• Photo above is how I picture Claudia •
Chapter 3
[ Kai Peterson's POV: ]
Rolling over in my bed, I slap the alarm clock repeatedly as it blares to life on my nightstand with some stupid and unnecessary tune that I honestly don't feel like dealing with this early in the morning.
I stare at the digits on my clock through hooded eyes and groan. I roll over on my back, staring up at the ceiling as I listen for any sound of life in the house. I then realized my Mom isn't supposed to get off of work until seven, so I was alone.
A yawn escapes past my lips as I'm tempted to say fuck it and just go back to sleep, but I have an exam today that I can't miss. I'm in my junior year of high school and I really wanted to graduate early and get out of this podunk Idaho town, located in the middle of nowhere.
With that thought in mind, I push the covers off the upper part of my body, so deeply wanting to just crawl back in them and sleep for the next couple of days, but I know that's not an option.
Mom would kill me, I think to myself. I then found myself nodding along to my own thoughts inside of my head.
Stepping into my en-suite bathroom, I twist the squeaky knob to allow the water to warm up just the way that I like it. I quickly brush my teeth and pull down my boxer briefs, tossing them carelessly into the very full, might I add, hamper before allowing the steaming hot water to rush over me, waking up all the bits and pieces of myself that are still tired.
As I'm lathering myself down with body wash, I start to think about how my bathroom nearly got destroyed yesterday by my best friend, Ash. I grin just thinking of her.
We've been friends since Kindergarten, practically glued to the hip ever since. When the other kids would pick on me and call me gay, Ashly was the first one to stand up to them and either punch them in the face on the playground or draw on their faces in permanent marker during what was supposed to be nap-time.
Let's just say, Ashly wasn't always the teachers favorite.
A chuckle escapes my lips as I think about the first time, in ninth grade, that one of the older boys called me a 'fag' and it took two teachers and our gym coach to pry her tiny little claws off of him.
He wore those literal scars all the way up until the time that he graduated. Last we heard, he joined some gang and took off for Texas and no ones heard from him since.
After all the soap had run off of my body and down into the drain, I turn the faucet off and step out. The cold, tiled floor below makes a shiver run through my body as I stand stark naked in the middle of my bathroom. I grab a used towel off of the rack, remembering that I forgot to do laundry when I was asked to — three times — and quickly tie it around my waist.
I walk back into my bedroom, heading for my closet. I grab a pair of black, ripped-at-the-knee jeans and a red t-shirt and a beanie, securing it on my head. I grab my phone, disconnecting it from the power chord, turn the lights out and head down the stairs.
Switching on my phone with my thumb, I notice the time is 7:00. Oh shit, I think, Ash should be pulling up any minute now...
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