| 7 |
❝ A dyslexic man walked into a bra. ❞
CHARLOTTE DID NOT want to go to school [otherwise known as Hell to most people].
She never did, but especially after last night. She was dead-tired and terribly cranky after wandering the paved roads and cracked sidewalks aimlessly, stumbling upon a Dunkin' Donuts and the loner-of-the-year (along with her), Teddy [Theodore] Higgins.
She was too tired to put up with school and the idiots who went there, and was also too scared to face Teddy again. Last night was so awkward between them, but not, in a strange, psychological, metaphorical, god-knows-what way that scared the crap out of her. It was so easy to talk to him, the words just flowing out of her, without having to think through every single word like she usually did.
The moment she woke up, she began trying everything on her mother.
Charlotte claimed to have horrible cramps, said that she felt nauseas and barfy, and that she had a sore throat and dizzy spells, yet her mom fell for none of it.
Charlie was not in the mood.
Her eyes held dark bags, her cheeks sagged slightly, her frown on her lips was flat and emotionless. Not bothering to brush her hair or anything, she just threw it up in a messy bun and dressed herself in Hogwarts sweatpants with a Beatles t-shirt and a hoodie that she recalled to be from Theodore Freaking Higgins.
She had slept in it, and she had never been more peaceful, falling asleep quicker than she thought was possible. The intoxicating scent was enough to lull her to bed, a clean, fresh smell, a mix of coffee from Dunkin' Donuts and the crisp scent of what she assumed was laundry detergent, something that smelled like vanilla. Goodness, she was like a creepy fangirl. Next she was going to be sniffing his hair, or asking what laundry detergent he used.
Once she had finished all of her early morning jobs, she grabbed a granola bar and headed out the door, off to school.
It was nearly sixth period.
She had already gotten her note on her chair in biology, and was headed to her locker to get her books for the next class. Her head was down, shoulders slouched, eyelids heavy and drooping by the minute. Charlotte yawned and twisted her combination, stopping in her tracks when she noticed Teddy was to her direct left.
Her heart spasmed, remembering the last night. She needed to talk to him.
Charlotte quickly turned her head to face Teddy, a big mistake. She hadn't realized her locker was close to her...and banged her head on the metal locker.
A sharp thud of pain flooded her forehead, her head throbbing. She held her hand up to her pounding head and mentally swore like a truck driver.
"Holy shit, Charlie, are you okay?"
Even with her eyes closed in pain, she could tell it was Teddy. She recognized his voice, for starters, and also, no one else in the school called her Charlie.
"Define 'okay'," she grunted out, opening her eyes painfully. Theodore stood before her with a concerned look on his face, his eyes on her forehead (that probably held a lump the size of Texas) and his hands in his pockets.
She felt her voice shrink to a slow stop, her memory flashing back to the fact that she was wearing his hoodie.
"Oh," she fumbled, putting her books on the ground and struggling to take off her sweatshirt. "Oh gosh, um."
YOU ARE READING
A Note A DayTeen Fiction
Anxiety-ridden, nightmare expert Charlotte 'Charlie' Jackson has been receiving witty, heartwarming, anonymous notes since the beginning of the school year. One afternoon, Charlie notices she did not find a note for the first time all year and sudd...