*Brooke P.O.V*
If there was an audition for the world's most predictable white girl, right now, I would get the part without a second thought. Because here I am snuggled under pink pillows, eating mint ice cream, and listening to 'He Is We'. It wasn't that I wanted to be doing this, but the shock of what had happened an hour ago finally has caught up to me. My phone rings, making me jump and fall off the bed with a thud. Great.
"Hello?" I mumble leaning against the bed side.
"Hey, girl, it's Kaylee. Are you home?" She asks.
"Um...yes. Sorry about taking your car I ju-"
"No worries. Are you in your room?" What was she getting at here?
"Yes.." I reply cautiously.
"Good." And then she hangs up.
Not exactly what I was expecting from my best friend at this point. I just hoped she was getting a ride over here. I really needed her right now. She always helped me find better ways than crying to cope with my feelings. Like playing darts with a portrait of the person who upset me. It works wonders in the anger department if you were curious. A soft thud outside made me twitch slightly.
Oh joy. That was probably my parents. I didn't want to have to talk to anyone at this hour, let alone my own family. But after a few minutes when no one came to my room I take a new approach. I'm going insane. I am hearing things and freaking out. My emotions are all over the place and I need to be locked in the crazy house ASAP.
So in attempt to make myself feel better about my sanity, I change into my pink penguin pajamas and brush my teeth. Maybe if I pretend like I am a normal girl going to bed after a party...I will be one. Ha, just kidding. My whole life has been screwed over...again. I then consider begging my parents to let us move far away. Where there's no Anglers, no creepy neighbor boys, and definitely no Ryland.
*Ryland P.O.V*
"Just breathe, honey, breath." Kaylee rolls her eyes at my "not so crazy" panic attack. I honestly don't even know why I try to be cool anymore. I've freaked out so many times over absolutely nothing, and I still call myself a man. I'm pathetic.
"I am breathing, Kaylee!" I shout in frustration. "If I weren't, then I'd be dead!" I grip my hair, resisting the urge to rip it out.
Easton and Louis just sit quietly in the back, watching me and Kaylee argue. We're all currently parked about a block away from Brooke's house, and the pressure is finally sinking in.
"Dude." Easton pats my back encouragingly. "You'll be fine. You always are."
"He's got a point about that." Louis points at Easton with a nod and they do some weird looking high-five. Ever since we've started this "get Brooke back" plan, they've become best buddies and whatnot. I'm surprised they don't have sleepovers and paint each others nails.
"I know. I know." The words that I've rehearsed over and over again repeatedly play through my mind.
"You look constipated."
"You're not helping, Kaylee!" I bang my head on the steering wheel, knowing that in the morning there will be a huge purple bruise on my forehead. I don't care though. I probably deserve it.
We all take a few seconds of silence to get my bearings together. Kaylee takes initiative and gives Brooke a quick call. Meanwhile, I try to take deep breaths to will away the sudden feelings of nausea.
"Royal," Kaylee states in a soft, yet fierce tone after she finishes her talk with Brooke. "...you know what you have to do." The best buddies behind us nods along as I try to bring myself to step out of the car. One foot after another, I'm finally standing on solid ground.
"Yeah, yeah, I do." I mutter, trying to steady my footing. "...right after I puke." ...and I proceed to do so in the bushes behind me.
*Brooke P.O.V*
A strange noise outside my window once again makes me stand to my feet. I freeze for a few moments listening intently. Voices. It makes my heart fall a little. It was probably just creepy Max and his friends thinking they're hipster for hanging out in his garage until three in the morning.
I'll admit I was totally hoping for some action. But in the suburbs anything more that a lost dog is handled as if the white house had been taken by storm. So I guess it was a relief is the sense I didn't have to deal with our prudent neighbors.
I settle back down on my bed only to be disturbed once again by a sharp clang. Someone was throwing something at my window.
YOU ARE READING
The Bryland Tragedy
Teen FictionShe's the girl who works for what she wants. She makes the grades, works extra shifts, and stands up for what she believes in. He's the guy who's got it all figured out. He's got money, the friends, and the girls hanging off his arms. What happens i...
