Existentially Fraught - #Wattys2015

Rules Made to Break

I've always hated Sundays.

Mom wakes up at ungodly (pun not intended) of the morning to prepare for and attend church on the other side of Rumford. Worse, though, is that she also rouses Loric and me to invite us along- even though our answers haven't changed since we turned ten.

Of course, I could roll over and just go back to sleep, and some days I did, but that particular night I'd really had to drug myself to fall asleep, and once I was up there was no way in hell I was going to be able to fall asleep again.

Once my door creaked shut behind Mom, I flipped over onto my stomach and slid my phone across my pillow. No new messages, not even from the pizza guy. I sent a quick text to Jamie and tried not to check my notifications every five minutes, but I could barely get through a twelfth of an episode of Doctor Who before I was swiping my screen and worrying about why Jamie hadn't responded yet.

I spent my entire day like that, eating dinner and attempting to write my essay and watching a movie with Loric with my cell right by my elbow. Dad joked that I was waiting for an update on a steamy fanfiction, which made everyone a little uncomfortable but got the point across: I put my phone away in my bedroom until it was time to shower and take my medication.

Jamie never texted me.

...

My alarm didn't go off Monday morning, so instead of a nice X Ambassadors song, I woke up to Mom's frantic hollering through my door. "Amara Bennett, you get your tush out of bed right now! It's nearly seven and you're going to miss the fricking bus!"

Loric poked his head in, grinning so broadly I could see it even without my glasses on. "Mom said fricking, sis, you'd better get moving."

I threw my pillow at him but he closed my door half a moment before the cushion hit it and fell to the ground. I scrambled out of bed and almost busted my face on my bedside table as I yanked on jeans (I was pretty sure they were clean, though they were sitting at the bottom of my wardrobe so there was no telling). I didn't even bother glancing in the mirror as I yanked my hair back into a ponytail and hurried down the stairs. Mom stopped me half a moment before I ran out the door; she didn't say anything, just handed me a Poptart and kissed me on the cheek.

I was halfway down the driveway before I noticed the car sitting at the curb. Jamie leaned against the driver's side door, smirking in a way that made me want to kiss or kill him. I huffed, annoyed.

"So, you ignore me for an entire fucking day, then show up at my house?" I stopped a couple feet in front of him. Unease flickered across his face for a moment, then it smoothed and he smiled innocently.

"I was busy. Want a ride?"

"No."

"Yeah you do."

"I do not."

Jamie sighed, his smile fading. "Stop being a fucktard and get in the car, Mystery Girl."

"No." I crossed my arms. "You can't make me do a damn thing, Jamie."

"Oh, but can't I?"

"No."

He lurched towards me and I went from standing on the grass to slung over his shoulder. My backpack slid off, dropping onto the ground with a worrying thud. Jamie ignored my strained protests and carried me around the car, depositing me haphazardly into the passenger seat. He pulled the seatbelt across my torso and buckled me in before I had a chance to escape. My door shut, his opened and closed, and my backpack landed heavily on my lap.

Jamie grinned at me. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I flicked him off.

...