Porcelain Skin (NOW ON AMAZON KU)

16. You're a Hideous Sleeper

It's Thursday and I've got Psychology this morning, but I can't bring myself to leave my bed. Call me a coward, but I'm just not prepared to face Trevor yet. After my private meltdown yesterday, I returned home feeling strangely invigorated. Music is my band-aid; it helps seal in the pain. The wound still hurts, but it's no longer bleeding profusely.

I roll over to check the time and realize, with a sigh of relief, that I've already missed the opportunity to convince myself that I need to go to class. Seeing as how it started four minutes ago, I don't have the time to get ready and make the walk across campus without being glaringly late.

I run my hands down my face. The hum from last night's violin session has faded from my veins, the same way alcohol gradually evaporates from your blood. I'm feeling the burn of Trevor's words all over again. What had I missed? Were my feelings for him so deep that they blinded me to how he truly felt?

I couldn't help but feel like I'd been played. Like he'd done this on purpose just to bury the dagger in a little deeper. Why not just dig a hole and bury me in it? It'd be less painful, much quicker, and a whole lot less of a mess for him.

I groan and roll onto my stomach just as someone bursts through the door. I don't move, hoping they'll think I'm sleeping and leave me alone. No such luck.

I feel a presence on my bed as it dips dramatically with their body weight. They're not gentle about it either. From the way it's rocking back and forth, I'd think they had just launched themselves onto my mattress. And then I feel them poking my butt. Well, that eliminates Trevor as an option. I guess he hasn't come to check on me, apologize profusely, and confess his love. The poking gets progressively more intense. I'm gonna have a bruised butt cheek for sure. I still don't move. It's possible they'll think I'm a really deep sleeper.

"You're not sleeping." I hear the unmistakable pitch of Mercy's voice hovering above me.

I moan dramatically before lifting my head and twisting my body to look at her evilly. She's standing above me on my bed, using her toe as a poker.

"What?" I mumble as I thrust my face back into my pillow.

"Up up up!" she demands, emphasizing her words with her toe in my butt cheek.

"I will break all your toes off, tie string around them and hang them above your bed with your stupid butterflies if you don't leave me alone," I warn, but it lacks any heat. I'm too drained to appear threatening.

I'm surprised when she laughs and then flops herself down next to me in bed where she proceeds to sing. Her voice could be decent if it didn't sound like she'd just swallowed sandpaper, and then upchucked it just to rub it against my eardrums.

In other words, it's horribly painful to listen to.

"Nooooo!" I bellow, but the cry is lost in my pillow. I pull it over my head, hoping to mute the sound, but it's hopeless.

I finally give up, flinging my body around with a 'harrumph' and crossing my arms over my chest. I watch her for awhile, my face void of any emotion, while internally I'm actually enjoying the show. She's got her feet pointed straight up in the air doing bicycle movements to the rhythm of whatever she's attempting to sing. She's in her own little world for about a whole minute before she realizes she's gained my attention.

"Oh, it worked," she says, but she doesn't sound surprised. She throws her body off the bed landing on all fours before jumping to her feet. "Get up," she demands again.

"Why?" I ask cautiously.

"'Cuz, I heard all about your little event yesterday and this," she says pointing her finger at me in disgust, "is not okay."