Rewrite the Stars (bxb)

Chapter 2 Jet Lag

I try to follow what Orion told me to do, actually sleep tonight, but I can't. Even before all the "time change" stuff, getting to sleep has always been hard for me. My mind doesn't know when to shut the hell up, and it's like that tonight. I pretend to be asleep when someone knocks quietly on the door. It squeaks open.

"Blythe?" someone whispers.

I lay still and even out my breaths. I don't want to talk to anyone right now.

The door squeaks closed, and the person comes into the room. My back is to him, and I hear him move about near Peter's bed, so I'm assuming it's Peter. I haven't officially met him yet, and I know it's rude to pretend to sleep, but I'm so tired of people today. I need a break.

I hear him walk over to me, so I close my eyes again just in case, not realizing I opened them. He shuffles out of the room, closing the door with another squeak, and I open my eyes and sit up. He must be sleeping in Jax's room again. I wonder what that's about, but at the same time I feel bad for making him leave his room. This is his space, not mine. I should be the one leaving.

Now that I'm alone, I turn on the lamp and go over to the door. I pull the desk chair with me and push it up against the door handle. It's not a lock, but it'll do. I breathe easier when it's there. I know it's weird, but I was constantly concerned about someone entering my room back at home. I know this isn't actually my room, but the feeling stands. I need the certainty of no one coming in while I'm sleeping.

There's another ping of guilt from kicking Peter out of his room, but I stomp that feeling down quickly. I don't want to feel right now.

I climb back in the bed and turn on my music. I close my eyes and finally breathe without the weight on my chest. I focus on the music, letting it flow through me, but my mind has other plans. It thinks back to before everything happened.

I love my room at home. The walls are cluttered with artwork, quotes from my favourite songs, and other random crap. Not one spot on my walls is uncovered. I think that's why I like this room so much. Peter must be like me because his walls are decorated with pictures and quotes and streamers and movie tickets. The only thing different is that Peter's room is actually clean.

My room is a crazy mess, but I still know where everything is. I know where to put things where mom wouldn't find them when she searches my room "without me knowing," and I know where to hide my candy stash. My room is mine, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

But then the drama happened, and mom and I left. I haven't been home in months.

I miss it, but I got over my homesickness months ago.

No matter what everyone else thinks, I don't blame Colton for what happened. I blame the adults in charge for what happened. They acted like idiots, and I am the one who has to live in the aftermath.

Though, great aunt Grace dying was not part of that.

I just want to go back home.

That familiar pain sits in my chest, and it knocks me out of my thoughts. I turn my music up higher, but when it still doesn't work, I get out of bed. With the lamp still on, I go over and sit at the desk on my side of the room with Peter's chair pulled over. I'm hoping he won't mind. I'll put it back before he knows.

When I pulled the chair over, I also grabbed some string I found sitting on the floor next to the desk. I sit in the chair and tie the ends of the string together into one big loop. Then I bend the string around my fingers until it looks like a ladder.

I do it again and again until my fingers cramp.

I remember my friend back in elementary school taught me how to do Jacob's ladder, and I used to do it whenever I needed to fidget. I even used to carry string around in my pocket with me wherever I went just in case. But that was before I got an ipod with music.