'Let life be an adventure. Live your life to the fullest, unfettered by fear of the ghosts and goblins of what might occur. Calamity and death happen as well to those who hide from life as to those who squeeze every drop of zest from it.'
| one |
I know the moment I wake up that it's gonna be a bad day.
''Indie, honey, wake up. You're gonna be late for school.'' Mom's cold hands are touching my bare shoulder and pulling the cozy warm blanket off of me.
I groan, turning over to my side, feeling the absence of warmth. ''I need a shower.''
''You're gonna be late,'' Mom repeats, her voice not so close now. I open my eyes slightly and see her waiting by the door for my reply. I shrug and she turns away, saying she's gonna turn the hot water on.
As I crawl out of bed, I curse myself for letting my phone – being my alarm for school – die. I plug it in to charge and I search in my wardrobe for something suitable for school and something clean. I pull a black skirt out and proceed to the bathroom.
I hate getting up early and I hate rushing around even more, so I also hate being late. Getting up early is okay if you wanna make the most of the day or if you have to go somewhere, but for me, nah. I prefer to sleep. And I do so whenever I get the chance.
''Indie...'' Mom calls as I'm about to shut the door. ''There's no hot water.''
And that is clue number two that it's gonna be a bad day. Number one was my mum waking me up and nearly being late for school.
Mentally, I punch the wall. Physically, I close my eyes and count to five, too impatient for ten. ''Okay, I'll sort it out when I get back from school.''
Mom nods and goes back downstairs to make breakfast and I go back to my room, my pajama bottoms dragging along the floor, too long for me. ''Shithole.''
I pull on the black skirt (it's not even that okay for school, because I mean, a skirt, for school?) and a grey off-the-shoulder t-shirt, glancing around my room. When I get back, I'll tidy my room as well, I don't like standing on clothes. As I leave my room, I grab my book bag and slip my feet into my silver glittery VANS.
By the time I get downstairs for breakfast, hair in a ponytail, fringe loose and clean, bag on my shoulder, keys in my hand, I have five minutes till I have to leave.
''Isn't that skirt a little too short?'' Mom asks me, an eyebrow raised.
''It was the only thing clean,'' I reply, yawning. Damn school for starting so early. Seven forty is way too early for me. But that's school I guess. Looking at the clock, I notice I have ten minutes to get there. Mom purses her lips and says nothing. She's too busy; she can't clean and cook and do everything else all the time. I grab a slice of toast and wave to her as I walk out of the front door and climb into my car. Being seventeen in Vincennes, Indiana, has its perks.
I drive to Harley Street, where I pick up my best friend, Bumper. His real name isn't Bumper obviously. We call him that because apart from being a bit of a klutz, he gets angry with stupid little things. I don't really know why we started calling him that or when, but it stuck.
I get to his house and I slam my forehead down on the horn of my Mini (it's secondhand and black and sometimes has a bit of engine trouble but it's okay) and continue till Bumper climbs into my car.
''So. Tired.'' I complain, pulling my head up and looking at him. He seems as tired as I am and nods, not saying anything.
''Dick,'' I insult him, feeling a grin tugging at my lips.
