Sweet cherry pie

Chapter 3

Author's note: hopefully this chapter is longer than the recent ones! ;-)

The first thing I do when I finally drift out of my peaceful, dreamless sleep is check my phone. It reads 3:36pm. I relize how hungry I am. I groggily groan as I climb out of bed. On the way to the kitchen, I stumble over a pile of clothes, bump into the wall twice, and trip over the plate I left earlier. After making myself some 2 minute beef noodles, I relize, with a sigh, that it has failed to relieve my hunger, so I heat up some leftover apple pie from the freezer. After stuffing my face with apple and cinnamon awesomeness, I go into the lounge and do some Wii fittness. I barely do 2 stretches, when I hear a loud knock at the door. I groan in annoyance. "What?!?" I shout as soon as I open the door. There, on the threshold, stands non other than Jackson Miller.

Jason Miller is tall, has Shaggy brown hair that's to die for, and sparkly emerald eyes. He is gorgeous and painfully perfect.
I cover my mouth in shock and awe, then return to my usual carefree demeanour. Jackson scratches the back of his neck, which he has no idea how much it makes my heart beat wildly in my chest. He starts to talk. "Um, you, you know the, um, prom...?" He asks me. I'm dumbstruck, and nodd even though I've never kept up to date with stubid things like that.
He continued talking, slightly nervous. "Um, do, do you have a, um, date?" He looks at me expectantly, and as I stare at him like I have been for the last 13 minutes, I relize he's expecting me to say something. Shit I think to myself. What was it that he said again? "Huh?" I question. He sighs sadly, and it brakes my heart into tiny little pieces. This is the first time I've ever let down my bad ass girl demeanour, and I'm actually wondering if its kinda better this way. Man, this boy is messing me up. "You probably get asked this lots, but if you, um, could give, um, me a chance? And, um, well..... Go, um, go with me, um, to the, um, p-r-o-m?" He says the last word slowly, like he's unsure. I am so shocked, its not even funny. It takes a while for the news to sink in. Him? Go to the prom with me? The consept of it blows my mind. My mouth hangs open for a while longer, and then I manage to reply, "sure?!?" Then I slam the door in his face.
Later on, I hear my mum pull into the drive. Come in and slam the door. Go to the loo. Heat up an instant meal. Go into her bedroom and slam the door. Typical weekday routine. I can't even remember what my own mother looks like. Is her hair black or brown? Or is it blonde? Maybe even red? I don't even know, and, quite frankly, I couldn't care less. I go to my èn suite and take a shower. After I shampoo and condition my Bright red ombre hair, I wash my body and face, then get out and wrap my body in a big, soft purple towel. I go into my room and slide into an over-sized tee that goes down to my knees, and fluffy socks, tie my hair in a messy bun, after blow-drying it, then I sigh as I can finally slide into bed. I check the things on my to-do list using my fingers. Eat: yes. Clean: yes. In bed: yes. I happily treat myself to some rocky road chocolate for being so organised. Usually I just go for a week without washing, in bed all day, gulping mountain dew by the litre, not even eating. After inhaling 3 rows of cadbury, I snuggle down, plug in my headphones, and fall asleep watching YouTube videos.
In the morning, I peel my headphones off and let them fall to the floor. Rubbing my eyes, I arise from my warm and cosy bed. I look out of my window. Sure enough, my mum's four-wheeled car has already left the lime-stained driveway. I struggle down the stairs, and into the kitchen. I tiredly grab some tuna pasta out of the fridge. Even though me and my mum never talk, we do have kind of a routine going on. One of us will cook breakfast each day, and save leftovers. Usually it's her, but I'm definitely not complaining. After gulping down 2 bowls of creamy pasta, I chuck my dishes in the already-fulled sink. I wonder what I'll do today. I check the calendar, remembering something. Oh fucken crap fuck. I mutter under my breath. The prom is in 1 week! One f*cken week to prepare myself for the most important day of my short life! I feel like pulling out my hair! Is this how people who date feel like? If it is, you can scratch me off that list. I watch a Vampire Diaries omnibus to take my mind off the fact that next Friday I'll be wearing a dress in public. Ugh. But in a weird way, I'm actually looking forward to having an excuse to wear makeup and jewellery. After my 3 hour PLL binge-watch, I decide to go to the mall. I shove some skinny jeans and converse, shrug on a checkered shirt, then sling a leather cross-body bag over my shoulder, containing my phone, a train card, house keys, and the measly 100 bucks that I got from my waitress job at the local diner. I scribble on a post it note, sticking it to the phone on the wall about my whereabouts. Just because I'm a rock chick/bad ass, doesn't mean that I can't put my mums mind at peace, even if she doesn't care. I slam the door on the way out, locking it. The leaves have been cleared by now, but the trees are still pretty, with their branches lightly scattered with a leaf here and there, the last survivers clinging on. The perfect moment for a photo. I take my phone out, regretting that I left my camera at home, before taking a couple of shots, then I carry on down the street towards the bus stop. After paying my fare to the snot-nosed driver, I make my way to the back of the pungent smelling bus.
12 minutes later, I arrive at my stop. Pulling my bag off of the musty seat and race to the front. Saluting to the bus driver, I jump off the steps, into the icy October air. Slinging my worn-out brown leather purse over my shoulder.