"What?" I croaked into the phone.
It was the fifth time Tyler had called me that morning, and it was only 9 AM.
"I've been trying to get a hold of you," he said, nonchalantly. As if it was perfectly normal for him to continuously call me.
"What do you want?"
"We're going paintballing. Meet us there at 10."
"I'm not going."
"It's not an option, it's me telling you."
I hung up and turned my phone on silent, rolling over in my bed. I pulled a pillow over my head and let out a frustrated groan.
I'd been up and down all night, finally falling into a wakeless nightmare about my mom. Her cold, listless body. Her empty eyes. Everything that haunted me all put into one horrifying nightmare.
I pushed myself out of bed, accepting the fact that being awake was better than another nightmare. I grabbed my phone and headed downstairs. Already two missed calls from Tyler.
I pulled the anti-depressants out of the cabinet. "Not necessary but strongly recommended," the doctor had said. They were all watching me, waiting for me to crack.
I popped one in my mouth and washed it down with some pink lemonade. I left the pill bottle on the counter and stumbled into the living room.
The side effects are why the doctor took me off of taking them regularly. They made me so sick that I could barely function. But for today, I'd take it.
The nausea always came first. Then the puking. After that came the migraines and the dizziness.
I turned on the TV, expecting ESPN to still be on from last night. But I was greeted by Fox News and their Mother's Day Special. Otherwise known as the only evidence my father had left behind. He was good at making himself scarce, so I didn't even know he'd been home, but he always slipped up somewhere. And this time it was Fox News.
I switched the station to ESPN almost immediately, just the thought of Mother's Day making me sick to my stomach.
The sick feeling combined with the anti-depressants had me running to the bathroom just fifteen short minutes later, puking up everything I'd ever eaten.
I gripped the sides of the toilet bowl, so sick I didn't want to move. I slid down to the floor, pressing my cheek to the cool tile floor. I laid there for a few minutes, preserving the tranquil feeling before pushing myself off the floor. I splashed some water on my face, looking at myself for the first time that morning.
My face was pale, almost white. And I had deep, black circles under my eyes from my lack of sleep. My hair was a mess. It looked like I'd had a night of wild animal sex.
I dried my face off with a towel and headed back out to the living room, knowing that the migraine and dizziness followed shortly.
I stopped short as I exited the bathroom. Tyler, Nathan, Caleb, and DeAndre were all in my living room.
Nathan was hanging upside down off the couch, eating a bowl of popcorn. The rest of them were spread out across the room, talking amongst each other and watching ESPN.
"Popcorn?" Nathan asked, extending the bowl towards me.
"Nice pajamas," Caleb said, raising his eyebrows at me.
I took a moment to look down. I was in my Ninja Turtle pajama pants.
"What are you guys doing here?" I croaked.
YOU ARE READING
Monroe Academy for the ArtsTeen Fiction
Completed. Thousands of students apply, and only 75 get in per year. This prestigious academy is seemingly perfect on the outside, it's every student's dream. But the students struggle to keep up the facade. Each student holds a secret, something de...