The Omen

ꕥ Chapter Eight ꕥ

I sit in my room typing away on my phone, trying to ignore the sounds Lydia and Jackson are making downstairs.

My phone rings signaling I have a text and I quickly hold it up to my face once more. 

From Stiles:
r u sure ur okay

To Stiles:
Yes I'm sure I'm okay.      

I text for the fifth time. Since I passed out after the whole Derek fiasco he hasn't stopped texting and calling to ask if I was okay, which I was. I hadn't felt any urges to go into omen form in the past week and I guess I was kinda liking it.

It gave me time to think about the real problems in life, like who I'm taking to the winter formal.

I was thinking about asking Isaac because our somewhat date to the bowling alley went well. Lydia would probably allow it and there wouldn't be any mixed signals because we are friends.

My phone buzzes once more and I pick it up.

From Stiles:
r u sure

To Stiles:
If you keep asking me I won't be...

I sigh and lay back on my bed, looking at my ceiling. Downstairs Lydia laughs loudly, causing me to smile.

At least she is happy.

I flip onto my stomach and grab my math text book, deciding I should probably do some studying before school tomorrow.

I look at the pages as the words seem to meld together. I always hated math, mostly because all of the story problems make no sense, who the hell is buying forty two lemons?

I grab my phone and type a quick message to Stiles.

To Stiles:
How do you do question four on the math homework?

I smile as I hear my phone buzz immediately.

From Stiles:
its a simple quadratic formula

To Stiles:
Stiles, when I ask how to do the question I really only want the answers...

I sigh and close the text book, knowing Stiles won't just give up the answer, mostly because if I tried hard enough I could get the answer, I just don't want to.

Like Lydia I have perfect grades in every subject in school, but the only reason I have a good grade in math is because I'm able to get Stiles to help me on most of my homework.

I glance down as my phone informs me I have one last text.

From Stiles:
tmrw after school we'll go over it

To Stiles:
Sounds good.

I turn off my phone and fling my body over, laying on my back once again. I ponder the idea of sleep for a moment before deciding that if I get coffee in the morning I could survive without  normal amount of sleep.

I glance at the clock and see that it's barely nine o'clock, meaning that even if I went to bed now I would get nine hours of sleep. That's too many hours of sleep, I wouldn't be able to sleep tomorrow night. I roll over again, this time instead of feeling my bed underneath me I'm greeted cruelly with nothing.