The Girl With The Blue Hoodie

Chapter 12

© Copyright 2012 by C.A.B.

Blitz's house was filled with its usual aroma of Asian fried rice and flowers. I inhaled it as discreetly as I could as Blitz shut the door behind her with a conciliating "slam". I took in my surroundings still not over the liveliness and color her home had to offer. Sigh. I wish my house was this beautiful. I don't exactly consider gray and white to be "enlightening" or "full of color".

"Hi, girls," Blitz's mom welcomed, cheerfully, her long, toned legs sprawled limpy and ungracefully on their couch. Mrs. Moriarty stuffed a hand into a half-empty bag of Doritos and gorged a couple of chips into her already-dropped jaw. Blitz nodded at her, and I lifted my hand up into a sort-of wave.

In a sort-of daze, I dropped my belongings into the same corner I put them in last week, only taking my binder, pencil, and cellphone, and began marching up the stairs into Blitz's bedroom. I could hear her footsteps parading quite closely behind mine. Thump, thump, thump, thump.

 The two of us finally reached the top step of Blitz's staircase and began our walk to her room. Approaching it, her hand slowly reached out to seize the golden-colored doorknob. Finally, her hand clutched it and turned; unveiling her majestic bedroom plastered with its posters dancing jovially on her walls and her furniture arranged in a pleasing manner. I inhaled a deep breath of the sweet-smelling oxygen and sunk into one of her beanbag chairs. Blitz flicked the light on and closed the door.

"I'm glad you're making yourself welcome already," she teased, sitting down on the other beanbag chair in a criss-cross apple-sauce manner. After taking out her binder and pencil, she folded her hands neatly on her lap and watched me take out my phone and other necessities. I smiled softly at her remark and clicked my phone on. I had one new message from Dad.

Hi Violet I hope ur at Bliss's house safely

Um. Did he just call her Bliss? Laughter sealed itself into my throat; begging to pour out of my mouth and bounce off the walls of the room. First Blast...now Bliss? Ohh-kay. I responded with a quick "Yes" and slid the Blackberry back into my pocket; setting my binder into my lap; my pencil hanging-ten on top of my ear. Sigh. I shuffled my feet awkwardly and stared at the ceiling. "Let's take a break first," I heard myself say.

I think I saw Blitz nod. "Okay, sure." After her answer, I allowed my pupils to whir back down to my binder. Blitz and I have made astonishing progress on our project. We were almost through with the research which meant almost ready for the essay part (I could always do that at home, hehe). Finally, we would need to brainstorm some creative, yet easy and I-can-buy-the-shit-I-need-from-ghettofab-Wal-Mart. I didn't think we'd get this little time-consumer finished THAT rapidly. Luckily, this meant more time for other schoolwork, friends, Kellin (mental swoon), and of course, the most important factor out of the four: sleep.

Sleep had always been a major problem for me in high school. It wasn't just the fact that I had to rise-and-shine earlier than middle school and elementary school, but it was also the big mamma-jamma fact that I was everyday and always piled with a truckload of homework

every

single

fucking

day.

Yes, it was quite terrible...maybe even frightening was a better word to categorize my doom. I mean, ohhh, it's just a bunch of scrawny sheets of paper with ink and words splattered on 'em. Boo-hoo, big deal, ya whore.

That's where you're wrong.

I, Violet Ferguson was the World's Biggest Sleep Imsoniac.

Dun, dun, dun, duuun.