Beech - Legend of the Dryads, Book 2

Chapter 1

"Morning, Jaynie!" sang a chirpy voice, even more chipper than usual today. Jayne let out a sound that reverberated deep in her throat, sounding somewhat like the groan of her bedroom door as it was flung open, and rolled over in her bed to face the wall, desperately trying to cling on to the last few glimmers of the dream that was already scampering away, far beyond her reach. The unnaturally buoyant Sue ignored the morning grumps of her teenaged granddaughter and unveiled the window on the far side of the room. The muscles that were clenched tightly behind Jayne's eyelids burnt from the unforgiving light of the outdoors as it was concentrated into her tiny room, eliciting another moan from her. It took Jayne several long blinks until she was able to open her eyes without her eyeballs feeling like they were going to explode.

"Happy birthday, Jaynie!" congratulated her grandmother as she continued to struggle in a war against sleep.

"Not yet," she complained. "In my world, my birthday doesn't start until at LEAST seven a.m." A weary-eyed glimpse at the digital clock beside her bed informed her that it was still merely 6:30 in the morning, and that clock was ten minutes fast (set like that purely by intention - it made Jayne panic on school mornings, urging her to get up and dressed quicker so she wasn't late for school; a habitual occurrence). In Jayne's books, it was way too early for anything.

A few months ago, Jayne would have happily gone for a late night stroll in the woods at four in the morning, but there was something about the colder months that made her feel more inclined to hibernate beneath her crispy duvet cover for much longer.

Jayne grabbed her pillow and, like she'd seen many people do before in films, buried her face in her mattress and pulled the puffy thing down over her head. She was only under there for a few seconds before her need for oxygen dragged her back up for a breath. Apparently, fictional characters didn't need to breathe.

Jayne knew Sue would be watching on in amusement, shaking her head at her granddaughter who continued to go against her ideas of being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the moment dawn cracked. But soon Jayne's stubbornness wore off as she realised that she was actually wide awake and could deny it no longer. She finally acquiesced with her fidgeting and peered up at her grandmother's face through matted tangles of green/blonde hair.

"Good morning, Jayne," Sue emphasised. "Your mother's awake. I had to practically pry the frying pan out of her hands to stop her making breakfast," she laughed, and Jayne, with sight guilt, smiled in the knowledge that this would be her first birthday that wouldn't be ruined by Helen's horrendous culinary, um, skills.

"Your friends will be here in forty minutes, so I suggest you'd better start getting ready if you don't want your boyfriend to see you like that." She gave Jayne a quick wink and left her to herself to get dressed.

Forty minutes? Why hadn't Sue woken her earlier? Plucking up energy out of nowhere, Jayne fled to the bathroom where she had the quickest shower she'd ever had and then managed, with only a couple of blunders, to perform the tremendous feat of drying her hair and applying her make-up at the same time. By then, she had just ten minutes to try and find something nice to wear (it wasn't easy - not when her entire wardrobe was comprised mainly of earthy-coloured, high-necked tops and numerous old jeans, which had all been permanently stained green from her many outdoor endeavours. She eventually settled for a flattering baby-doll top and a pair of lilac leggings) before she galloped down the stairs to greet the crowd of familiar faces that awaited her.

"Happy birthday!" they cried in chorus, however discordant, when Jayne opened the door into the brightly decked lounge, and a blur of brunette leapt into her arms, knocking her backwards with a strong whiff of citrus perfume, but Tara kept a tight clutch on her best friend, so much so that Jayne had to ask for air.