It All Started In A McDonald's...

talking to disembodied voices - first sign of madness

I woke the next morning with my cheek stuck to my pillowcase and the right side of my hair a total rat's nest. Groggy. It wasn't normally a word I could use to describe myself.

Ugh, there was that beeping sound again. My bed was so comfortable I was tempted to ignore it and bury my face in my pillow and drift off to sleep again. It wasn't like I had anything planned for today anyway.

It was only the incessant beeping and the gradual realisation that it was still dark that alerted me into the conclusion that maybe I did actually have something planned for today, but my brain was too tired to remember what it was. What did it matter anyway? I was sure it could wait for five minutes. Ten. Half an hour. When I could be arsed to get up.

Before I knew it, I was bolt upright and reaching over to turn off my alarm. It was Avengers Tower day! Shit, how the hell had I forgotten?

Before I knew it, I was brushing my teeth so furiously I was spitting out blood. I washed out my mouth and tried again, this time not rushing. What day was it? Wednesday, I think. Dad usually left earlier on Wednesdays, thankfully for me, because I was sure he'd probably be a little suspicious as to why I was up at six in the morning when school didn't start until nine. And I was lazy when it came to getting up.

I only realised after I'd had my shower that I should probably have eaten breakfast before brushing my teeth. Habit, I guessed, of not eating in the morning. I had a luxurious breakfast of two pieces of toast with way too much marmalade and a glass of orange juice and took a moment to calm down, combing my untamed hair in my fingers. Realising too late I had marmalade on my fingers. Dammit.

I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair. "OK, Jamie," I said to myself, because if I talked some sense into myself then maybe I'd have a half decent shot of making a good first impression on the Avengers. "Make a checklist. One, look presentable."

Step one proved hard by itself. My hair had gotten sticky from the marmalade and that in itself took five minutes to get out. It was times like these I blessed a non-existent higher power for deciding my hair would never grow, because if my hair was the same length as MJ's, I would've lost my patience so much I may have actually stolen some garden shears and took to giving myself a drastic haircut. This length I could just about manage.

Not only was I having an unfortunately timed bad hair day, but it was one of those occasions where I looked in my wardrobe and became aware that I had almost no clothes to wear. Four t-shirts (finally, my Black Sabbath one was out of the laundry!), one hoodie and two pairs of jeans. The t-shirt was easy to choose, but it was either the yellow hoodie or the disgusting coat that I absolutely despised. I selected my blue jeans, and reluctantly the hoodie. I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror so many times as though I would suddenly change.

"You, madam," I said to myself, "look like a cartoon character." My reflection didn't argue back. I couldn't get over how much I looked like my Subway Surfers avatar. In fact, I was almost tempted to ditch the hoodie and risk freezing to death in the sub-zero temperatures, but decided against it. This would help me make a memorable impression, at least.

"OK, two," I said, my reflection's lifeless eyes boring into me. "Check the time."

I did just that, noting it was quarter to seven. I needed to be the Avengers Tower by nine. How long would it take to walk? No longer than an hour, surely.

"Three. Wait around."

But it turned out I wasn't capable of waiting around. I managed for maybe half an hour, twiddling my thumbs, until the armchair was covered in purple hairs from me pulling them out. I was out of the apartment block before I knew it, and, using the route MJ and I had walked a couple of nights ago, I was nearing the McDonald's we'd gone to by eight. No one was in there, so I nipped in for a quick coffee to pass the time, then left when people started pouring in. Sergei, recognising me, "conveniently forgot" to make me pay for the coffee. I liked that guy.