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GOLD RUSH ✹ TWO (JESUS STELLS- )
IT WAS FOUR IN THE AFTERNOON IN LONDON. But it was eight in the morning in New York, as I pulled myself out of bed after a long sleepless night, the party was weird. A awkward tension that fixated between everyone — so I stuck beside an equally as confused Olivia until my mum decided to call it a night and permitted us to go home.
I sit in the kitchen half asleep in my bowl of yoghurt as Sloan continues to pester me with questions about my travels that it was too early to even let my brain comprehend an answer to.
Sloan hasn't spent a year in a different time period, it's obvious she doesn't know how it feels to be awake at a time you're so use to being asleep at . So the grunts she gives me as I tell her to shut up (lovingly) for the eleventh time this morning are not justified.
Our mother fawns over us, professing how much she adores having her children in the same house again. I mention our older brother James who is currently helping our dad move back into his new townhouse a block or two away, she disregards me and hums a
'oh you know what I mean'.
I hate uniforms, at least back here I'm not stuck in them for the majority of the day and I can style them how I like — hence why my knitted jumper is tied and the arms wrap around my shoulders and fall onto my chest, almost like a superhero's cape and why half of my white shirt is untucked and falling over the material of my pleated skirt. It's why I actually looked good for once.
Sloan is still dressed as the school expects us to, but I can see small changes that are most likely influenced by either me or my mom in her outfit. Her blazer is decorated with small pearls over the edges. Her shoes are shiny new Prada Mary janes. She looks like a miniature me, and I can't help but smile when I notice it.
When the times comes that the car that picks us up for school arrives. I quickly swill my mouth out with mouthwash and touch up my makeup, Sloan waits impatiently at the end of the corridor.
" hurry up, we'll be late!" she beckons me with that whiny voice of hers when it comes down to being on time.
I grab my bag and feel the heels of my shoes click on the wooden floorings of the ground floor of the house " coming, I'm coming!"
" bye mom!" I call out, knowing she is most likely still getting ready for work. I let Sloan out in front of me, closing the door before the dreaded words leave her mouth before I even turn around.
" oh hey Nate." I despise how much my sister adores the ground Nate Archibald walks on even before I left ( however back then it was endearing) — it now makes the whole ignoring his existence thing so much more difficult.
