Sleeping With Ghosts

#8

Layne:

19th of September

The sharp ringing of my alarm yanked sleep away and drew me towards it. I slid the alarm to off and deflated back on to my bed. As with every morning, school just didn't seem like an option today. I sighed running every possible subject through my head that I'd have today.

Then I remembered, Layne. I shoved the sheets away from my legs. I scrambled out of bed. And promptly tripped over a tendril of blanket reluctant to let go of my leg. I hit the rug beside my bed, thankfully not the hard concrete. I groaned, rubbing my elbows and disentangling myself. I'm glad no one was there to see that.

I heaved myself to my feet by the bedside table. I rummaged through the draws and pulled a pair of ripped blue jeans on, and a plain black T-shirt.

I made myself a bowl of cereal, and a cup of coffee. Sitting on the kitchen counter, I texted Layne, reading our uncertainty in yesterday's conversation and cringing.

You walking to school?

I put my phone down and watched it, robotically lifting mug and spoon to my mouth.

My phone buzzed. I snatched it up, barely setting my coffee straight.

Dude I just woke up.

You woke me up.

I chuckled evilly to myself.

Yeah but are you walking to school?

He didn't reply for a second, two seconds, five, twenty, a whole sixty seconds. I was being irrational, but it doesn't take that long to right 'yes' or 'no.' I bit my lip, wondering if I should say something and risk being annoying or don't say something and risk him thinking I don't care. I made a decision after nearly 300 entire seconds without him replying.

Layne?

I replaced my phone on the table, determined not to send more than two messages in a row. It buzzed as I returned to my soggy cereal.

Sorry, I fell asleep.

Yeah I'm walking.

I giggled. How cute, he uses punctuation in texts.

Wait for me, I sent

Sure, he replied.

I turned my phone off and sculled my cold coffee when my Mom marched into the room, face crackling with more tension than a lightning bolt. "Kurt, get off the counter!"

"Sorry, Mom," I slid off of the counter and turn the sink tap on.

"And wash your dishes," she ordered.

I sighed, "I know, Mom."

"Don't take that tone with me, Kurt!" She snapped.

"Sorry, Mom," I repeated.

I placed the dishes in the drying rack and dried my hands.

Mom called me back when I tried to leave.
"Ah! Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Um..." I dug around in my brain to find possible answers.

"Aren't you going to tell me how your day of school was?" It sounded less like an inquisitive remark and more like an observation on the weather.

"It was alright," I shrugged.

"I heard you made a friend. What's their name?"

"Layne. I have to go brush my teeth now," I rushed out. My shoulders relaxed marginally as I brushed my teeth. Why did she have to torture information out of me when she'd obviously already dragged it out of Dad? Did she gain sadistic pleasure from watching me squirm under her judgmental eye? If I had stayed, would she eventually have plucked my nails out with pliers until I had her proof that I had a crush on a boy? I shuddered, flexing my hands, glad I still had nails.
I glanced at the comb beside the sink and decided against using it in place of my fingers.

I shrugged on my leather jacket at the door. Shoes on, bag over my shoulder, I opened it and shouted, "Leaving!" Before slamming it behind me.

I all but dragged Dave out of his house, still munching on a half eaten piece of toast.

"What's the rush?"

"Layne's walking with us."

He shook his head, "Of course that's the reason. Oh, forgot to ask, anything happen yesterday?" He waggled his eyebrows.

I stole a bite of his toast before he could snatch it away. I spoke around the mouthful, "No, but he's gay."

His eyebrows stopped wiggling but remained elevated, "Why, exactly?"

I told him about his Dad, watching the ground as it rolled by beneath our feet.

Dave nodded sombrely. "What exactly makes him so attractive? Explain to me, someone who is completely straight and doesn't "accidentally" stare at every guy's ass as he walks by."

I wrinkled my nose. "I do not do that! Okay, If there was a girl version of that creepy kid in our Music class, would you stare at her ass?"

"Hell no. Okay, jeez, I take it back, you don't check out every guy. But seriously, I'm interested, what do you like about Layne, appearance wise?"

I considered this for a moment. Was it his wide blue eyes? Full lips? Unique style? Height? "Everything," I decided.

"That doesn't help! I'm trying to understand your mind, here!" He waved his hands about and gestured to my head. I shrugged. He groaned.

Up ahead, Layne leant against his gate, reaching for something, probably his phone, then pulling his hand back. He looked up when he heard us arguing. "You two having a falling out?" he called.

Dave nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah, your my new best friend now."

I huffed, crossing my arms. "I was just using you for your answers in Maths, anyway."