The Everblooming Flower [Book One of The Dreamers Series]

Chapter Nine

When I woke up, I sucked in a gasp, looking at the giant blood stain on my shorts. I had intentionally stabbed myself in the thigh, knowing it wasn't fatal and also that I could easily play it off as period blood. Gross, but a necessary lie to find the truth. That wasn't, intentional.

I sighed and got up, wracking my groggy brain to tell me whether it was Friday or Saturday. In the end I came up with Saturday. So, I got changed into some everyday clothes, making sure I wore enough black on the lower half for my whole story about the pyjama shorts to be convincing. I was used to making up stories. I had done it enough whenever I was grounded.

I could remember I had one time snuck out to talk with Triston and Addison. Like I said, we were inseparable. The story I told when Mum and Dad asked had actually been convincing enough to make them confident, I hadn't left the house. It didn't always work though. There were a lot of times when there was just one or two things I hadn't accounted for, and they figured it out and my grounding was lengthened.

Although I hadn't been getting grounded as much in January as I was used to. Mum was letting things go a lot easier and it seemed like she was beginning to understand that there was always a reason I got into fights. Didn't last that long though. Ended when they disappeared.

Depressing thought aside, I put my pyjamas into a bucket, filled with soapy water and left it there so that I could get on with a day of zero plans. Yep, a teenage girl with nothing to do on the weekend. Unheard of.

I was getting back into the swing of things, beginning to fall into old patterns. So, when I went into the kitchen, I went looking for some eggs and veggies. Omelette day.

I used to make breakfast whenever I could and sometimes, I'd make enough to share. I was the only one up and feeling generous that day so, I grabbed enough eggs and cheese for four omelettes. While those were cooking, I chopped up some tomatoes, spinach, and onion. Yes, I put onion on my omelettes. Sue me.

As I plated the omelettes, I heard a loud yawn and turned to see Samara outside of her usual well-dressed clothes. Her hair was flying out of a bun, falling loose on her head, her fluffy dressing gown was open and revealed her singlet and baggy pants. I also managed to get a peek of koala slippers as the scratched against the floor, making an unpleasant sound.

"Morning Flo," Samara smiled sleepily and looked at what I was doing. "You don't have to you know. I'm happy to make omelettes if you ask."

I smiled at her. "It's fine," I took the plate and went towards the dining table, "I used to make breakfast – usually only for myself – a lot and I'm just getting back into routine."

Samara nodded. "Well, you know," she placed an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me towards her, "getting back to old routines can be a good thing. But don't be afraid to fall a little out of line and get help. I know Terra wasn't all that good in that department."

I gave a sad smile at the memory of how many times I had gone to her for help or advice. She'd usually waved me off and told me she didn't have time. I could remember one time I had asked Mum for help on an assignment for people who inspire me. I had chosen her and Dad because they were lawyers and had put countless criminals in jail for their wrongdoings. She'd told me she'd help later and never did. I'd ended up quickly writing it the night before about doctors and nurses instead. Didn't get terribly high marks and I'd cried as soon as I found out I did bad.

Mum and Dad never found out about the assignment because I was too embarrassed by how low the mark was to tell them. And I was scared of getting grounded for leaving it to the last minute because it was my homework, my responsibility and therefore, my fault. Jade had known about it though, and she loved to rub it in my face. Saying stuff about how she was by far the favourite kid. She'd love shoving Mum and Dad's love for her in my face whenever she could.