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BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
With a loud (and rather unladylike grunt), my body rolled over and my head scooted under the pillow, attempting to block out the annoying noise of my alarm clock.
The bright number read out 7:15 in the morning. The sarcastic remarks seemed to pile up at the moment, but I decided to ignore them.
My hand slipped out from under the covers and reached around for the snooze button. Dang, I can never find it when I actually need to. Middle of the day? Sure there's the snooze button, all up in my face. But the second I start to wake up, it decides to go crawl under a rock.
I finally just shoved the clock off the table and it hit the floor. Shoot, it's still going off. With a loud groan, I tried to block out the noise. Finally, there came a momentary lapse of noise, letting me sigh in relief. About five minutes later, it started up again. Loud. Annoying. Loud.
With a loud and obnoxious groan, I threw off the covers, rolling out of bed. And oh, I do mean roll. As in, I rolled out and fell on the floor face first. I opened an eye and slammed the palm of my hand against the snooze button. I sat up, rubbing the side of my face where I had just hit it. Groaning once more, I got up and flung myself onto my bed, snuggling under the covers. Maybe just a few more minutes of shut eye ...
Suddenly, my bed wiggled and I felt about 55 pounds land smack dab in the middle of my back. "Wake up, Gabby! Gabby! Gabby! Gabb -"
On and on it went for the next several minutes, by which time my left eye had already begun twitching beyond belief and I felt the need to scream. Not at my little brother, per say, but just in general; just to get the weight off my chest.
Or maybe I just needed to throw Eddie off. Yeah, we'll go with the second one so nobody gets suspicious. Grabbing the boy's shoulders, I grunted and flipped him off the bed and into the large mound of pillows and blankets on the floor. He let out a strangled 'OOF!' and started laughing, throwing his arms up in victory, his light brown hair a mess and a stupidly happy glint in his eyes given what time it was.
"That was awesome, Gabby! Can you do it again?" He pulled his infamous puppy dog face on me and I could feel my already tired and weak resolve crumbling. But, there really didn't exist a possibility of me getting him to land on the blankets again. That was a fluke. No doubt if I tried again, we would end back up in the hospital.
I've unintentionally injured my brother more times than I can count and I think if it continues, my parents will assume something is up.
I watched from my pillow as my young and somewhat eccentric little brother walked up to my double closet doors and grasped the handles. I raised my eyebrow, studying his actions carefully. Eddie flung the doors open in a large and ostentatious manner, letting his hands rest on his hips as he tapped his foot on the floor. I couldn't help but smirk. He had no idea how funny he looked right then. A seven year old boy playing fashion designer. I guess I shouldn't be surprised he decided to an interest. The kid knows how to do everything and anything; he has tried everything possible at least once. I just hoped the early wake up call was a one time thing.
"Now," he began, thumbing through the clothes he could actually reach on the hangers. Let's just say the bar in my closet was pretty tall, even for me. Now, try to imagine my short little brother trying to reach those clothes. It's clear whoever customized my room customized it for Goliath. "What shall we be wearing today?" Eddie rhetorically asked at the top of his voice. I squinted my eyes and pursed my lips, watching him.
Why is that dork in here again? I thought to myself, rubbing a hand over my eyes. "Nothing you pick out, squirt."
He whirled around, horror etched onto his small features in shock. He reformed his look into a glare, crossing his arms. "Hey! I can pick out something tasteful! I pick out my own clothes for school everyday," he announced proudly.
I tried not to mention how his clothes were wrinkled, there was a grape stain on the shirt he wore most often, and he was, in fact, seven. The other boys in his grade didn't care and the girls still thought he had cooties.
It's a much different scenario.
"Sweetie, I don't think that showing up as the school girl version of Iron Man classifies as tasteful."
I held back a laugh as I saw his face fall. I knew that's what the little dork had in mind. His eyes brightened up and he opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "I'm not going to be your rendition of the Hulk, either."
He pouted, crossed his arms before turning his nose up in the air and stomping out, mumbling something about sticking to video games.
"You're such a little diva ..." I mumbled loud enough for him to hear, digging my head back into my pillow with a smile. With a content sigh, my eyes fluttered shut again, falling back into a semi-sleep. I drifted off, halfway in dreamland with visions of running around dressed like a pirate.
And then ...
Squeak squeak.
My nose scrunched and wrinkled up, annoyed that, once again, my dreams were being pushed aside. Oh, good day in the morning, what is that noise?
Squeak Squeak.
Oh ... it's the hamster wheel.
I totally knew that.
Breaking my eyelids apart, I smiled sleepily at my pet, his beady little eyes gazing back at me. "Good morning, Rhino," I cooed at the small creature, running furiously in it's wheel. I always wondered why he ran like a maniac. Did he feel the impending doom of something being right behind him and felt the need to run, even if it was in place? Was he visioning a girl hamster at the other end of the imaginary road he was on? Can hamsters even imagine things? And even if they could, it'd probably only be about running and carrots ... right?
Speaking of which, I needed to grab a couple from downstairs. Sneaking out of my room so as to not attract attention, I put my non-existent ninja skills to use, tip-toeing down the stairs. No one else had taken refuge in the kitchen yet. Though, I was temporarily distracted from my mission when the scent of coffee wafted by my nose. Oh, how I love the timer on the coffee maker. Almost immediately, my mouth began watering.
Smacking myself across the face, I told myself to focus on Rhino. Rhino was hungry; he needed sustenance.
Forcing myself to turn away from the coffee maker, I yanked out the last two carrots from the Zip-Loc bag, tossing it in the trash and started cutting the carrots into strips.
During the minute it took to cut those up, I learned several valuable lessons. Lesson One: Never cut carrot sticks when you've been awake for only five minutes. Lesson Two: I get easily distracted. Lesson Three: Watch where you cut.
With a yelp, I yanked back my finger and groaned. Right on the tip of my index finger on my writing hand, there now existed rather nice gouge. I quickly turned on the warm water in the sink, letting the blood wash off my finger.
I seriously needed to pay more attention when I'm trying to prepare food for my hamster. It's apparently an occupational hazard.
Blood gone and finger bandaged, I turned to go back upstairs for a shower with the carrots sticks in hand. But not before I caught a glimpse of the clock on the microwave.
What? It can't be 7:45 already! My eyes grew to ridiculous proportions as I realized the walk to school took fifteen minutes. Which meant if I didn't get my butt into gear at this very moment, I would be late for home room.
"Oh, crap!" I sputtered out as I ran into my bedroom. I dumped the carrot sticks into Rhinos food bowl, making sure his water bowl was full as well. I grabbed several items of clothing and ran into the bathroom, hoping they looked decent together when I put them on. Maybe I should have let my little brother help pick out my clothes after all ...
One short shower, jeans, and a black t-shirt later, I struggled to get my feet crammed into my Converse and ran my fingers through my hair. It would have to do for now; Shelby had make-up at school, so the bags under my eyes would just have to be dealt with at that point in time.
Taking a second to stare at my animal, I watched in awe as he took one of the sticks and snapping it into several little pieces, shoved it all in his mouth and sat there with a pooched-out face, his beady little eyes shining with delight.
How do they do that? It's like being Elastagirl, but in hamster form ... and only in the cheeks.
Shaking my head to get back to my current situation, I picked up my bag and pulled it over my shoulders. "Bye, Rhino," I called out as I shot out of my room.
Darting down the stairs, I kissed my little brother on the forehead and waved goodbye to mom, who threw me an apple on my way out the door. "Bye, guys. Love you!" I shouted over my shoulder, pulling on my favorite blue hoodie.
The walk to school felt as if it took forever. Eyes cast upward, I watched the clouds rolling in over town. Only half the sun peeked out at this point, promising a cool and maybe a little bit rainy of a day. Those were always my favorite. Even though I would be forced to sit in the library rather than at my tree, it still made me happy.
Most of my peers, and even those older than me, believe opposite of me and find cloudy, rainy days to be depressing; more of a source of doom and gloom than the relaxing and soothing feeling I get. Those dimly lit hours of the day and the soft pitter-patter of rain on the roof and windows provided the perfect ambiance for reading and relaxing.
I had to bring myself back to reality when I discovered my New York canter had turned into a Sunday evening stroll. I didn't have time to stroll, I needed to canter! Groaning, I picked up my pace and began to jog.
"Brilliant. Just brilliant," I muttered under my breath as a few raindrops started falling. If I had been on my way home rather than on my way to school, I wouldn't have minded so much. I guess it didn't really matter anyways considering I looked like I just went on a scavenger hunt through a jungle.
I guess all this rain meant no eating under my tree. The only downside to the wonderful weather. Now I'd be stuck in that smelly school for 8 hours straight. Can I get a booyah?
Yanking my hood over my head, I started to run. Of course, by the time the school came into view, I was wheezing and coughing and spluttering with a sharp pain in my side. I'm not one for exercise. I happen to be blessed with a high metabolism, one of the things Shelby hates me for. The other thing is my ability to trip over things that don't exist. Apparently, it's quote / unquote, 'cute'.
Bite me.
Checking the time on my phone, I slowed down, throwing open the doors to the school. Yes, at this rate I was going to be late. But I would rather be late than show up mid heart attack.
"Oh, Miss Holmes!"
I tried to muffle the groan that forced its way to the back of my throat as I backtracked. Poking my head around the corner into the main office, I slid a rather bright and charming smile on my face considering how early it was.
"Yes, Mrs. Reid?" I replied politely, pulling my entire body back into the doorway.
She stood up, her black pencil skirt and peach blouse out of place in the rather drab office. She waved her hand and for a moment, I thought she needed my attention. But me being me, I came to understand she was actually telling another student to stand up. My attention immediately zeroed in on him and instantly, I knew this guy just started here.
I tuned out Mrs. Reid, as this was not a new game to me. She usually had me show the new people around, so I knew she just needed to spout off the usual guidelines and ask the ritual questions before I started showing Blondie around.
I let my eyes drift over to him, just enough to take in his appearance. I gotta say, he wasn't half bad. Shaggy blond hair, big brown eyes. His lips seemed to naturally curl up into a content smile. Good, this school could always use the positivity.
"I suppose that's it, then. Welcome to Washington High, Mr. Cooper," Mrs. Reid finished with a smile and handed Blondie his schedule and welcome packet.
Awesome. Let's get this show on the road.
"And here is a pass for homeroom, Miss Holmes," She handed me the slip of paper and I mock saluted her as a thank you, turning on my heel. I really hoped she would remember the pass and thankfully, she did.
Mr. Cooper turned to me with a smile and I motioned for him to follow me. "Catch you later, Mrs. Reid!" I shouted over my shoulder, closing the door behind us.
"So yeah, hi," I started, a tad awkwardly. "I'm Gabrielle."
"I'm Evan. Nice to meet ya."
His grin just seemed to grow wider each time I looked over at him. Seriously, any wider and the kid was going to split his face in two. Not that it wouldn't be a sight to behold; I would just prefer to get him to homeroom in one piece.
As we strolled down the hall, I took in the daily routine. I rolled my eyes when I spotted Aimee and Brandon standing by her locker, giggling and holding hands. Yeah, because nobody saw that one coming.
It was pitiful really. Did they have constant break-ups just for the sheer pleasure of attention? If so, there are much better, easier and less stressful ways to get it. I'm just saying.
"So it seems like a pretty nice school," Evan tried, patting his hand on his thigh a couple times to some beat. Ah, so he's one of those awkward-silence people.
Me? I love the silence. I love being alone, cooped up in my room with nothing but my heartbeat and breathing as the background noise. I mean, I like music. Who doesn't? But when one is trying to read a novel, the words on the page and the words in the song sometimes get mixed up and suddenly, the sentences don't make sense and you're left wondering what in the world you just read.
It's sad really.
So to watch Evan as he began small talk, a one way conversation mind you, captivated me. I had never been big for small talk. Shelby loved the big news, the hottest topics and the most controversial. She craved the fast paced conversations and one liners the school generated. That made her quite easy to listen to. She left no room for a reply back and I liked it that way.
I liked hearing the whole story before I gave my opinion.
But small talk was a whole different animal. I would have to be seriously social in order to do that. I'm not a shy person by any means, but I'm not exactly a butterfly either. Sometimes, I just never know what to say back to people. Like when they talk about the weather and how wonderful the sunshine is. My first reply is to let them know that I personally hate the glare and overly bright atmosphere the sun gives and prefer rain and clouds. However, that would seriously stunt the growth of a healthy exchange. So should I lie and say that the sun is the best thing ever and I could just sit in it all day?
This is the dilemma I face whenever I have to talk to other people. They don't exactly get the different nature of my mind and personality. I have a lot of quirks, some a little large. My obsession with novels, for one. Few kids my age spend time with their nose jammed into a book. Sure, they would read occasionally and I had even heard a few teens talking about the online community Wattpad. They seemed to enjoy that enough. But it just wasn't to the same degree as me. Trust me, I tried to engage a lot of people in conversation about novels. Anything from new to classic. Nothing is off limits for me.
"What locker do you have?" I asked Evan, leaning a little to read the paper.
"Uh, number 199."
Nodding my head, I abruptly turned down the hall. "Lucky you, that's just a few lockers down from mine."
We stopped at his locker and awkwardly chat for a few minutes as he stuffed his backpack in, grabbing a notebook, a pen and his textbooks.
We shuffled down to mine next, the same routine taking place.
Evan popped his lips and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet. "So ... what is there to do around ..."
Sadly, he doesn't get to finish as he was interrupted by my best friend. Some manners you got there, Shell.
"Andrew Sheedy broke up with his girlfriend of two years today. O-M-G, can you say high school drama at it's finest?" Shelby squealed, running up behind me and scaring the daylights out of Evan. His eyes were wide, his lips pulled into a thin line and his posture rather stiff. He awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the other. Shelby rambled on and on about Andrew and his now ex-girlfriend, not exactly noticing she was making the newest addition to Washington High a bit uncomfortable. Poor guy.
I chuckled as he let one of his hands scratch the back of his neck and ruffle his blond hair. He shoved his free hand into his jeans pocket and he just looked so awkward and nervous that I all I wanted to do was cuddle him like you would a kid on their first day of kindergarten.
"Adams, take a breath," I finally told her with a soft pat to the cheek. Her eyes widened a little and she stopped mid-gesture. With her mouth hanging open a bit, she reminded me of a fish.
Brushing her fiery hair over one shoulder, she threw a smile in Evan's direction, finally acknowledging him. "Hey, you must be the new kid everyone is talking about."
With her eyes looking him up and down, Shelby gave a slight nod of approval as she muttered, "Not bad, not bad ..." under her breath as she turned to me. "I take it you're his escort for the day?"
I nodded my head and gestured between the two. "Evan Cooper, meet Shelby Adams, the resident nutball."
I received a swift smack to the back of the head for that one, but continued never the less. "Shelby Adams, meet Evan Cooper, the resident new guy."
The two shook hands and immediately, Shelby started asking him one thousand and one questions. Where did he move from? What's his favorite color? Does he bleach his hair or is he naturally that blond? Basically, no subject remained untouched by Shelby Adams.
Evan stammered and blushed his way through the questions, occasionally looking to me for support. But honestly, what could I do? I had been given the same ringer as him. All I could do at the moment is grin and watch as she gave him the third degree.
It was so much more funny when it wasn't me.
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"And behold - homeroom."
I waved my hands with exaggerated pizzazz around the frame of the door.
"I guess I'll drop by after Chemistry since you have it in this room and then we can walk to Gym together. Sound good?" I asked, heaving my bag up onto my shoulder again. It constantly slipped, dragging the collar of my shirt down and it drove me crazy.
He nodded and backed up towards the room. "Sounds good."
Not bothering to wait until he was safe and secure in the room, I whipped around and booked it to my next class. Regardless of the fact that I had a permission slip for helping Evan around, I hated being late to my classes. I had managed to snag cranky teachers this year, the only kind one being in English. Thank the stars for that because to tell the truth, I'm not sure how pleasant of an individual I would be if I had a cranky old badger who ruined reading and writing for me.
Let's just say that water gun in my locker would finally get put to use.
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