When You Wish Upon A Skye

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"Wake up asshole." The words popped my drowsy eyes open.

I srubbed my eyes gently, trying to get a better vision of my surroundings. My furniture were all still in their exact place and I was not sleeping on the marble floor. Good. I groped my head, then my face, just in case some features went missing while I was asleep. Finding out that they're all still there, perfectly glued to my body, I sighed in relief. I'd always done this morning checking every day as I woke up, since I was nearly bald after waking up drunk at Chester's house.

Then, my eyes landed on my door, which was wide opened. Standing in front of it was my little sister with both her hands crossed in front of her chest, looking agitated as ever. "Wow, Stacey, that’s very nice of you for being so considerate. And yes, I feel marvelous on my birthday, thank you for asking," I sat on the edge of my bed; fake smiling, and landed a palm on my chest, gesturing how touched I was by her action.

It's seven in the morning and my sister woke me up by calling me an arsehole, on my birthday. "Where'd you get that word anyways?" I frowned.

"None of your business."

"When my nine years old sister calls me names? Oh yes it is."

"I'm nine and a half."

"Still not old enough to call me an arsehole," I shrugged.

Stace rolled her eyes lazily without moving an inch. "Whatever. Get up, we've got school."

"Nah, I think I'll use my birthday pass," I wagged my hand, trying to dismiss Stace from my room so I could get some more sleep.

"You sure? It's Tacos Tuesday," she teased.

"Stace, I could buy all the tacos I want if I stay at home," I ensured her. "Besides, school tacos are disgusting."

"Fine," she scoffed before walking her way out of my room, leaving the door ajar.

I flopped myself down back onto my bunk, causing it to thud loudly. "Mind the bed!" Mom yelled from downstairs. I think she gave me a lecture about not doing a free fling to the mattress, but I was already fast asleep that I didn't hear a word coming out after the word 'bed'. Seriously, my mom cared less about me than she cared for a bunch of springs. I cost more than the freaking mattress, mom.

I managed to steal a few minutes of sleep, until I heard a bang in front of my door. I stood up in a hurry, afraid of the possibility that it could be a robber. I crept slowly to the closed door and picked up my wooden baseball bat on my way. "W-Who's there?" I stuttered.

I didn't hear any answer, and heard a muttered cursed instead. "Shit, that hurts!" A girl's voice, I noted.

I decided from her squeaky voice, whomever it was that she couldn't be a threat, so I flung the door open. I was ready to swing my bat if she was up to something bad, but what I saw crouching helplessly with her butt glued to my mat was something different.

She was about five feet tall – no, take back my words. She was exactly five feet tall. Her dirty blonde hair brushed the edge of her shoulders and her light brown eyes radiated pain. I stood there in silence, my mouth agape. The hell was she?

"Are you going to just stand there and stare at me until I bleed to death or what?" She grunted, mumbling another thing in a low voice that I just couldn't catch.

"You're not even bleeding," I said. My mind was still blanked because of her sudden attendance.

"You really do suck when it comes to treating a lady," she retorted.