Anxiety Attack

Chapter 2

 Finley's P.O.V.

“Welcome home!” someone yelled back, probably my mom.

I dropped my bag on the floor next to the door and slipped off my shoes, heading towards the kitchen. Walking in, I saw my mother and father standing at the counter, cooking something, probably dinner.

“Smells good,” I said smiling.

At home I talked more and stuttered less.

“Why are you home an hour after school ended?” my father asked.

“I had a detention,” I said carefully, gauging my parents' reaction.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “You? Detention?”

“I was late,” I explained. “But by only a few seconds. The teacher is really unfair.”

“Why were you late?” Dad asked, drying his hands on a towel.

“I was talking to someone,” I said vaguely. “Well, I gotta go, homework!”

I quickly fled the kitchen, avoiding the flurry of questions that were about to come. I stopped by the door to grab my backpack before bounding up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As I passed my brother's door, I banged on it, letting him know I was home. We did this to each other all the time, just to piss the other one off. Opening the door to my bedroom, I ran, launching myself into the air and landing with a soft thud onto my bed. I lay spread-eagled on my bed, looking at my walls.

They were a light green, covered with posters and writing on the walls. I had posters of my favorite bands, animals and some were just pictures of me with my family. My comforter was a mixture of colors, with the same light green on my walls mixed in. I had a desk that was cluttered with all of my miscellaneous things and my laptop.

I found my eyes simply looking at my school bag, thinking of all of the homework I had, but I felt no desire to get up and do it. Instead, I let my eyes flutter shut and I fell asleep, tired from my stressful day.

…

“Finley!”

I woke up to someone calling my name, echoing faintly from downstairs. I rubbed at my eyes and sat up, glancing around my room before landing on the clock with read 6:04. I had slept through all the time I usually did my homework.

“FINLEY,” I heard my brother, Luke, yell from somewhere, probably getting frustrated with me. “DINNER'S READY!”

“Okay!” I shouted back, considerably quieter than what he had been.

I stretched and stood up, feeling my stomach growl. I hadn't eaten since lunch, which was rare since I usually had a snack after school. I pushed open my door and made my way downstairs, my stomach grumbling louder as the smell of dinner became clearer.

“Smells amazing,” I said as I walked into the dining room, ready to eat my dinner.

“Took you long enough,” Luke mumbled.

I frowned at that. Luke thought he was better than me simply because he was older, nineteen where I was a measly seventeen, but he hadn't gotten into college and I was well on the road to getting into one. “I was sleeping.”

“Did you do your homework?” Mom asked, setting the pan full of our dinner onto the table.

I peered at it, feeling relieved when I saw chicken alfredo. Chicken alfredo was good. “No, I fell asleep.”

“You'll have to do it tonight,” Mom said, ladling servings onto everyone's plate.

“I know,” I said, watching her spoon move and trying not to drool as a heaping serving came near my plate.