Hey all, this probably isn't very long, and i'm sorry but I don't feel great, so it may be a bit short.
Anywhoo, enjoy chappie 11 :D
I had a great evening. No bothering from my parents, my ankle didn't hurt, as I had taken too many painkillers, I was in a good mood from watching Dunston checks in. It was definitely a bonus that I had been texting Zac non-stop, too.
He did know about Dunston!!! We had a whole debate about who was our favourite character, and what was the funniest part, which then turned into 20 questions to get to know each other.
I discovered he is in his first year at university, studying medicine, he loved dogs, had a phobia of waxwork figures and hated spiders. He had so much in common with me, apart from studying medicine. I would be the world's worst doctor as I was so ridiculously squeemish. I wasn't sure what I wanted to be, or study. I suppose I wanted to be a teacher, but knew it would never work with my people skills, or lack of.
Overall it had been a great day, but as the saying goes, all good things must end, or something along those lines, and my fabulous day ended as I slipped into comfortable dreams of meeting Zac and Elliot.
I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed from one of the best nights sleep I had had in ages. I hopped (literally because I couldn't reach my crutches) over to my wardrobe and carefully-CAREFULLY? I never cared what I wore before.... Mm- a white gypsy skirt as I couldn't wear trousers over my cast, a floaty baby blue top and dark denim jacket. For once I was rather pleased with my appearance. I have went as far as putting on concelear to hid my spots and eyeliner.
WHAT THE PRESIDENT OF AMERICA IS WRONG WITH ME?? Why should I care what I look like?? I haven't for the last four years, what's different now??????
'You sound like a love-sick teenage girl!' I mentally scoffed.
'I'm you.' my conscience stated as if it would make the situation clearer. It didn't.
'What the monkies has that got to do with anything?'
'You aren't very intelligente are you? I'm part of you, and if I'm a love-sick teenager, it's only because you are too.'
'I'm not love-sick, I don't even like any boys!'
'Uh-huh, sure you don't. Give me a boys name.'
Wondering what the point of this was I answered with the first name that sprung to mind:
'Ahah! You do like someone!'
'I do? Who!?!' I asked sarcastically pretending to be excited.
'Zac, duh, why else you you say his name?'
'Cause it's a common boys name, and it was the first one that came to mind.'
'See, you do like him. Don't argue, I know I'm right.'
Finally, the smug little voice left me alone, bringing me back to reality. I blinked and looked around in surprise. I was sure I was in my room when I started talking to the anooying voice who themselves my conscience, but now I was sat at the kitchen table, spooning tasteless cereal into my mouth and chewing heart-heartedly, my crutches laying beside me. All subconsciously. THAT WAS TOTALLY AWESOME!!
I finished my subconscious routine and headed out the door, and walked, well hobbled, the 20 minute walk to school enjoying the cool breeze through my soft, clean and brushedhair that was looking a lot better than it had in four years.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Your VoiceTeen Fiction
Lana Freston had had an awful life. Her parents ignored her, she was bullied and she had secret she could never share. Her best friend betrayed her, and her other best friend left. However, the new school year sees change, in the form of Elliot Mond...