Jem: Starving Artists [EDITED]

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Chapter 24

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Chapter 24

Starving Artists

Jem

It was three am when my eyelids stretched itself open, exercising itself by blinking away the blurriness of my vision. It was three am because it felt like three am: cold, but not cold and cold because of the wetness from the rain outside. The rain woke me up, I was assuming, because I responded to the soft pitter patter ricocheting off the glass panes utilized for shutters. I just lay there for a while, counting to the sound of rain for time to come and go but time only come and go when you didn't notice. So I distracted myself:

"Ellis?"

There was a mass of stirring. Her short bob moving into one collateral mass indicated her consciousness. When he thought of Ellis Chan, he thought of clever retorts, perfectly straight tweed skirts, fingers braiding dark hair, narrowing brown eyes, tips scrawled in the margins of her notes, ink stains on her books, pursed lips. 


"Hmm?" she moaned into the pillow, stained with God knows what. One eye opened and it was full of dark brown.

"Are you awake now?'

A sigh. Annoyed. "Well, I am now."

"Can we just stay up and talk?"

"About what?"

"Life."

"No."

"Why not?'

"I'm exhausted."

"I am too but I am forever incapacitated by three a.m thoughts."

Ellis yielded by facing him but she wasn't pleased about it. "I swear," she griped, doing that huffing, blowing hair out of her face thing she always did whenever she was taxed, "Dealing with you is like dealing with a five-year-old, deprived of attention." She propped herself up the wall.

"More like deprived of sex."

"Pig."

"Prude."

"You're not allowed to call me that now that we're friends. Or have you not been listening?"

"Of course I've been listening! That's all you ever do- and it's talk. Girls, honestly."

Though it was dark she could still aim particularly well when she punched me...in the ball sack. "Ow!" I clutched as stars splashed in my vision, pain blinding me irrevocably. I could practically feel her smirking in pride.

"So," she said, faux sweet, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Bitch," I tucked my chin into my neck indignantly, hands pressed over my throbbing family jewels, saving my last plausible chance at having children. "Are you going to apply to Harvard Medical again?"

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