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Chapter 2

YAWN!!!
I think waking up in the morning is the only bad thing anyone can say about sleeping. Having to peel your eyes open isn't the best of feelings. I rushed from my bedroom, not caring if anyone outside saw me in my bedclothes (my boxers) through the window. Thoughts of the stranger had completely disappeared from my mind. Now he was little more than a remnant of a dream.

The new bathroom was small. There was a shower/bath to the side, a sink in front of me, a toilet and of course toilet paper. Where would we be without it? It was perhaps one of the greatest, if not THE greatest, inventions known to man kind.

Twice I banged my knee on the sink and twice I scowled in pain.

I studied my reflection in a small mirror lying on the window sill. My normally on-point black hair was arranged messily from its meeting with my pillow and there was sleep in the corners of my bright green eyes.
I ran the tap water for a few moments (I learnt that its gets warmer the longer you run it) and washed my face, mumbling with satisfaction. Oh, how I longed for that "fully awake" feeling.

I clumped down the stairs. Rooting through the cupboards in the kitchen I pulled out some Honey nut cheerios and poured myself a glass of orange juice.

My dad was still fast asleep. He didn't know how lucky he was. I ate in silence, continually glancing out of the back window, looking out into our ragged garden. There was several detritus out there, including a rusty old shopping trolly. Some people had too much time on their hands.

I washed my bowl when I'd finished, thinking about the day ahead of me. Wednesdays are the second longest day for me, the first being Thursdays.

I dressed quickly, checking the time. 7:49. I pulled my clothes on quickly. A checked jersey, black hoodie and an old pair of slim dark jeans. They fitted me well.

My black converse were worn but still managed to cover my abnormally large feet without much problem. If I could stop growing sometime soon I would really appreciate it, I thought to myself. I'm already 6'2'' at the age of sixteen so I can only imagine how tall I'll be when I reach eighteen.

I spotted some money on the edge of the table. I counted the coins quickly: 2 quid. Enough to buy a cheeseburger and maybe a can of liquid death. In other words, an energy drink. Oh, my dad was good to me.

I needed a part time job desperately, something to fund my unhealthy smoking habit. I'd take anything really as long as I'm making good money. Beggars can't be choosers.

I checked my pockets and sure enough my emergency cigs were still there. I allowed a grin to break out on my face which was almost instantly replaced by a look of confusion. What the hell was I doing with my life?

I left the new house quietly, lithe as a cat, all the while envying my sleeping dad. The second I had locked the door I was removing a B&H cigarette (1 out of 5) and tucking it carefully behind my ear.

I was home free.