"Hon, wake up,"
"I'm already up," It's the truth, I have been awake for a couple hours now. After falling asleep after my first nightmare and waking up again from an other I just laid in bed watching the clock change.
"Good, breakfast is downstairs," my dad tells me then shuts my door. I swing my legs over the bed and go to my closest and pick out a new outfit I bought Sunday. I put it on and run a brush through my long blonde hair that's naturally straight, then go downstairs.
Matt and Archer are already up and shoving pancakes into their mouths. I receive a mumbled hello from both because their mouths are completely full.
Matt swallows and says, "You look like a zombie," I probably have the worst bags under my eyes. I must look like shit. "Did you sleep at all?" he asks.
"Nope. Just nervous about the first day I guess," I lie. I don't need them making a fuss over my nightmares again. Matt buys it, but Archer stares at me a couple seconds before turning back to his beloved food. I grab a plate and put a couple of pancakes on it, normally I would pile my plate with food but I'm not very hungry. Matt notices the lack of food on my plate and raises an eyebrow in question. I just shrug and continue eating. The boys start talking about their classes but I stay quiet, thinking.
I wonder why these nightmares won't go away. I hope they're not predicting the future. They've been going on for about a month now and I'm tired of sleepless nights. But nothing has happened so far and I don't want to worry anybody. I feel bad always waking up Archer or Matt because I'm scared of my dreams, I don't need to add stress to their lives.
After breakfast, following tradition, we take pictures which I'm sure I look terrible in. Then we say our goodbyes and get in the truck to go to school. I sit in back quietly as Matt and Archer talk about their upcoming game tonight.
We finally pull into the school parking lot that's full of students. I quickly get out of the car and grab my books heading toward the main entrance.
"Meg, wait up!" Archer calls behind me. So close I say to myself. "We have first period together," he reminds me.
"Great," I mumble.
"Let's turn that frown upside down Miss Grumpypants," he says pinching my cheeks. I plaster a fake smile on my face and continue walking.
We go through the double doors and up the main steps to our lockers. Archers says hi to practically everybody we pass in the hallway, I just keep walking with my head down. I really want this day to be over, I'm deliriously tired.
"You feeling okay?" Archer questions again as he takes a seat next to me in first period English.
"Uh, yeah. Just tired." I lie again, cradling my head in my hands with my elbows resting on the desk. Something flashes over his eyes, but it disappears too fast for me to read, "Megan, stop ly-" He's interrupted by the tardy bell before he can finish.
"Welcome back class..." the teacher starts and I zone out. I open a fresh page in my new notebook and absentmindedly start sketching, something I do often when I'm bored. My pencil moves across the canvas like second nature.
My mind starts drifting off again. I yawn and realize how tired I am. Im tired of sleepless nights. Tired of having nightmares that I'm scared to death might become reality. I'm tired of having people ask me what's wrong and if I'm okay. I'm not okay, I'm always watching my back constantly worrying. I'm getting little to no sleep everynight. It's hard and I have no clue how to make it better.
I look down at my notebook and realize I drew a scene from one of my dreams. I jump a little when I notice Archer looking over my shoulder at the picture I drew with the worried expression I've grown to hate. I quickly shut my notebook.
"That's what you dream of," he says stating more than asking it. Before I can answer the bell goes off signaling class change. I grab my books and sprint out the door before he even blinks. I thank my lucky starts that the bell has saved me twice today. I walk, head hung low, down the crowed hallways to my next class.
They rest of the day goes by painfully slow. I manage to avoid Archer all day. I sit across the room in lunch with some girls on the team. I sit as far away as I can get from him in the classes we have together. I even turned off my phone. I was tired of seeing the screen light up with new texts and calls from him. I know he's concerned but I'm the last thing he needs to worry about. He has enough going on in his own house; I don't need to trouble him with my stupid nightmares.
At the end of school Matt, Archer and I meet up at the car and head home. Archer doesn't bring it up in the car, which I'm grateful for. I couldn't handle both of them on my back. He looks like he's deep in thought, and a little annoyed the whole ride.
I hop out of the car before it even stops and head right past my dad in the living room and up the steps into my bedroom. I throw my books on the desk and fall onto my bed. I hear talking downstairs, which hopefully is not about my strange behavior. I need to figure out a way to deal with all of this.
I hear a knock on the door and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. My door creaks open and the light from the hallway shines bright on my face. I breath slow, even breathes to be convincing. Who ever it was bought the act and then closed the door behind them. I sigh in relief as I hear feet descending on the steps.
I'm exaughsted, all I want is to sleep undisturbed. I try to block the images that project on the inside of my eyelids and catch up on some sleep.
Next thing I know my dad is telling me to wake up. He tells me I've been asleep for a couple hours and that the boys game starts soon. It felt like I was asleep for a couple of second, I could've slept until the new year. My nap was very enjoyable and needed.
I follow my dad outside and in the car and he pulls out and starts driving to school. "How was the first day?" he asks me.
"Fine," I simply answer.
"You feeling alright?" if I hear that one more time, someones getting shot.
"Yeah, just tired." Same question, same answer.
"You've been pretty tired lately," no shit Sherlock. "You've been sneaking out to party?" he jokes, trying to cheer me up.
I laugh dryly, "Yeah dad, I'm a rebel," I joke back. I rarely go out to parties or stay out late. I only leave the house for school and soccer. Even if I do go somewhere Matt or Archer are always there to take care of me. They treat me like I'm 8, when I'm only a couple minutes younger than Matt. And they never let me forget it.
We get to the school and walk through the gates to the field as the boys team is huddled on the sideline. We take a seat next to Kate, Archer's mom and my dad and her start a conversation. I look onto the field and find Matt jogging to his starting position at half-line. Then my eyes scan the field and then met Archer's blue ones. I give him two thumbs up and he returns with a weak smile. He looks tense, his hands are in fists at his sides and his shoulders are pushed back. Not his normally loose goofy self. The ref places the ball in the middle and blows his whistle.
Our team is noticeably better from the start, the boys dominate the field. Matts running circles around the other teams defenders, getting in behind them and testing the goalie with his powerful shots-like normal. But Archer, in the center midfield position, is having a string of bad passes and is letting the other team go right past him. Last time I remember him playing this bad was when his dad beat Kate so bad he landed her in the hospital. Archer was a complete mess during that game and he almost lost it for the whole team.
After a torturous couple of minutes the coach finally subs him out. Then proceeds to yell at Archer, who has his head hung low. The team does fine without him, they even score twice in the first half. Archer starts the second half but ends up being yanked in the first ten minutes. He sits on the end of the bench, elbows on his knees for the rest of the game.
They end up winning 4-0, Matt scoring two of them. We meet the boys at the car, Matt smiling and Archer sulking. I pull him over to the side while Matt and dad talk.
"What the hell?!" I say, smacking him upside the head.
"So now you decide to talk to me?" he asks, eyes burning with anger.
"What does it matter?" I ask confused. "What was up with you on the field?"
"I couldn't focus,"
"No shit. Where was your head?"
He shifts on his feet uncomfortably, behind his eyes it looks as if he's having an eternal debate with himself. He opens his mouth but closes it, thinking better of it. I raise an eyebrow and look expectantly at him.
After a long sigh he finally says, "I'm worried about you, Megan. You're getting no sleep because you're having constant nightmares about people you love dying!" he spats.
"Would you keep it down?" I say, looking towards Matt and Dad to make sure they didnt hear. What do I have to do how he plays? Seeming to read my mind he answers.
"I couldn't focus on the damn game because you didn't talk to me the whole day." I stare blankly at him. How could I possibly effect him so much to cause him to play that terrible?
"It's driving me insane seeing you like this. And you won't let me help you," he says. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, running his hand through his short brown hair in aggravation.
"I'm sorry," I don't know what else to say. He opens his eyes and looks at me with that same worried expression.
"Stop looking at me like that. I'm perfectly fine," I spit, now annoyed. "I don't need your sympathy or whatever. It's not worth your time. I'm not worth it,"
Archer's silent for a few seconds. Then he steps closer and cups my face making me look into his eyes.
"Megan, your like my little sister," his words pain me a little and I don't know why, "your problem is my problem. No matter what I have going on I'll always be there to help you. You can always count on me, okay? I just hate you being hurt then shutting me out, I wanna help you," some how he manages to find exactly the right words to say. I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him planning on never letting go. He hugs me back, making me feel completely safe in his arms. His words break down my wall like a wrecking ball and I finally let go of the tears as they fall down my face. It's hard to be strong in front of everybody all the time. I know that Archer will be there for me to help pick up the pieces, he always is.
"Shhh," he soothes. "I'll be right back, okay? Get in my car i'll take you home," I reluctantly let go and head towards his car as he goes to tell my dad he's taking me home. I get in the front seat and strap in then attempt to pull myself together. Archer opens the drivers side door and gets in. He starts the car and heads back to my house.
During the quiet ride he grabs my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. He pulls into my empty driveway and turns off the car. We get out and go into the house and straight upstairs, hands still intertwined.
"Stay with me," I beg. My voice is hoarse and throat dry from crying the whole way home, "please," I add when we get infront of my bedroom door.
"Sure, let me take a shower then I'll come to your room," he says. He removes his hand from mine to run it down the side of my head, sending shivers up my spine. I nod, not trusting my voice again, and he leaves to go to the guest room. I take off my day clothes and put on a large tshirt and track shorts to sleep in. I brush my hair out then put it up in a ponytail. I climb in bed and wait for Archer to return.
Ten minutes later Archer comes in my room with hair still damp and a pair of basketball shorts on. I make room for him on my bed and he slides in next to me. He gets as close to me as possible, securing me in his strong arms. I put my hands against his bare chest and I can feel his rapid heartbeats.
"So youre nightmares are about Dad dying?" he asks me, resting his forehead against mine.
"You and Matt too,"
"And you're afraid they will come true." I nod. "but you didn't want to bug me about it?"
"You don't need more to deal with," I confirm drawing shapes with my index across his chest.
He sighs, "Meg, you're not bothering me. Whenever you need some one I'll always be here for you," I see the truth in his eyes as he tells me this. "Nothing's going to happen to me or Matt or your dad, I promise." he says planting a sweet kiss my my forehead.
"Goodnight, I love you," he says shutting his eyes.
"I love you, too" I tell him. Although a small part of my brain wants him to say it to me in a non-brotherly way, but I push that thought aside.
I snuggle my head into his chest and fall fast asleep.