Of Frost & Cinder (Old Version)

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My eyes flit around the room in search of my cellphone, and I'm hit with the sobering awareness of the sunlight peeking through my sheer curtains.

"No! No, no, no, no...I'm late! My Dad's going to kill me!" Even though my legs feel like noodles, I'm able to push out of Beck's lean arms.

I can feel his eyes burning on my back as I scramble towards my closet. On my way over, I practically trip over myself and with a glance, I see that I'm standing on a makeshift bed. A pang of guilt slams through my gut as I realize this is where Beck must've slept. He stayed the night on my salt-covered carpet and used a stuffed animal as a pillow, along with a thin blanket that wouldn't even be sufficient for a child.

"Beck?"

"What?" He grumbles. He's already pulling on his own shirt and jacket, and as I watch, I realize that there's more important issues than where he slept last night...like why the hell my throat is burning and why my vomit is the color of gasoline.

I clear my throat and resolve not to say something about the bed. "Oh, um, don't go anywhere, okay?"

He nods his agreement and I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom to clean up in record time.

When I return, Beck is putting all the ingredients from the spell in a pile in the corner of my closet. It's a totally chaotic mess, but I commend him for even bothering.

"So, you making breakfast?" He says when he stands. He looks totally refreshed, like sleeping on the floor was equivalent to a five star hotel.

"No, I need to leave for school. I already missed practice."

"Conall," Beck steps forward, shoving his hands into the front of his jeans. "What happens when you start upchucking in the halls?"

"I feel fine. That was just...I probably ate something bad."

Yeah, a ground up flower, I think. Any normal person could throw up a flower. I'm just not sure they'd throw up silver tar. "Alright, do I need to drop you off somewhere before I go to school? If so, we need to go now."

I shove my car keys into my pocket and do my best to balance while sliding on a pair of boots. I still feel weak; my joints ache and my stomach is rolling, but if I'm going to be honest with myself, being sick is going to be the least of my worries after missing my morning practice.

"I still think you're better off staying here."

"Honestly, other than this headache, I feel fine. I'm more worried about the raging voicemails from my dad that await me." I shudder at the thought of even looking at my phone. I can only imagine the list of missed calls and texts from Dad, even Pete.

I sigh, "Besides, after the weekend I just had, I need to get out of here and feel something normal."

"So, instead of finding out why you're still not remembering, you'd rather sit in a classroom and listen to repetitive lectures on Shakespeare and Osmosis?" Beck snorts. "How about you wait hereuntil I find someone who can help?"

"You mean your wicked witch? Yeah, no thanks." The memory of Olivian Lucke with her arm at my throat makes the burning sensation return. I told her I wouldn't get Beck involved, yet here he stands in my bedroom.

Beck growls, "So be it. You want to drown in your own vomit, you can do damn well without me."

"Why are you helping me, anyway? What's in it for you? If I'm just some girl that interrupted your night, then why do you keep coming around? Why bother to follow me home or to tell me all this stuff about witches? It can't be as simple as wanting to know what my memory is blocking."