wanted | mystal

late morning

Nine

Rowan

"Rowy, time to get up," I grunted and turned my head, immediately regretting it when the light from the window hit my face. I turned back the way I was previously, feeling mom moving my hair out of my face. "I set up your hair appointment,"

"When?" I finally opened my eyes.

"Next week, three in the afternoon,"

"What time is it now?"

"It's eleven," she answered.

"Can I sleep more?"

"No, it's time to get up. I let you sleep in late," she stood up. "We have dinner with Michael at six," she left me to get ready, but I ended up falling asleep for ten more minutes until she came back in to wake me up, this time with Southy. Though she left again, Southy stayed and took my spot on my bed.

"Aren't you lucky?" I mumbled. I didn't bother changing, but I went downstairs where mom was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. I always envied how she could wake up and still look perfect. She didn't bother changing, but still looked like she could go out and look presentable to everyone. Meanwhile, my hair was a mess, I had large dark circles under my eyes that wouldn't go away, and I just flat out looked like shit.

I put a bagel on the toaster and grabbed some cream cheese out of the fridge, waiting for it to toast. "What should we do before we go out?" mom asked.

"I have homework," I answered as she came into the kitchen.

"Would you have time to run errands?" she asked, but I shook my head. "Make a list of what you need, I'll pick it up,"

"Thank you," I said, then my bagel popped out of the toaster. I took the two sides out, dropped them onto the plate before I put cream cheese on them.

"I'm getting fruit for the morning, you've been living off of bagels for the past two weeks,"

"It's easy,"

"I'm aware, but you need something healthy,"

"No,"

"Yes," she responded, before going upstairs. I huffed, but sat down at the island and scrolled through tiktok. I quickly scarfed down my breakfast, then got out my bookbag and flew through my math homework, which wasn't as bad as I assumed. When I finished the worksheet, mom came down ready for the day.

"I'll go to the store with you,"

"I thought you had homework," she frowned, but I handed her the worksheet.

"Can you check through it, please?"

"Yeah, go get ready," she shooed me upstairs, so I rushed up. I threw on a pair of running shorts and a large shirt before going back downstairs while braiding my hair.

"Is it good?"

"It's perfect, I don't get how you're so good at math,"

"I'm not,"

"Yes you are," she argued. "Get shoes, we need to leave,"