Exhale

Chapter 14 - Woke

"Alastair, wake up!"

I opened my eyes. Crumbling white. I sat up and looked around. Scattered books and dirty sheets. I released a sigh of relief. Thank God—I was finally out of that nightmare of a dream. I turned to the owner of the voice. It was Esmae. Though this is atypical, thank the Lord for her, too. I brushed my long bangs back with my fingers, feeling the sticky grease in it.

Murmuring, I said, "Thank the Lord for Esmae today."

"That's gonna change pretty soon if you don't start moving soon," she remarked. Putting both of her hands on her hips, she said, "Because of you, we're already behind schedule. You know, for someone who goes to sleep really early, you sleep in a lot."

"Yes, yes, I hear you," I said and then groaned as I stretched my arms.

Getting out of bed, I maneuvered over to my closet. Drowsily, I opened it and scanned it for my gear. Like usual, resting at the southern right corner of it, was my old uniform. I grabbed the white shorts and black tee. It was already gathering dust despite being used one week prior. Brushing it off, I began to change. Well, not before noticing that a certain carrot top's gaze was still on me.

Turning back, with an unamused look, I stated, "I thought privacy was a thing."

"But you're a guy, Al. Why does it matter?" she asked, cocking her head. Snickering, she added, "And besides, your figure is a lot like mine, so there's not really anything new for me to see."

I threw a shirt at her. She left.

Sighing, I finished getting dressed. Like usual, as routine states, I looked at myself in the mirror. My locks were unruly, but I didn't bother with them. After all, what was the point of fixing something that was only going to get messed up again? Attention was going to be drawn to my gas mask, anyway...or to my ridiculous knee-high socks. One or the other. My white hoodie and shorts were also a bit wrinkled, but I didn't really have time to do anything about that. As for the status of my face—well, I appeared as approachable as a masked man could. That's good enough, right? Still, despite that being on my face, I couldn't help but notice the growingly noticeable dark shadows underneath my eyes. Although they were already there, as per the night before, they had become a darker hue. But still. It wasn't too bad—it could be worse.

Deciding that I looked presentable enough, I walked out my room and to the younger teen. As predicted, she was standing out my door, quietly whistling some tune. I patted her on her head and she looked up at me.

With a dorky smile, she said, "Wow, you still look like a mess. Not even a hot mess—only a mess. Didja even try, Al?"

No response.

She sighed. Murmuring under her breath, she said, "Man, Al, you're only amusing in the very early mornings—why can't you give me any satisfaction?"

"I don't want to be your second Phillip," I replied, "I'm not interested in pointless small talk."

She pouted. "You know, Phil and I don't just talk about whatever random thing pops into our heads. Anyway, we don't even talk that much—I talk to you lots more."

"That's hard to believe."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Don't we have somewhere to go?"

Still murmuring under her breath, she submitted and dropped the subject altogether. Instead, she scurried to the stairs and I followed suit. With a bounce, she skipped steps all the way down the stairs. Slowly, I followed behind. Below, I could hear the conversation of the team, discussing the details of the mission.