Falling for the Stars.

Chapter 4: Step 2... Don't freak out.

Edited and revised.

"Kara!" My mom calls me from downstairs. Oh shoot, I know that tone. It means she wants me to do something productive.

"Yes mom?" I call back.

"Get to work hon. You've got a lot to do today."

I use all my willpower to hide the sigh in my voice, "Okay."

By "a lot of work" she means unpacking and school work.

It's Sunday afternoon and a week has passed since the detention. My mom and dad finally got over the fact that I got a detention on my second day, but I think she's still discreetly making me live it down. I've had to do extra dishes and unpack extra boxes, originally equally split between Dallas and me. I tried to explain to them what happened but they didn't want to hear a word of it. So I've been ranting to Dallas about the torment Zach is single-handedly putting me through. He tweeted about what happened the first day, and the buzz about the incident is finally dying down, minus the occasional snickering from some random kids as I pass by.

Reluctantly I roll off my bed and close The Fault in our Stars, being sure to stick my home made bookmark in there. It's not like I need to, I've read it inside out like 4 times. Putting it on my bedside table I groan at the cardboard boxes I've been conveniently avoiding for the past few days. You see, I don't procrastinate, it's just that small tasks take me forever and a half to complete. So, knowing this, I tend to avoid such things as long as possible. This tactic never works due to my mother's necessity for keeping things put away and in order.

I look over at the stack of binders on my otherwise bare desk. There's quite literally nothing there except the binders. No shelving, no art materials, except my pencil case, and drawing book. Even the walls are bare. They're that plain "just moved in" colour. As plain and boring as it is, it's full with so much potential.

I get to design my own room this time. It's exciting; I get a fresh start. My old room had stayed the same from when was a little girl and it was pink. Everything was pink. Don't get me wrong I like pink, I'm an artist, pink is awesome, but I felt like I was drowning in pink. I couldn't take it anymore. My parents agreed to allow me to design my room, they even let me, after much persuasion from my part, have an art wall.

Fantasies about my art wall are interrupted my phone vibrating, and I scramble over toward the wall where it's plugged in.

It's Shiloh.

--hey

--hiya

--we have physics homework right?

--yea

--so watchya doin'?

--unpacking, homework, the usual.

--sounds like fun lol, I'll let you get back to your work then... ttyl!

--see ya! :)

Shiloh and I are becoming increasingly good friends. She seems pretty easy to talk to so far.

While scrolling through Instagram, my phone shuts off so I turn it back in and almost do a double take at the time. It's 3:00...? You're kidding me. It's been an hour and I have done absolutely no work whatsoever. Where does this time go?

I can't decide what to do first so I flip a coin. I don't know why I even bother because if the coin chooses one thing I'll do the opposite.

Shoot, tails.

Homework it is.

___

It's Monday, my second week at LHS, but also the last week of March.