Eight: Jack meets Sydney

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Chapter Eight

Jack's POV

"Jaaaaaack!"

"What?"

"Rise and shiiiiine!"

"No."

"Get your lazy bum off your duvet, Jackson."

"Go. Away. Emmy."

"WAKE UP JACK! GOD DAMMIT!"

I groan. I open my eyes, slightly gasping since my sister's face is so close to mine I could smell her breathing.

Which, to be honest, doesn't smell so good, If I do say so myself.

"Emmy, get out of our room!," I complain. "You aren't suppose to be here. Off limits remember?"

Emmy gasps,"Unbelievable. Are you being an asshole or you just suddenly forgot what happened?"

"Finny, can you tell her to get out of my freaking room?," I shout.

Emmy sighs,"One good night's sleep and you already have a memory gap."

"Gaps are my specialty,"I point out. "Cause...you know, Jack's gap."

I lightly laugh at my own joke. Emmy sighs again and hits me with one of my pillows.

"Jack! Finn's funeral remember? How could you freaking forget?,"she reminds me, slapping me with my pillow every each word she says.

"What funeral? Finn's not--oh..." The sudden realization hitting me right in the face.

"Exactly. How could you forget?," Emmy's words slapping me mentally.

How could I possibly forget my brother's death?

What. A. Brother. You. Are. Stupid. Jack.

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

Emmy bites her lower lips and lets out a breath I think she was holding ,"Just get dress. We're leaving in twenty minutes."

She gets off my bed and walks over to the door, taking another look at me she says,"Is Sydney coming?"

I gulp. "I don't know. Who cares anyway?," I grumpily ask.

"Jack, you can't blame her for Finn's death," Emmy tells me.

I sigh, "Just get dress, Emmy. Please."

Emmy sighs. Then, without another glance, leaves the room. Leaving me with my thoughts.

****

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****

"I'm so sorry."

"Condolence."

"You guys are strong kids."

These words are all I hear. I just give them a small smile.

We just planned to have a small funeral to avoid media exposure and such but I feel like it was still not small enough.

"What does Sydney look like?,"Emmy asks me.

"I don't know, Em."

"Then how are we going to know if she's here?"

"I don't know. We'll figure something out."

"Call her then."

"Later. Not now."

"Did she tell you what she was wearing?"

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