Fallen

Chapter 22. Faking sick [Caleb]

I can officially confirm that sleeping next to an angel isn't always heaven. Sometimes it's hell.

There's a hand on my face. Not as a loving caress, a tender touch, something cute like that, no. It's more like an uncoordinated and unconscious slap. And it's the reason I'm awake already and not asleep like I want to be.

Something is resting on my chest. Pushing down heavily. Compressing my rib cage to the point of destruction. Then kneading the bones into powder. Exaggeration will always be my strong point. But it's like, half true.

A leg is thrown over my own, feet tangled with mine. Toes, kissing toes. Strands of hair tingle the tip of my nose. There's the scent of my shampoo. A mix between something sweet and bright. Like fruits on a sunny summer day. Not the worst smell to wake up to.

In an ideal world, someone will wake me up to the smell of breakfast. Crisp bacon with a waft of maple. Something sugary and syrupy yet tinged with salty sharpness. Eggs on the side too, and maybe even pancakes with blueberries sprinkled on top.

Hell, even burnt toast would do.

But in this dream of mine, someone would have to be making this for me. Someone who knows what to do. Not like Lucy, who can't even take the toast off at the right time. And most definitely not M, who doesn't even know how to turn on the toaster. That's the sad thing about being the only one in the house with the bare minimum of cooking skills.

The alarm goes off on the nightstand on M's side of the bed. It deafens the growls of my stomach. And wakes me up completely.

I yawn tiredly and try to push M off of me. The bed is big enough for two. And big enough for us not to be rubbing up against each other at night. That sounds oddly sexual, but most definitely not what I mean by it.

We should really discuss something about personal space, or personal sleeping space, at least.

"M, I can't breathe," I cry out from the weight above me. "Please, get off."

I pinch him in the side, but he only groans in return. Spreading over me even further. Like a cuddly octopus. This cannot be happening. I'm getting smothered to death.

"I need to turn the alarm off," I say, and that seems to do the trick.

He rolls over and off of me. Mumbling something under his breath as he turns his back to me. Pillow over his head.

I push myself up from the tangly mess that is the covers. I crawl over M, trying to get off the bed and not accidentally knee him in the stomach while doing so.

I press the screen on my phone. Putting it on snooze. Then I march down the hallway over to Lucy's room. Knocking on her door, she opens it, greeting me with a frown.

"Caleb, I want to stay home so I can spend time with M," It's the first thing she says.

"That's not going to happen," I reply, crossing my arms.

She glares at me, acting more like the child she is than the clever and scarily cunning 12-year-old she can be at times too. She groans, smacking the door in my face. Rude.

I shrug it off.

Lucy can only be mad at me for so long. And if she wants to do something with M, then that's going to be after school. It might be a double standard. Considering I'll stay home today to be with M. But I'm the adult here, so what I say goes.

I walk the trip down to the kitchen. Putting coffee over to brighten my mood. While waiting, I decide to call in sick for school. I can be a great actor at times, but only when it comes to two things. Faking sick and acting like I'm listening whenever Tina goes on one of her long rants about whatever hot topic there is to talk about.