Messed Up Vita

Chapter Thirty-Six

My eyes snap open, and I immidately know by the light in my bedroom I've overslept. I flip my messed up covers off my body and feel the cold of the morning on my bare skin. I quickly slip some radom black shirt over my torso and pull some jeans off my floor on. I check they're both clean, and then quickly grab a comb of my dresser. I comb my hair on the way to the bathroom, checking myself in the mirror. Decent enough, except for the wild look in my eyes from waking so suddenly. I don't worry about it. It'll eventually wear off. I grab my glasses and slip them on without a thought. A few days ago these would be hidden in the back of my bathroom closet, away from sight and mind.

   I love Eliot for changing that.

   I skip a shower, since I had one yesterday after school. I quickly hop out of the bathroom, swinging the door and almost taking out Uriah on the way.

   "Dude!" he protests. "We have ten minutes. Calm."

   "Ten?" I repeat. I look at the clock on the wall. Seven thirty-five, which is almost exactly ten minutes before we have to leave. I glance back at Uriah and realize he still has only his underwear on, and his curly hair looks like it came straight out a blender. He looks lazily at me for a moment, and then pushes past me into the bathroom. 

   I swallow in relief, and quickly run my hand through my hair again. Every day, Uriah's forced to give me a ride to my school. He's in a different one-- a private school-- because our parents could only afford us one kid at a time, and Uriah's the first. Not like I'd care, anyways, where I went to school. I heard his private school's really strict and they have to eat silently or else they'll get detention. I never really wanted to go to that school, and for another reason, too. My best friends are at mine, including my own Eliot. I wouldn't leave her for that. 

   I walk upstairs, grabbing a loose pair of socks from the floor. I quickly slip them on, and realize I'm fully ready except for breakfast. I have enough time to text Eliot, if she's even up this early. Or this late. 

   I skip two steps at a time, reaching the main floor in two seconds. I grab my phone off the counter, grinning. I unlock it open, and quickly go to my messages. Eliot's name is on speed dial, at number three. The first two are my parents. I tap her number, and it goes straight to either message or phone. I tap the message, and start writing a text.

   "Why're you smiling?" my mom asks, leaning against the counter. Ann and Kale run across the kitchen, playing their usual game of tag before school. "Are you texting a girl? Oh! The girl you're taking to the dance?" Her voice has that Mom-tone, where it gets all suspicious and sweet at the same time. 

   I roll my eyes. "Would it matter?"

   "Of course!" she says. "I would love to meet her."

   "I never said I have a date," I protest.

   "Yes you did," Mom says. "Well, we all assumed, since you talk about her like she's the moon itself."

   I feel heat growing on my cheeks, a horrible trait I've inherited from my Mom. She has naturally rosy cheeks, and it's not hard to tell when she's embarrassed. Even dropping something slightly, she'll get a blush. I want to smack it off my own face sometimes. Including now.

   "Well, you can't meet her," I say. "She's always busy."

   "Not busy enough that you're going to text her," Mom points out. "Right?"

   She's good at this. She should quit housework and become a lawyer. 

   "Uh, I do like her," I say, wording my words very carefully. "And I think that. . . I'll just have to ask her if she's not busy enough to meet you, alright?"