Dedicated to the awesome Tamaradw for her support, she's helped me so much and her story 'Skipping Time' is great, go have a look!

Two more weeks of school actually seem impossible to endure. I honestly don't know how much more homework, infuriating teachers and Levi I can handle.

There are, however, some upsides to what looks like a bleak month ahead. And that is the awesome, legend of a man, Granddad Parkes. The fact he's visiting was the first thing to cheer me up on the cold Saturday morning I woke up to. It's currently eight a.m. and I have the task of getting the spare room ready for Granddad.

The spare room in our house sees little use, most of our family live pretty far, too far to see them outside of times like Christmas. The bedroom's curtains are drawn and as soon as I pull them open a sigh full of wonder leaves my mouth.

Outside the sky is streaked with pink and strewn with orange clouds from the rising sun with bits of white-yellow light filtering through the clouds and down out below. It looks like a picture cut out from a holiday magazine, I've almost forgotten how pretty winter sunrises can be. Temporarily abandoning tidying the spare room, I rush off to my room to my desk, in the drawer of which is my camera. It's easily the most favourite of all my possessions.

Heading back to the spare room, I open the largest window- it's one that swings out vertically so I have plenty space of take a picture without any glass in the way. The cold winter air hits my face and my breath comes out as foggy air as I angle the camera and then decide the composition for the picture before taking a few snaps.

As soon as I have something I'm happy with I immediately shut the window, turning the handle quickly against the biting cold air.

Mum comes bustling in, holding a pile of bed sheets and pillow cases before dumping it on the bed. She's muttering something incoherent under her breath and I have to grin when I notice how strongly she smells of laundry detergent.

Out of all the people in my family, which there isn't a lot of considering it's just Dad, Mum, Evie and I, I probably look the most like her.

Mum's hair once matched mine but some time ago she'd had it dyed and decided she liked it better blonde. Then there are the famous 'Newell eyes' both Evie and I have. They're a bright sort of blue that runs through all the women in Mum's family.

A look of excitement comes over her eyes when she sees the camera in my hands; she's the one who's spurred my interest in photography. Mum's made loads of attempts to try and push it further and maybe get me to try and make pieces of art from my pictures but taking photos is where my talent ends.

"Let's have a look," she says, coming over and peering over my shoulder. I change the mode to display the pictures and she gives a noise of admiration.

"Gorgeous," she says as she nods, looking at me seriously. "You really should do something with these."

I snort, shaking my head, putting the camera back into its case and leaving it to rest on the window-sill. "It's just a hobby."

"Yeah, I know. You're all science-y." Mum rolls her eyes. "But look at those!"

"I dunno, I'll look for a competition or something," I say in an attempt to ward her off. I think she's slightly disappointed neither Evie and I have shown an interest in art, well Evie is only five but she's been showing more interest in playing with Lego than crayons. Mum, however, is an art teacher at a local college but sadly none of her artistic talents have rubbed off on her daughters.

I spend the rest of the morning tidying the room and getting it ready before having a shower. The smell of Dad cooking lunch fills the house and my stomach starts rumbling. The smell of whatever the hell he's cooking lures me downstairs; I practically jog down the stairs.

Lounging into the kitchen I see him at the kitchen counter, singing along to some Led Zeppelin song as he kneads dough. His blonde hair's streaked with flour and what I think is gravy smears his cheek. Dad's always had a bit of a hands-on approach to cooking.

"Want a taste?" he asks, nodding his head towards a pot simmering on the hob. "I'm nearly done making the beef and vegetable casserole, onto making the cake now." I head over to the cooker and take a spoon from the side before tasting the casserole. My taste buds do the Macarena.

"That tastes brilliant." I grin at him before flinging the spoon into the sink. Grabbing some plates to lay the table, I absent-mindedly begin thinking of how Dad had a really weird set of skills, he can cook like a chef but his job involves working at some bank. Numbers and cooking don't really seem like a likely pair.

As I'm setting out the plates my mobile starts ringing and I see that Oliver's calling.

"Help me!" he yells into the phone once I answer. Flinching, I move the phone out the way of my ear a little.

"What's wrong?" I ask right away, concerned.

"Shagging!" he announces back. I sigh, my shoulders slump as I roll my eyes.

"We've already talked about to much information!" I say, "Please, don't say anything else!"

"It's not actually happening! But she wants it to and for once I'm not up for it," Oliver responds and I can hear actual pain in his voice. Oh my god. This sort of thing really isn't my forte. Oliver isn't even sure himself what Rebecca thinks, all he knows is that she's forced him to go to the Winter Dance with her.

"Mate, just tell her to eff off," I say, fiddling with a silver fork.

"Do you want to find my body in a canal?!" he cries.

"I'm being honest Oliver, this isn't right. She's pressuring you into something you don't want."

"Can you imagine how awkward that'll make work?"

"Get some new work?

"I like getting free pens," he grumbles. I roll my eyes but I can't grinning.

"Oliver, it's free pens or complete boredom. You choose."

"But I also need someone to take to that ruddy dance thing," Oliver groans. I'm about to reply with some more crap advice when the doorbell rings.

"I've got to go, he's here!" I cry into the phone, "Text me later!" I quickly hang-up. I feel bad for being so short with him but hopefully Imogen will be more help. The sound of Mum coming down the stairs to open the door carries into the kitchen.

Walking out into the hall I pause when I hear the sound of squealing from the front door. It's high-pitched and afflicted with giggles while a deep, rumbling noise of a man mimicking aeroplane noises accompanies it. I grin and carry on walking till I'm there.

Granddad turns around and as soon as he sees me a brilliant grin fills and brightens his face. "Ruby!" He sets Evie carefully down on the porch floor before striding over to give me a hug.

I smile into his familiar smelling maroon jumper before feeling the sensation of all my air leaving my lungs as Granddad thuds my back as he hugs me. Once I regain my breath when he pulls away, I look up at him, relief coursing through me to know he's finally here.

Relief may be an odd emotion to feel but it's the first that surges through me, properly so when I look up into Granddad's beaming, old face full of its lines and happiness and just the faintest tinge of sadness.

"Is that your Dad's casserole I can smell?" he asks, rubbing a hand over his slightly protruding stomach.

"Yeah," I say, nodding, "It tastes great, if you're worried."

"Why would I be? I've been tasting that thing ever since he was fifteen and making it nearly every bloody day." Granddad gives a chuckle as he shakes his head. "He made it for your Mum you know, three weeks' worth practice for the same food just for one date."

Dad pokes his head out the kitchen doorway, grinning as he sees Granddad. "Dad!"

He wipes his hands on his apron before striding quickly down the hall and giving his dad a massive hug. It won't usually have been so long and quite so full-on but that's the way hugs are now, after everything that's happened. Real and comforting.

"Well practice did make perfect," we all hear a voice say behind us. The three of us turn to see Mum, her hair looks a lot less dishevelled and her clothes are detergent free. She's been so quiet I've forgotten she's standing there. Granddad laughs as Dad pulls away.

It's honestly weird, watching and experiencing our family being so touchy-feely, usually we aren't quite so emotional but right now, every moment counts.

Once we're in the dining room and Dad and Mum retreat to the kitchen, Granddad hauls a bag onto the table. He zips it open before pulling out a rather ugly looking plant; it's a bulbous, lurid green thing with shrivelled, small scrambled-egg yellow plants growing from it.

"I've got this plant thing," Granddad says, setting it on the table, "Madge sent it to me,"

"What, Aunt Madge?" I ask, thinking of my middle-aged, eccentric relative. She's Granddad's sister and to be honest, a bit loony but still brilliant.

"Yes," Granddad says before pulling a face. "It's hideous, isn't it?"

"No." I attempt to hide my grin but laugh when I see Evie's face. Her little face is lit up in awe.

"Wow!" she exclaims, leaning in and grinning widely, showing off her gappy little teeth. Her chubby hands stretch out to stroke the plant and she laughs in delight. "It's all spotty!"

"You can keep it," Granddad tells her as he sits himself at the table.

The next hour goes by in a busy blur of chattering, cooking and laying the table with the food.

Dad's really outdone himself, his meals have left me increasingly excited for the Christmas dinner we'd be having. Just thinking of his turkey's making my mouth dribble.

"Ruby, you look like you've been drugged," Mum comments from the other side of the table as she sits watching me, finishing off the last of her cake.

Granddad leans back in his chair; patting his belly as he appreciatively raises his glass of juice. "Everything was delicious. You better watch out, though, old Sylvie will be complaining about you being in the kitchen again Dan."

We all laugh. Great Aunt Sylvia is one of the oldest members of our family- one of the most backward and rude ones. Whenever she comes over she often warns Mum that she should watch out for any signs of doubt in Dad's sexuality when she catches him in the kitchen. Mum just responds with the fact she can only manage to heat a can of baked beans up.

"So what was all this about someone reading Ruby's counselling file?" Granddad asks, sipping his juice and looking at all of us interestedly. Mum immediately tuts while Dad pulls a face.

"It was ridiculous!" Mum declares at once, waving her glass of wine about. I stare at the tablecloth, really not bothered for another one of these rants.

For the past few weeks Mum hasn't been able to get over the whole file mix-up incident, as soon as she was told about it she'd had an hour long tirade about it on the phone to Mr Hibbert before asking me a million times if I wanted to transfer my sessions somewhere more 'professional'.

Somehow that managed to sound like I needed more serious help and I'd instantly refused. Anyway, I can't be bothered. As idiotic as Mr Hibbert can be, I've known the guy for years and he's the one member of the staff I prefer to tell stuff to, even with the recent mishap and his bumbling nature. The meetings that have passed since the incident have been a little awkward but now I know he's taking extra care to keep everything safe and filed away properly.

"What boy found out though?" Granddad asks, looking confusedly between Mum and me.

Mum gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh just some boy in Ruby's year, I think he went to her primary school, Levi something."

I nod along, shovelling the cake in my mouth a lot more quickly than I usually would've done. Ever since that day at the cafe with Imogen, I've realised food is a brilliant excuse not to talk.

"So what, your files were jumbled? And they didn't do anything?" Granddad looks increasingly concerned and glances over at me. His look of worry vanishes when he sees how uncomfortable I look. Mum's also been constantly hounding me over how calm I've been about everything, asking me why I wasn't freaking out more.

I can't exactly explain to her that I'm sure Levi won't blab because I've snogged him as a precaution. No, that probably won't go down too well. Instead I've just been trying to act all flippant about it.

"I'm over it," I suddenly say, my voice a little too loud. They all look at me and there's an awkward pause. I know Mum wants to start asking why I am but she doesn't.

"What is beef made of? Is it chicken?" Evie suddenly asks, studying a piece of meat that was left over on her plate. Everyone starts grinning before launching a new conversation revolving around her question. I sigh a little in relief, thanking god I have a little sister who could ask questions that were difficult to answer right away.

A stupid thought's been circling my thoughts recently, one that I try and extinguish whenever it pops up.

Now, a few weeks later I kind of, maybe don't mind as much about the file mix-up. Of course I'm still pissed Levi knows stuff about me I don't want him to and his sudden presence in my life has been undeniably infuriating... but at the same time it's been fun, which I'm really reluctant to admit.

My phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out my stupid thoughts.

Pulling it out, I open the text. I immediately let out a snort of laughter when I read its contents: 'The free pens lost the fight. I just quit work.'

It looks like Rebecca's going to the Christmas Dance alone.