Enjoy ;-)
••••
Monday morning rolls around much too quickly, and I'm reminded of that when my cursed iPhone begins its vibrations on the nightstand. Next comes the damned cheery salsa tune that has me slamming a pillow over my ears. As the haunting sound keeps on blasting, I groan through the torturous effort of reaching over to the device with the tip of my finger. Sensing victory, my head lifts slightly from the mattress... but the phone deviates from the pressure of my hand and tilts over the edge of the nightstand. I watch with absolute horror - now positively awake - as it cracks when it hits the polished floor. I let out an annoyed moan and bury my face in the pillow, screaming out curse words that are deafened by the soft squishiness. After mulling out various ways to pull off a sick-day, I finally give in and pull myself out of bed. I immediately feel the cold autumn air hit me. A shiver courses through me as I pad over to the open window with brows furrowed in confusion. Why does it keep opening up? After examining the lock and finding nothing remarkably out of place, I sigh, noting to myself to tell Dad about it later. If this is another case of my previously incessant sleepwalking, it's seriously starting to get out of hand. I'm going to catch hypothermia. And honestly, what will I do next? Jump out the window? I shudder at the thought. Yes, I seriously need to get it fixed; the window and me.
•
After having showered and dressed in a pair of plain jeans, a comfy and bright yellow sweater and combat boots, I quickly brush through my hazel curls and let them fall naturally, applying a thin layer of lip-gloss and mascara. The ends of my hair reflect blonde highlights as the morning light hits them in the mirror, and I absentmindedly twirl a lock around my fingers. Today is my first day at the new school. To say that I'm nervous would be an understatement. In fact, I'm slowly dying inside, to put it lightly. The fear is literally eating me from the inside out. I let out a shaky breath. "Get a grip," I mutter to myself, swinging my bag over my shoulder before proceeding out into the hall and down the stairs. As I take the first step, I catch a glimpse of Mum braiding my little five-year-old sister's golden hair with bright pink hairbands. She's in that phase: the Barbie dolls and the pinkness overload.
When I reach the last step I collide into comforting arms that wrap around me, and I bury my paling face in Dad's jumper. He pats the back of my head comfortingly. "Don't worry, Cami, it'll be fine. You're with Emma, remember?" I nod and take a step back, clearing my head with a deep inhale and steady exhale.
"I know, I'm just nervous. It's just school," I reply, forcing a tight smile back as he grins and nods once, heading back into the living room. I'm going to be totally fine, I remind myself. A new place, new friends, and a new beginning.
"Bye Dad," I say, beginning to shut the front door. I hear him say, "Get something to eat," before the door closes behind me. I barely register his words as my mind is already racing again. To deviate the bad course of action of those thoughts, I focus on the little red Mini pulling up on the side of the road. The passenger window rolls down and Emma's red hair pops into view.
"Get yo ass in here," she shouts, rolling it up again. I shake my head with amusement, swallowing down a lump in my throat. "It's going to be fine," I repeat over and over again as I walk towards the car and slide into the passenger seat. "You feeling okay," my best friend asks with a comforting tug of the lips as I shudder. I nod once, wiping my clammy hands on my jeans. Gross, just what I needed: sweaty palms. Willing the day to go well, I reach for the radio and turn it on. As Twenty One Pilots' Heavydirtysoul blares from the grills, Emma pulls out and the distance between my home and the awaiting school gradually decreases.
·
"Zander!" Emma squeals and waves her boyfriend over as he enters the study hall, while I just dip my head lower from all of the unwanted attention. We came here at a time that I thought was early, but people were already in here laughing loudly and gossiping, and guess who the talk of the hour was? You guessed it. Me. After receiving an overload of stares and giggles as I tripped over a bag in the way, I decided to take a nap on folded arms. I've probably got the mark of the book on my face. Right now, I would much rather be hidden away all alone in a dark corner of the library to be honest. But for some absurd reason, parents insist that their children be educated and social at school.
"Hey babe." Zander closes the distance between them in long strides and picks Emma up by the waist, dipping his head down to kiss her. My unopened book suddenly looks extremely appealing.
"It's too early guys. Keep it PG-13 please," I mutter, and Zander's eyes flash with gold before dimming down to his usual brown colour as he growls at me. I blink in astonishment, once, then twice, but the extraordinary colour is gone as quick as it came. I shake my head and lower it again, willing the bell to ring as soon as it decides to move its lazy arse.
"What's that on your face," Zander grins. I groan and bury my face in my yellow hoodie.
·
If x=y and 2x-h+67-(46y)x23=h, what is then the common n- What the fuck?
I sigh, resting my cheek on my hand and twirling my pen around. My pen's movements seem so much more interesting than algebra. It's been forty minutes since I entered this cursed room, my last morning class, and the clock's steady beats seem to have slowed down with time.
"Pss-" A paper ball taps against the back of my head. Hard.
"Ow," I exclaim irritably.
"Is something wrong Ms Wilson?" Our Daniel Craig wannabe maths teacher Mr Philips pauses the chalk he is using on the board and raises an eyebrow at me.
"No, sorry." I hide my face behind my book and hear him sigh before resuming his inventions of the impossible maths problems.
"Psst!"
"What?" I turn around and Emma glances at my sheet.
"Have you found the answer to 3/b yet?"
"Nope," I reply, popping the p, and she groans with frustration, flicking the pen at the side of her face.
"You've got ten minutes. I'm picking these up for grading," Mr Philips suddenly declares. He sends us a pointed look as the class erupts in bewildered disclaimers. I stare at the blank paper in front of me. Besides writing down the questions and one or two answers, I've done nothing.
None.
Nada.
Nichts.
Maths does that to me.
I pull out my iPhone discreetly and glance at the time. 11:58.
Shit.
Fuck.
Two minutes left.
I look down at the paper again, gripping my pen tightly until my knuckles turn white. Just as I'm about to give up, everything comes rushing back to me. EVERYTHING. That happens to me when I freak out. I let out a breath of relief and fill out all of the blanks just as Mr Philips begins picking up the sheets. He comes to my table and looks down at the paper that's now completely filled with - hopefully - correct answers. He nods approvingly.
"It seems as though you won't fail my class after all, Ms Wilson."
Jeez, thanks for your outmost confidence in my algebraic capacities.
The bell rings and chairs scrape against the tiled floor, leaving the room in complete chaos. I feel Emma tug urgently at my arm and send her a questioning look as she pulls me out of the room frantically.
"Emma, what's up?" Her eyes go wide with shock.
"We have to get lunch before the line gets too long dumbass! Think about it! Think about the food!"
"It's probably not even that good," I retort. She narrows her eyes at me and tugs harder, bringing my face close to hers. In a whisper, she confides, "Trust me. It's good."
At the mention of good food, I feel my stomach grumble and a storm erupts in my belly. My eyes widen as students begin to crowd their way to what I presume to be entrance of the cafeteria. "What are we waiting for then?"
"For you to get a brain. Now come on," Emma exclaims, leading the way hastily through the thick mass.
·
"Watch it," I warn threateningly when Jasper, or Jack – I've given up by now - makes a move to pick one of my fries.
"Oh, temper, temper," he hums.
"You just ate two whole burgers Jack," Emma exclaims, leaning into Zander's side. His arm immediately wraps around her, sending a death glare at a passing guy who just happens to cast a glance at his girlfriend. Damn possessive. How the hell does she manage to put up with that? I'd want freedom once in a while.
"But I'm a growing man," Jack defends, whining like a two year old. It's quite funny actually, watching a sound like that come out from such an athletic man's lips.
"More like an overgrown baby," I mutter, shoving a fry in my mouth. He sends me a glare and I giggle, pushing my tray towards him. His eyes light up and I shake my head in disbelief as he gulps down half the dish in a second.
"Yeah, sure, go right ahead," I mumble. He sends me a thumb's up, finishing up the rest of the fries. "By the way, how do you manage to differentiate Jack from Jasper," I ask, taking a sip of my Sprite.
"We-" Emma begins, but Jack's quick to cut her off.
"No! Don't say anything! We want to mess with her," he exclaims. I narrow my eyes at him, but he just sends me a crooked grin, a left dimple appearing on his cheek. So damn adorable.
Zander growls at him for shouting at his girlfriend but he just responds by letting out a chuckle. "Fucking hell man, chillax, I'm not going to try anything with your ma- girlfriend. With your girlfriend." He quickly recovers, sending me a look. Emma looks down and Zander just stares at him. I look at them all curiously.
"What were you about to s-"
"So where's Damien?" Zander cuts me off abruptly and I glare at him. He ignores me completely. I look at Emma but she disappears further into his embrace. I raise an eyebrow: they're hiding something from me.
"With Asher," Jack says casually, inspecting the last fry to determine how he's going to eat it. "He's kinda... restless," he finishes, taking slow bites from the fry. Something inside me stirs when he says that name, but I shove it into the back of my mind, blaming it on low blood sugar. I'm hungry, but not hungry. What the hell? I'm going insane.
Courtesy of the red waterfalls.
I nearly jump with surprise when Jack bursts out laughing and Emma face palms herself. "I just said that out loud didn't I," I mumble, shielding my face with my hair to hide my red cheeks. Well shit.
"Uhuh." Emma looks at me weirdly and shakes her head while I shoot daggers at Jack who still isn't done laughing at me.
"I'm going to murder you later," I tell him matter-of-factly.
"Oh. But I'm hard to kill baby." He winks and I flip him off, gulping down the rest of my Sprite and blocking his laughter from my mind. He's such a flirt, exactly like his brother. Now that I'm thinking about that, I really need to ask Dad to widen that doorway.
·
I cross my arms to provide a bit of warmth as the cold autumn air hits me. I quickly shut the back door and take a few steps towards the edge of the forest, listening to the satisfying crunch of withering leaves underneath each step I take. Emma dropped me back home twenty minutes ago, and the first thing I did was to go find my sketchbook. Well, first I ate a chocolate-chip cookie. But then I did the former.
As I walk towards the trees, I blow out little puffs of air and watch each one fade in front of me. The autumn colours range from shining golds to deep scarlets, from crackled browns to harmonious oranges, and the faint sunrays filtering through the heavy clouds are just enough to illuminate the leaves with tiny sparkles. I carry my sketchpad in one hand and my charcoal pencils in the other, focusing on every possible detail that could catch my attention and oblige me to draw every aspect of it. Back in my old city, my sketchpad had been filled with looming buildings, car-filled traffic and rushed people shoving their way through the crowds, because there had never been enough nature to change the subjects of my drawings. But now I have a whole freaking forest at my disposal.
The sun is slowly setting behind the mountain peaks in the distance, and the restless birds are slowly calming down. At this time, the animals are usually slower in their movements and less aware, so it's the perfect opportunity for me to add a drawing of them to my collection. I take in another inhale of crisp cool air and wrap my coat tighter around me, placing my sketchbook and pencils on a log nearby. Suddenly a branch close to me cracks and I still, slowly turning around. My breath catches in my throat as my eyes settle on a beautifully majestic deer, lazily eating the damp grass a few feet away. Its fur looks as smooth as glass and sparkles from the marigold lighting. I quietly sit down on the log, watching my every move as to not scare it away. I choose a pencil carefully as the deer continues to munch on the grass, and it takes a few steps now and then. I begin sliding the dark tip of the charcoal across the blank page, watching with concentration as the soft outlines of the mesmerizing deer appear. Next come the details, and I carefully whisk away the gentle hairs on its glistening fur and the twinkles in its almond eyes.
"You've got an artist's eye."
I drop the pencil with shock as a deep male voice rises behind me. The deer only lifts its head for a second before it has set off.
Escaping.
I turn around slowly, and my breath hitches in my throat as my wide eyes settle on a dark skinned boy, dressed in black from top to toe. Or rather - a young man. His eyes glint with something that promises danger, and every step he takes is slow and calculated as the trees crunch satisfyingly under his combat boots. The forest stills. He lifts up my pencil from the mossy ground and straightens, before walking towards me and getting closer and closer to my trembling form.
Why am I trembling again?
For fuck's sake Camilla, man up!
But I'm a woman.
Since when are you a sexist bastard?
Shut up.
Man up then.
He's a beast.
"A beast?" The man chuckles, inspecting the pencil closely as if it's the most interesting thing on Earth.
Shit, I just said that aloud didn't I?
"Yes. Yes, you did." He bends down on one knee in front of the log where my arse is stiffly parked, handing me the pencil. I take it with a wavering hand, flinching as my skin connects to his. It's curiously warm, considering the dropping temperature in the shadows of the autumnal forest. "What is such a young girl doing out in the forest in the dark, all alone?"
"It-it was l-light when I came out," I respond, lifting my chin defiantly.
"You shouldn't come out here at all," he says, and I loose my voice when his drops to a lower tone, turning it threatening and almost - deadly.
"Why not," I ask, picking up my sketchbook and standing up with crossed arms. He tilts his head, eyeing me from bottom to top. He shakes his head, letting out a humourless chuckle.
"It's dangerous out here. Beasts roam it at night, restless beasts. And you obviously have no luck today, because it's getting very dark, very quickly," he finishes, taking a step forwards. His eyes flash with something golden and I blink, trying to catch it.
Exactly like Zander.
Suddenly, a long howl sounds through the silent night and my blood turns cold. The man's face hardens abruptly. "You should go," he murmurs, eyes cold and promising, "Before it's too late." I turn to go quickly, clutching my sketchpad tightly. At the sound of footsteps I turn around again, and I let out a long disbelieving breath.
The man's gone.
You should go. Before it's too late.
Before it's too late.
Too late from what?