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❝ Why is Peter Pan always flying? Because he Neverlands.❞
WHAT WOKE CHARLOTTE up was the frantic, harsh whispers and ferocious shaking from Skylar.
"W-why would you do that?" Charlotte said sleepily, stretching her back in her sleeping bag.
"Because of that!" she shrieked, pointing directly at a giant lump.
Charlie yawned, turning around to look at the thing in the sleeping bag beside her.
"Wait, is that Teddy?" she murmured, discretely yawning again.
"Yes! And do you realize how much dad will kill you if he notices a boy in your bedroom? He once caught Spencer and I and he nearly skinned us alive!"
"We're not like you guys," Charlie whispered, glancing at Theodore, who was stirring. "We're not dating."
"Do you think dad will know? Or care?"
"Crap, you're right," she mumbled, getting out of her makeshift bed for the might. She flicked Theodore on his forehead. "Wake up, idiot. You were supposed to be gone already!"
"Huzzoh?" he muttered incoherently, shooting up, frazzled. His black hair was sticking out in every direction possible, fluffy pieces flopping into his face.
"You need to leave," she whispered, grabbing his arm and hauling him up. "My dad's going to notice I'm not downstairs eating breakfast any minute now!"
She fought with the window, finally getting it to creak open. "C'mon, hurry up."
"I can't find my glasses!" he whispered back, on hands and knees searching for them. Skylar grabbed his sleeping bag and shook it out, the glasses tumbling out. He shoved them on his face and scrambled to the window, his gray hoodie slightly wrinkled and his hair still all disheveled.
"Go, go, go," she said, shoving him onto the fire escape.
"Charlotte, are you okay up there?" she heard her father yell from downstairs, probably making breakfast.
"I'm fine!" she hollered, slamming the window shut just as Teddy squeezed out of it. He was standing, staring at her through the window with those vibrant blue eyes, watching her shove the sleeping bags back into the closet and throw the pillows back onto her bed.
Go! she mouthed.
He gave her two thumbs up and darted clumsily down the stairs.
Charlotte sighed, falling onto her bed with her arms crossed behind her head.
"You've got it bad," Skylar tsked.
She was watching Netflix when her phone rang.
"Yeah, what's up?" she asked, closing her laptop.
"Um, s-so... I kinda want to see Violet b-but I'm not... I don't..."
"I'm free this afternoon."
"Thank God," he mumbled. "I'm sorry. It's just, with you, it would be easier."
"I understand. I'll wait outside."
Charlotte grabbed her phone and slipped on converse before she headed down the stairs. He was there in less than five minutes.
He had obviously showered and cleaned up since morning, now wearing a Marvel shirt and a pair of shorts. His hair had been brushed, no longer the frizzy, tangled mess is had been. She opened the car door and slipped in.
YOU ARE READING
A Note A DayTeen Fiction
Anxiety-ridden, nightmare expert Charlotte 'Charlie' Jackson has been receiving witty, heartwarming, anonymous notes since the beginning of the school year. One afternoon, Charlie notices she did not find a note for the first time all year and sudd...