It Started With A Concussion ✔️

Chapter 9

I reach over the counter and hand him his cone. "Where's mine?" Tyler asks in a whiny tone.

"Don't be such a baby, I'll get yours in a minute." I say, glaring in the direction of giggles I hear on the other side of the parlor.

I roll my eyes in annoyance as I watch the group of girls swarm around Jackson. And their attire along with their voices only make me cringe harder.

They try too hard.

"Oh, and I'm pretty sure you made the school page again Em." Tyler adds, swiping through his phone.

"Why?" I ask, turning to him.

He flips his phone around and I watch a video of me and Jackson shoving each other a few minutes ago.

"Oh my god." I say under my breath.

Tyler and Nate only laugh as I walk away. Grabbing another cone I walk over to the ice cream and plop two scoops on top.

Ringing the both of them up I tense as the next customer walks up to the register.

"Nicole." I say her name in a low voice.

"Emery." she says in a honey-laced tone, yet it sounded artificial like it always does.

I told her how much she owed not ignoring the little pieces of clothing she had on. It had to be the lowest cut top I've ever seen paired with jean shorts that were probably giving her a wedgie.

Her bra was fully out, similarly to her boobs.

Like I said before, they try too hard for him.

After she walks away I let out a sigh of relief. Turning to the clock with a frown I realize I still have another hour of this.

Kill me now.

~~~~~

Obviously my wishes didn't come true but I was able to push past the dreadful sixty minutes. Don't get me wrong, working there was great, I'm sure not every night will look like that.

The only reason I would consider it taxing was because I had to listen to some girls' high pitched voices—scratching my eardrums.

Their giggling wasn't much better.

But now it's Saturday. And it's game day.

I woke up to the front door slamming shut. Assuming El and Ty just left, I laid my head back on the pillow.

The game was at two which meant it was probably around twelve. Groaning at the realization, I pick my head up and start to maneuver out of bed.

I sleep too much sometimes.

Heading downstairs I see my parents in the kitchen looking put together. You know, fully dressed, ready to go, showered, have their own responsibilities in check.

Me, I'm nowhere close to that. I walk in with a tangled mop of hair thrown into a messy ponytail, wearing my pajamas, and a grumbling stomach.

"Morning sweetie." my mom says, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Morning mom." I say with a yawn.

I open the pantry and grab a box of cereal from the top shelf. I pour myself a bowl and take a seat at the counter.

"So, when are we leaving?" I ask in between bites.

My dad looks up from his phone. "One-thirty. Do you want to drive?" he asks with a smirk.

I smile. "Of course. I'll be extra careful."

The mornings were quiet like they usually were and I spent most of my time in my room before we left.