All In Half A Days Work

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Bright, unwelcome sunlight was streaming in through my bedroom window when I cracked open a bleary eye. Groaning against the sudden glare, I rolled over to see why my alarm hadn't roused me from my restless sleep when it was supposed to. The answer became evident after several groggy blinks. The screen was blank. Confused, I swiped the little clock from the bedside table, pushing random buttons in an attempt to revive it. Nothing. It was dead. I must have bashed it one too many times in my semiconscious state and accidentally snuffed out its electronic life. Great. I tossed the alarm across my room in agitation, but the dull thump as it hit the carpet near my bedroom door was far from satisfying. With a weary sigh I sat up in bed, rubbing at my sleep heavy eyes and wondering what the time was. I'd gotten home last night - or I should say early this morning, around five expecting my exhaustion to carry me quickly into a dreamless slumber, but sleep had not come easy. Instead I'd picked up where I'd left off in Irvine's - before Tyson had interrupted me and brought with him a temporary reprieve, the ache in my heart at Riley's absence coming to the forefront and overwhelming me with its intensity. I'd sobbed into my pillow until my eyes had run dry and my voice cracked, and until I'd managed to push the ache back, burying it behind a carefully constructed wall where it would stay from then on. Finally drained of tears and mentally exhausted, I'd hunkered down and fallen into a restless sleep, my dreams full of haunting images where all of the people I knew and loved had smiled sadly at me, waving in the distance before they walked away, their bodies becoming smaller and smaller until I could no longer see them. Of course I had run after them screaming, but either they couldn't hear me or didn't want to. And for every step I took, it seemed like the people I was chasing were taking three, and a disembodied ghostly laugh had tormented me, finding great humour in my distress. I shook my head, trying to clear my head of the unwanted images. It was only a dream, I reminded myself sternly. Yes, Riley had gone overseas, but Courtney and Mel were still here. Simply a phone call away.

I let loose a long yawn, briefly toying with the idea of ditching school and staying home, but regrettably had to dismiss the idea when I tallied up the amount of days I'd missed already. The last thing I needed was some nosy school counsellor noticing the sudden rise in my absences from school and coming around to investigate. So instead I dragged myself from the bed and into the bathroom, muttering incoherently about nosy school counsellors out to ruin every teenagers fun. While the hot water from the shower loosened my stiff muscles, it did little to improve my sour mood. It also did little to reduce the puffiness around my eyes. Splashing cold water on my face didn't help either, it just drew out the redness and made it all the more noticeable. Sighing in defeat, I stalked from the bathroom to find something clean to wear, a task that would have been a lot easier had I kept my washing up to date. My bedroom floor was strewn with clothes, some of them clean, some of them having recently belonged to a pile of dirty laundry at the foot of my bed that had somehow dispersed and mingled with all of the clean stuff. After a clothing hunt in which I almost snapped an ankle tripping over a three inch heeled boot that was hiding under a pair of black jeans, I chucked on a pair of denim cut offs and threw on my favourite - and very holey - t-shirt, all the while cursing the stray shoe and the pair of jeans and the hazardous pile of clothing as a whole, like it totally wasn't my fault that my room had become a death trap in the first place. Aggravated as ever, I'd stomped down the stairs and into the living room, snagging one of Riley's jerseys from his room on the way and pulling it over my head. Deciding that a hunt for my ever elusive hair brush would take up too much time and would also mean scouring my potentially deadly bedroom floor, I finger combed my hair and wrapped it into a loose chignon at the base of my neck. My car keys were on the dining table where I'd chucked them earlier, along with the jacket Tyson had let me borrow. I'd tried to give it back to him when we'd said our goodbyes in the parking lot, but he'd just shrugged and told me to get it back to him later. The chilly morning had kept me from arguing, so I'd simply nodded and climbed into my truck without another word, trying to ignore the insane part of my brain that was giddy about the fact I was wearing a boys jacket - a particular boys jacket that smelled heavenly.

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