paranoia [slow-ish updates]

6 days

I reached out and hit my alarm before it could even finish its first obnoxiously loud beep. Sitting up in bed, I dug my knuckles into my closed eyelids and sighed. Another sleepless night. And guess what? The thought still hadn't buggered off. Rather, it was even more potent, the itching feeling making me want to grind my teeth in frustration.

I abruptly threw my duvet off, wiggling my toes in the sudden cold draft. Getting dressed, I suddenly remembered I needed to complete the history project that was due in three days (and which, admittedly, I hadn't even started yet) and sighed for a second time. As if I hadn't got enough on my plate already. I resolved to at least start on it today, otherwise I would have to endure more nagging from my parents. Not to mention constant repetition of the phrase, 'why can't you be more like your brother, Kerrie?'. But my parents never seem to realise that I'm not the same studious, popular student Miles is. Damn him and his perfect grades.

*

The fingers of my left hand tapped on the surface of my desk for lack of anything else to do. I lifted my chin off my right palm and forced myself to look at the blank Word document I'd had open for at least an hour. A third sigh escaped my lips. Why can't I concentrate?

Of course, I knew why. It was this goddamn notion of mine that was preventing me from doing anything. However willing I was, it refused to stop occupying my mind, to stop prodding me, asking for my attention. I couldn't even summon enough mental capacity to keep it at the back of my mind, where it was merely a dull musing.

Pushing my chair away from my laptop, I stood up and closed the lid.

Screw it, I thought, throwing on my jacket and deciding to head out into town, hoping, once again, that the cold air would clear my head a little.

Shouting a message to my mother, I slipped through the front door and the earphones went in again. At least with music blasting I could forget about things for a while.

*

Remember when I said that I was thankful to be avoiding awkward eye contact with Gem for a whole two days? Yeah, that was short lived.

I'd just walked out of a stationary shop with a hefty box of art supplies after finding out that I was, again, broke. This actually occurred almost every December, seeing as I would spend most of my allowance on clothes and music instead of saving up. Luckily, according to my art and D.T. teachers, I was very imaginative and possessed a creative flair, so at least there was reason behind my choice. Anyway, my parents always seemed to appreciate a pair of knitted socks or a painting of a landscape. Plus, I didn't always resort to making gifts- sometimes I scraped together my savings to buy my father an old comedy film, or my friends a poster of their favourite celebrity.

Anyway, as I was saying, I'd just walked out of the shop with this cumbersome cardboard box (I'd already had trouble carrying it out of the ridiculously small doorway, so you can probably understand why my arms were so tired) and I was on my way back to the main supermarket's car park, as Miles had agreed (grudgingly) to give me a lift back home.

I'd just turned the corner (after bumping into every person on the street because I could never seem to get out of their way in time and ended up bruising their fleece-covered arms with the corners of the box) when I fully collided with someone (I didn't see who because the top of the box was obscuring my vision- I am incredibly short, if you really want to know) and ended up flat on my back on the icy pavement. Winded, I looked to my left and saw the box was overturned, coloured yarn and scrap fabric spilling out onto the street.

Scrambling to my feet, I looked up and opened my mouth to apologise. The victim of my clumsiness was about to do the same thing, but when they caught sight of me, I saw their eyes narrow in anger.

It was then that I realised that, standing opposite me on the street, swathed in about three scarves and utterly fuming, was Gem.

"Kerrie," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Uhm..." Feeling my cheeks colour slightly, I looked down and scuffed my wellie against the pavement.

"Wanna tell me what the hell your little escape was all about on Friday?" she cocked her head to one side, emphasising 'hell' a little louder than the rest of her sentence.

"I...I'm sorry?" I shrugged my shoulders slightly, not really sure what kind of excuse to give to get me out of this.

Big mistake.

"Sorry?!" she exploded, making a few passers-by turn their heads towards us. "Do you have any idea how much that audition meant to me? Do you know how nervous I was? I was freaking quaking in my shoes, Kerrie! I was counting on you to reassure me so I wouldn't mess up! That's what friends do, isn't it?"

"I...I just-"

"You know, I get the feeling that you didn't even care about my audition in the first place! Well-" she turned her head away "-you know what? I was just fine on my own!"

"Hey, I said I was sorry, Jennifer Lawrence," I snapped, feeling my anger bubbling up. Didn't she understand that I was having problems of my own, too? Hadn't it ever crossed her mind that I didn't want to leave her audition? "It's not my fault you need me as your rock to prevent you from screwing up on stage."

"Wha-? How dare-! The nerve of-!" Gem spluttered, before making an exasperated noise, turning on her heel and stomping off down the street (I had to give her credit for not falling over; the cobbles were icy as hell).

As soon as she did this I felt my anger evaporate. What I'd said was uncalled for. I knew that audition had meant a lot to her, and I hadn't even given her a proper explanation as to why I'd bolted. Why shouldn't I just tell her the truth? I mean, a problem shared is a problem halved, right? She probably wouldn't believe me, but it was worth a shot.

I tore off after her down the street (less gracefully, as you might've guessed) my legs sliding at absurd angles underneath me.

"Gem, wait!" I yelled, hoping she'd turn around.

I did this several times before she did, shouting, "What, Kerrie?" at me in a voice that made me cringe.

Coming face-to-face with her, I took a deep breath. It's now or never.

"Look, this probably isn't going to make a lick of sense to you, but, believe me when I tell you, I did not want to leave that auditorium."

Gem scoffed and crossed her arms over her coat. "Oh, really? And what, am I supposed to assume you were possessed by some unholy being that made you decide my acting was terrible and to get out of there before your eyes started bleeding?"

"No! Um, not exactly. You see, I'd kind of had this, um, notion. It was out of nowhere, and, at first I thought it had been about your audition, but, then when I tried to banish this thought, it wouldn't go away, and I didn't know why. It just got to the point where I thought that if I got out of there, the thought would stop, but it didn't and..." I looked up and my words trailed off when I saw the retreating figure of Gem.

Emitting my fourth sigh that day, I remembered that my art supplies were still lying in the middle of the street, and went back to pick them up, only to find that the box was gone.

*

"Jesus, you were a while," Miles commented as I slid into the passenger seat of his car.

"Oh, shut up."

"Where are your art supplies?"

"I ran into Gem and all hell broke loose, for lack of a better explanation."

"But I thought you and Gem were, like, best friends?"

"It's a long story. Just drive. I want to get home before the 'rents start asking questions."

"You're bossy. Anyway, I'm glad I'm not going to get an ugly pair of socks for Christmas now." That irritating grin that I knew so well spreading across his face, he put the car into reverse and put his foot down on the accelerator.

"You love those socks."