Song: Already Gone cover by Sleeping At Last
***
One month later
My breath gets caught in my throat and the note comes out wrong. Very wrong.
I sound like a goat on stereoids, I think to myself, shaking my head. How did I ever land the lead role?
"Try again, from the top!" Miss Ward calls out to me encouragingly, and I nod.
With our show coming up next month, we really don't have time for me messing up. I take a deep, determined breath, and begin the song again from the top.
***
"Well, I'll try to make it to your dress rehearsal this year," my mom says as we pull into the driveway. "Just remind me when we get inside to see if I can get the time off work."
I unbuckle my seatbelt and hoist my backback into my lap. "Will do."
As soon as I get in the house I remind my mom to check her schedule, then I immediately hurry upstairs to begin my homework. If you start right now, you can do homework for exactly one hour before dinner. Then you can do three hours and ten minutes more after dinner, and that will give you twenty minutes to take a shower. Nodding in approval at my own plans, I sit down to begin my tedious work.
My phone buzzes, so I pull it out of my backpack to peek at it. A government-issued text mentions something about a murderous gang leader on the loose. I roll my eyes, seeing as that's nothing out of the ordinary these days. They send out a different "urgent" text every week. I throw my phone back in my backpack, and reach inside to haul out my books.
The small, white book given to me by the CIA men falls out of my backpack and into the floor as I pull out all of my school books. I pick the small book up, taking a moment to thumb through it.
"Considering oxygen supply is such a big deal to you guys, you sure wasted a hell of a lot of trees to make these little things," I quip, and promptly take a moment to write every obscenity that I know on the cover. I flip through the book and much like a child would do, terribly obscure every page in every way possible. I grin the whole entire time, feeling pretty good about myself.
I then take my time to tear each page out of the book, tearing it to shreds. I enjoy every moment that my fingers grip the smooth surface of each page, destroying it.
But nothing beats the moment that the little book clatters into the bottom of my garbage can.
***
"Eleanor, Mitchell! Time for dinner!" my mother calls from downstairs. I flip my notebook shut and hurry down the stairs, excited for my second favorite part of the day: eating dinner. My first favorite is, of course, sleeping.
Nearly tripping down the stairs as I race down them is the sacrifice I make for being the first one at the table. I seat myself and pull the chair forward, which squeaks loudly against the floor.
My mom glances up to me as she places a pan on the table. "Where's your sister?" she asks.
I shrug. "I heard her on the phone when I got home, I thought. Maybe she's still talking," I suggest.
My mom rolls her eyes. "All right, then. Will you go get her off the phone and down here for me?"
"Sure, but it might take some prodding," I grin, hopping up out of my chair and proceeding towards the staircase once more.
