Propaganda

1.

I jerked awake from my sleep by my passive aggressive alarm, blaring in my ear. I, more aggressive, less passive, bring my groggy arm into the air, and letting gravity take its role, slamming my fist on the top of the alarm. It gave a small wail and ceased waiting for tomorrow. I take in a deep breath and roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling, taking in a deep breath and heard the soft cracking of my back. Pure satisfaction.

It was February and the sun still hasn't met the horizon. The room was pitch black, my eyes refusing to adjust to the blackness, so for all I know my ceiling could really be gone and I would just be sitting here staring into oblivion in a calm and collective manner listening to the sound of my cracking joints.

My theory is terminated when my dad walks into my room switching on the lights blinding me back to an artificial sleep. So much for oblivion. "Devan, are you up?" he asks. I continue to lay in the comfort of my bed and sheets in an attempt to post pone the coldness and blindness that will take over my body if and when I become uncovered. "Devan, come on son. You're seventeen now, you don't need me to drag you out of your bed."

I let out a groan of annoyance to express my feelings towards the topic of "getting up". I proceed to roll onto my stomach, dragging the sheet with me, then on my back again then onto the floor, allowing a few more cracks to escape my body. My dad just rolls his eyes and begins to walk out of my room. "I want you down in thirty-minutes, am I clear?" he said stopping in my doorway.

I nod my head and yawn the word "yes" before I hear my door shut. I roll out of my warm blanket cocoon, to face my prediction. It was cold. I walk to my dresser and pulled on some jeans, a t-shirt with a button down flannel, and my trusty converse. Good ole Chuck Taylors.

I'm is still cold.

Then, I head to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I'm a consistent fellow, who should not use the word fellow.

now, I know I'm being a bit narcissistic, but I am pretty handsome compared to others. Most guys at my school are coated in zits or are obnoxiously tan and muscular. I, on the other hand, was olive skinned, tall and skinny but toned. I had longish black hair that hung just around my eyes. Thank god, strait teeth. A strong jaw line and cheek bones. And grey-blue eyes. I am happy with all of it.

When I finish washing up I clomp down the stairs into the kitchen where my mom has lied down a breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage, and the pill. I begin to take a bite out of my eggs when I am interrupted by my mom. "Devan," she lets my name drag out. "Yes?" I drag out in a mocking manner. "Take your pill first then you can continue eating."

I roll my eyes and force down the pill with a glass of water before proceeding to gulf down my breakfast before I walk out the front door, starting my day with a slap in the face from the bitter cold.

I take a walk down my street to stop at the end of the road to wait for Ainsley. When she did arrive, she was in a button down coat, a hat, gloves, a scarf, knee high socks, and boots. It was a bit much, yet she just looked cold despite her attire.

She slipped her arms undermine and pressed up against me. "It's so cold." She mumbled into my shoulder. "Thanks Sherlock, I might have missed that occurrence." I said sarcastically. "You're welcome, John, you were never quite the best at picking up those kind of things." Ainsley said deepening her voice and slowing down her speech. I laughed at her manly attempt then wrapped my arm around her shoulder, "Shall we head off?" I asked, "We shall." She replied. And we headed towards our school.

Ainsley was a pretty girl. She had rich brown-gold eyes, and pale skin. She had long brown hair that she had died a dark red-brown color that fell mid back, and just so happened to be my favorite person.

I have known her since we were nine, when she moved here. Her family was close with ours too. It was funny to think we were friends now thinking back to when we first met and she absolutely revolted me. She wasn't afraid of bugs or spiders; she would just go and pick them up. Odd creature. She liked sports, well she liked to play them; she couldn't care less about watching them. But now, she was perfect. It was nice, we just slowly fell together. Neither of us asked each other out, we didn't ask either one out on dates, it just happened. We weren't really a couple. We did couple type stuff but realistically we were just close. Because best friend sounds childish. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

(A.N- please feel free to correct grammar mistakes. despite my grammar-Nazi ways, I write mostly at night; my "left side of my brain" tends to resist full function and I tend to write run-ons, fragments, or get off topic. leave your comments of what you think, I'd love to hear them :) )