Three in the Morning (very slow updates)

three

We nod. My dad gives Georgia her school dinner money and she takes it with trembling fingers. 

“What’s there to be scared of, Georgie? I’m your old dad! I don’t bite, you know,” my dad says ironically, chuckling to himself. He means it as a joke but when he isn’t looking, I try to give him a death glare. Of course he bites, and that is something to be scared of. 

In the next few minutes before I need to run for the bus, I try and get as much shut-eye as I can so I don’t drop dead in the school hallways. And okay, it’s only around ten minutes, but at least it’s some form of eye-rest. I’m used to lack of sleep, since I always stay up late on my phone, but I hardly ever go for all-nighters. 

“Casey! Get up, otherwise you’ll miss the bus! You need to get more sleep, dear,” my mother says firmly, tapping me on the shoulder. I yawn and force my eyes open. After grabbing my backpack, I open the front door and I’m greeted with a blast of icy air. Shivering, I reach back inside my home, grabbing a scarf. 

“I’m going now, bye!” I shout to my family as I start closing the door.

“Bye Casey!” Georgia yells from the kitchen. 

“Bye Georgia, love you!”

“Love you too!” 

Then my dad unexpectedly calls from upstairs, “Have a nice day, darling!" 

I cringe at ‘darling’, and mutter, “You too,” under my breath, not meaning it at all. I slam the door shut and dawdle to the end of my road, until I realise my bus is just about to drive away and by the end of my sprint, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had broken the world record for fastest run for a bus. I slam my bus pass down onto the machine as the driver stares at me, obviously disgusted by the rate of perspiration on my face, and after I hear the beep of authentication, I collapse onto a seat.

I let out a deep sigh. I’m just so, so, tired, and not just physically, but mentally. Somehow, school is more appealing than being with my family today. 

***

“Casey! Daniel! Be quiet and stop talking while I’m talking! It’s very rude. Everyone! Stop this ridiculous giggling. I don’t know what you all find so funny.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Warrick,” I mumble, clasping my hand over my mouth to try and stop myself from collapsing into fits of laughter. Out of the corner of my eye I see Dan doing the same. I stare down at my workbook, not daring to look up again in case I catch another glimpse of my English teacher’s horrible new rainbow glasses.

“Casey,” Dan whispers.

“Stop with the puns,” I murmur, smiling.

“I think she’s making a bit of a, spectacle, of herself,” Dan says in a low voice, a serious expression on his face.

I grin, trying not to burst out laughing halfway through Mrs. Warrick reading a poem. “That’s not even funny.” 

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m smiling because it’s funny how bad your puns are.”

Dan doesn’t reply, but instead reaches into his bag and takes out a piece of lined paper. He scrawls something onto it, arm hiding the words from me. He glances quickly at Mrs. Warrick, sees her engrossed in the poem and then turns back to me. 

“Yeah, I’ll admit it. My puns are tearable.” Dan holds up the piece of paper and on it says “My Puns”, and then he tears the paper up.

“Please stop, I’m going to cry of laughter in a minute, I’m not even kidding,” I say quietly, my eyes watering from trying not to make any noise.