Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Chapter Two

I woke up in my bed with something cold strapped to my face. For a moment I was completely lost and confused. "Sam?" I grunt as I up slowly. My right hand finds my head and I gently touch my jaw. "Sammy?" I call again, louder this time.

"Dean? Oh good, you're awake." A relieved voice sounds from the doorway. "I though you were dead"

"Can't get rid of me that easy.." I joke. "Come here, Sammy." I say as I take off the pack of ice. To my surprise, the vision in that eye was kind of blurry. But that didn't bother me as much as the tingling feeling in my jaw.

Sam comes over to me and sits next to me on the bed. "Yes?" his eyes train on me like a hawk.

"Your cheek..." I shake my head from side to side slightly. That bastard dad was definitely going to hell for this. He can beat me and hit me as much as he wants he knows that. He knows that I don't care as long as he doesn't lay so much as a finger on Sam.

"Dean, it's fine. Really. You're just overreacting as usual. It doesn't even hurt, see?" he presses an index finger against the slightly purple skin around the cut.

"Fine. What time is it anyway?" I watch him wearily. The room was dark, but not with just an absence of artificial light. It had the darkness that only night could provide, the darkness of a starless cold night.

He looks around the corner at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "Uhh, a little past 3:30 I think. You've also been out cold for two days, but that doesn't really matter now. There's school today, seeing as how it's Monday," He said solemnly. Sam looked tired, and sounded it too.

"Why don't you stay home today? Maybe get some rest. You had one hell of a night, Sammy. And I think that your teachers would understand if their top student would need to take at least one day off." I roll my eyes. He had straight As in every class, and almost never missed a day; he was basically the ideal student that every teacher would kill to have.

"I'll miss a day if you miss a day," he continues to stare at me with those big brown eyes. It really amazes me how his eyes are always in the form of puppy eyes. Even when he was pissed, or was trying to achieve a bitch face, his eyes never quite get the job done.

"Yeah, like that's ever going to happen. You know that I hate staying home because of John." I scoff at his suggestion.

He grumbled at this and stood back up. He straightened his shirt and then walks towards the door. "Looks like we'll be going to school today," he says with a shrug and then exits the room. With him gone, and me wide awake, the room seemed smaller and colder. The room was even darker; I had trouble seeing through the blackness. There wasn't even light coming through the slightly parted curtains that draped my window, so I knew that it must have been night. 'What time is it?' I wondered.

Morning came faster than i would have like. I must have fallen asleep because I don't remember seeing the blossom of the sun as it peeked over the city outlines. I stand up with a grunt, my joints strongly protesting any movement. With a yawn, I stretch my arms up into the air and throw my head back. I shuffle to the window to observe the light of the new day. The sunrise was a mixture of shades of pinks, blues, oranges, and purples; blended together like a fine oil painting. Of course, who could notice such things so early in the morning? My eyes droop with sleep as I slowly rose from my bed, allowing several pops to ripple through my sore back. When the door to my bedroom creaked open, a steady stream of light permeated the darkness around me and I could see Sam standing in the entrance.

"Morning," he says. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, you?" I answer curtly.

He replies, "Same, I guess."

We get ready quickly. I only change my pants from sweatpants to jeans because I didn't feel like spending a day in sweatpants. But I don't bother changing my shirt from the one I slept in. John had probably gone to the Roadhouse Bar because the car was gone from the driveway. "Sammy looks like we'll be walking today. That means that we should leave soon." I warn him. School starts at 8, which is in roughly an hour, so we had a good 30 minutes until we have to start heading over.

The 30 minutes passed faster than we had expected, but we were still ready when the time of departure came. We arrived at school in a record time of 20 minutes, leaving us with 10 extra minutes to hang out or do whatever. I chose to sit back and watch the students of various ages and grades mull around and talk, or kiss, or laugh. I look down at my flip phone, which was vibrating. There was a message from a number that I didn't recognize. "Huh" I murmur and flip the phone open. I'm greeted by the vibrant blue light of my background and then press a few buttons in order to open the message.

The message was blank. "What the hell?" I whisper to myself and then delete the blank text. I shrug it off and then slip the little silver flip phone into my leather jacket's pocket, where it was before. A sigh escapes from mouth as I pick up my backpack and sling it onto my shoulder. I stand up and then the first bell of the day rings, signifying that I had a total of 5 minutes to get to class before you were technically late.

Unlike most of my classes my first period room wasn't very far away, so I got there before most of the other juniors. English was the first class of my day; I hated English, there was too much reading; English was more of an area of strength for my brother. I sit back in my chair and stretch my legs out in front of my desk. I rest my head back and right off the desperate yearn of sleep. Luckily, we didn't have any homework last night, cause Lord knows I didn't do it. Mrs. Gallagher babbled on about the importance of compound and complex sentences. But it was obvious to the entire class that she was still tired from the weekend because her words slightly slurred. Mrs. G's power point malfunctioned and it was at this point that she gave up. She huffed in a long, drawn out sigh and then instructed us to take out our notebooks. I honestly don't think that she minded that half of the class was laying their heads on their desks, eyes shut and mouths open. But still, I persevered the tiredness and opened my notebook like she instructed us to. But that doesn't mean that I didn't zone out for the entire rest of the hour. What matters is that I did more than half the class did.

The rest of the day went by as just one big blur that mainly consisted of mindlessly doing what the teachers tell me to do. The hour before my homeroom was the only class that I was tentative in so far, which baffled me because I would have thought that the closer to seeing Mystery Kid I got, the more distracted I'd become. But that wasn't the case. The second to last hour was chemistry with Mr. Kristen. Today we were doing a lab that included mixing non-toxic chemicals together, the purpose was unknown to me. I honestly thought it was just for fun, and so did most of my fellow classmates.

I was cleaning up the chemicals at the time when the bell rang while the rest of the class filed into the hallway outside. My backpack was already to go, I just had to finish wiping off the table where my group and I conducted our bubbly experiment. Mr. Kristen doesn't bother me or pay me any attention, which was fine. As I was talking from the sink back to my table, I tossed my backpack over my shoulders and swiftly exited the room. Time for Homeroom.