The Rhodes Method

fourteen

always an angel,
never a god
--- Not Strong Enough, boygenius

OCTAVIA RHODES

I wake up, disorientated, and completely out of it.

I tiredly grab my phone sitting on my bedside table, and my eyes have to adjust to the harsh screen light. My bedroom curtains are closed, but light sneaks into the room, so I estimate it is around eight in the morning.

I am right. Ten minutes past eight.

Everything from last night comes to me, then. Like a switch.

I remember my confession to Myles. My embarrassing, long, vulnerable confession about death. It is too early to be thinking about my misfortunes. I'd rather wait until later, maybe during classes, to replay, in excruciating detail, every drunk word spoken to my brother. My memories are usually pretty foggy the morning after, but for some goddamn reason, I remember a lot very well.

My eyes adjust to the time again.

Eight ten. Monday.

I almost fall out of bed in shock when I realise I have school today. Then I also remember that I do not care. But Vince has been up my ass about not missing class, so I know I have to rush to get there on time.

I throw on old sweatpants and a hockey hoodie, and I tie my hair up as I head into my bathroom to brush my teeth. My toothbrush hangs in my mouth as I apply concealer under my eyes to cover the evidence of my lack of sleep. Then I return to my room, almost slipping in the process. I absentmindedly throw a few books and a pen in my bag. I've forgotten what classes I have today. I'll have to check on the ride there.

After grabbing my phone and headphones, I stride into the kitchen. Vince is awake, sipping his coffee whilst he leans against the countertop. Myles is also awake. Shit.

Then I stop in my tracks. Myles is awake?

And he's eating breakfast?

The fuck.

Vince catches my eye. There is humour to his small smile. "Morning." Myles does not turn around. I stare at his back, utterly confused. No way he's awake for the sole purpose of ratting me out to Vince. Myles goes low, but he's never gone this low before.

"Breakfast?" Vince asks.

"I'm late," I reason. "Has Logan left yet?" He might've taken an early shift at the store.

Vince says instead, "I'm driving you."

I frown. "Why?"

"Eat, Octavia."

I sigh and sit down. Myles still hasn't looked up at me. He slowly eats his cereal bowl, and I am surprised to see that most of his food is done. My brother does not have much of an appetite these days.

Vince drops a bowl in front of me.

"I don't eat cereal," I explain. Low nutritional value. Well, the ones Logan buys anyway. He buys the sugary shit because Myles likes it, and because Damien is known to complain about everything. So do I, but Logan cares a little less.

"Too bad," Vince deadpans. He pours the milk after and hands me a spoon, an expected look on his face. I take it unwillingly.

"Juice?" Vince then asks.

"Can I have milk?"

"There's milk in your cereal, dumbass," Myles says, the first words he has said to me this morning. His voice sounds tired, and his hunched body, stiff shoulders, and drowsy words convince me that he hasn't had much sleep either. This confuses me.