Ursa Minor (On hiatus)

Better than normal

a/n: I'll try to update more often, so we can get the final third of this story on the road as soon as possible. Follow me if you want to to stay updated! Dedicated to Ally_the_SecretNinja for following and leaving funny and sweet comments! Your question about the title will be answered in the next-next chapter! :)

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I heard the stomping feet marching into my room still half-asleep. My mom had obviously decided it was time. Time for me to go to school. She pulled up the blinds with a swish. "Come on Mischa, you're going to school!" 

"I'm not well enough," I whined. Coughing for effect before throwing the pillow over my head. Just to have it snatched away and dashed against my face. Argh. 

"Get up!" She ordered. " Or I drag you there by your hair!" 

"Yeah, whatever. Just five minutes," I muttered, pulling the cover over my face instead. 

My mom bent down, tugged lightly at what strands of my hair there were poking out. "Two. Come on."

It was better to deal with like a band aid. Just ripping it off, not asking when or why. Two minutes later I jumped out of bed and jumped into the shower and jumped back into my room. Ending up standing in front of my closet all shivering and dripping wet, muttering 'fuck fuck fuck' to myself. Couldn't find anything to wear. Well clean underwear I'd managed to pull on but that was about it. And I glimpsed the scar on my arm from time to time as I raked trough my closet's contents. But whatever. I'd decided to try and get used to it. Stop trying to ignore it or cover it up for myself. Just take it for what it was. A fading scar on my skin. Instead of the glowing warning sign I usually pictured it as. Saying something like 'warning, useless loser unable to cope with life ahead'. After all I might live another 50 years or so. Was kind of long time to sit fully clothed on beaches. Maybe now I could make a fresh start. Maybe in a couple of years I'd laugh about it. Turn it into one of those young and stupid stories you tell people when you're at a bar in college or whatever. Yeah I was so drunk I cut my face open on a lamp post. Yeah, I was feeling so low I cut my arm open. Then we'd laugh at our own youthful stupidity and high-five each-other and compare scars.

I fleetingly thought of the last person who'd seen it. Properly. Trisha. Me and her making out on her bed when she'd started tracing her tiny fingers along my arm. I'd removed her hand, but she insisted, breaking off kissing to look at it. Following the white ridge leading up to my wrist. Me in turn following her finger with my gaze. Silence. Until I looked up into her shiny hazel eyes.  

"Oh, Mattie, she sighed. I shrugged, feeling my face scrunch up in a 'I feel like I'm gonna cry, but I'm not gonna fucking cry' face. Pulled my arm from her questioning hands, pulled her close instead. This warm and lovely and lemon-and-ginger smelling human being, with dimples in her elbows and soft kissable cheeks.  

"I really, really like you," I mumbled into her ear. Suddenly knowing that was it. This girl I adored with all my heart and still it wasn't enough. I knew it, and she knew it too. A week later we were no longer an item.

I sighed at the memory. One of the shittier weeks of my life. And where the fuck was all my clothes? Annoying. Maybe Julie had hid them because I'd taken up her computer time or something. Or maybe it was me not carrying any laundry downstairs for the last week. Or weeks. I glanced at the pile on the closet floor before continuing to haul out the contents crumpled up against the back wall of the shelves. Finally I found a pair of old jeans underneath some old sweat pants. But I was not as lucky in the sweater department. The most acceptable I found was a gray t-shirt I'd used to sleep in, but hey, it was clean. And a zip-up hoodie Trish had gifted to me my last birthday that I'd never worn. Dark green with a checkered lining and bright white drawstrings. Not really my preferred style. Well beggars can't be choosers. It would have to do. I quickly pulled on my mismatched findings and made a beeline for the bathroom.