Broken

• Chapter 11 •

"WAKE UP!"

I groan against my pillow, my eyes refuse to open.

"CLEMENTINE, WAKE UP OR YOU'LL BE LATE!" mom's voice bellows.

I don't know whether to scream or cry, I haven't gotten enough sleep. I'd gotten home at three from the party, and I'm guessing it's around seven at the moment. I need at least eight hours of sleep to function!

I force myself up and rub my eyes tiredly. "You're growing up so fast," mom tells me.

Her words are barely even registering in my dead brain. I reach for my phone and see that it is in fact, seven. Eric will be here in twenty-five minutes. I debate on whether a shower or sleeping an extra ten minutes is a better use of my time. Mom makes that decision for me when she tosses a glass of ice-cold water on my face.

I jolt up from my bed in shock and resist the urge to cuss her out, "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

Mom shrugs, "You needed it. Look at you now, you're awake. You're welcome," she tells me with a smug smile.

... She's not wrong. I want to be angry, but I'm suddenly awake. I sigh deeply and wipe the water off my face.

"Next time you want to go out until three on a school night, you'll rethink your decision," she scolds. "We were lenient this time because it's Eric and it's your first day back. But no more going out past eleven on weekdays," she tells me.

I'm too tired to complain or comment, so I simply wave her off and make my way to my bathroom for a cold shower. Thankfully, the water does its job and fully wakes me up. I brush my teeth, hair, and I even shave my legs when I realize this school has uniforms. A white button-up shirt reaching three-fourths down my arm and a high-waisted red-and-black skirt.

I re-think their morals when I look at the skirt. I'm not complaining because it's a lot better looking than I'd imagine uniforms to look.

I snort to myself. LA, baby. Land of the hoes.
___________________

"Morning," I tell dad's back as I walk into the kitchen.

"Good morning, sweetie. How are you?" he asks cheerfully.

I cock my eyebrow at him. "Good, despite being forced to be up this early. What are you doing?" I peek behind him to see a couple of useless tools such as scissors, hammers, and spatulas beside pieces of toast and peanut butter.

"Packing your lunch," he shrugs.

"What?"

"Is that not what I'm supposed to do?" he scratches the top of his head, unsure of himself. "It's your mother, man," he tells me as he glances back towards the pieces of toast. "She told me to make you a sandwich."

I snort and my eyes bulge. "Okay, and what the hell are you using scissors and a hammer for? Are you going to go out hunting for my food right now?" I shake my head as I make my way to the counter to help him make a peanut-butter sandwich. 

"The hammer is for the painting your mom wants me to hang up, shut up. I just brought it in here. The scissors are to cut off the edges, duh!"

I laugh at his defensiveness. "That is so pathetic and cute!" I tell him in utter amusement.

He narrows his eyes at me. "Just don't ever try cooking or doing anything in the kitchen ever again, please. You probably accidentally poisoned it," I add as I professionally scoop some peanut butter onto a butter knife and spread it evenly on the toast. Wow, I'm such a chéf.

"My cooking skills aren't that bad," he huffs.

"They are," I tell him without hesitation.

"Are not."

"Are too."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"No."

"YES!"

"HA!" I snort in disbelief, how did he fall for that? He sighs when realizing that he has fallen for this yet again. "I don't understand how anyone can fall for that," I tell him.

"Shut up and take your sandwich. I hope it is poisoned, now," he tells me as he shoves me lightly and fails to wrap the sad sandwich. I pinch the bridge of my nose as he looks at me helplessly.

My phone beeps inside my bag, I check it to find a text from Eric saying he's waiting outside. I sigh deeply and walk up to dad, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek and taking the sandwich from his hands. "I'm sure it'll taste lovely. Bye, dad."

"Don't talk to any boys."

I roll my eyes at him as I make my way to the front door. "I MEAN IT!" he shouts from the kitchen, which earns him a snort from my end, "BYE, DAD!"

"BYE, BABY! HAVE A GREAT DAY!" mom rushes from her room before I close the door.

"Bye, mom. Thanks!" Geez, they're acting like I'm five years old.

I close the door behind me before they say anything else.

"Well don't you look cute?" Eric smirks as I step out of the house. His eyes rake my body, causing me to subconsciously tug my skirt down.

I give him an eye-roll and a matching smirk. "I know," I tease.

He walks towards his car and opens the door for me. The boy's uniform isn't that bad, either. Dark gray pants, a white collar shirt, and optional dark blazer.

I hop in and give him an exaggerated formal thank you, peasant. Which in turn grants me a royal hand gesture otherwise known as the middle finger from him.

I laugh to myself as he slides into the driver's seat. Guess the weirdness from last night is gone. Good.

"You ready for your first day at Satan's lair?"

"Let's hope."