Off The Deep End (On Hold)

Chapter One

One-

My alarm clock went off a half hour later than I wanted it to so I had about five minutes tops to get ready. I threw my covers off and  ran to my closet. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a dark blue sweater, I ran to my bathroom. As I’m putting on my makeup, my brother, Pierre, pounded on the door.

“What?!” I yell. He forces the door open and walked passed me to the cabinet above the toilet. He digs around in there for a few moments until he asks,

“Where’s the Tylenol?”

I shrug. “Mom has it in her bathroom.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Pierre asks bitterly before he leaves the bathroom.

I nod. “Yeah, I woke up late.” Shit, I’d better get going. I throw my makeup into the drawer and run down the stairs. Then, I shove my feet into my shoes, grabbing my backpack as well as the keys to my car, and head out the front door.

It’s a fifteen minute drive to school so, by the time I get there, find a parking spot, run to my locker and get to my first class, I’m late. I’m full out running to my first hour history class when the bell rings. Giving up all hope, I halt to a slow walk in the middle of the empty hallway. I mean, I’m already late; what’s the point in rushing for nothing but the same consequences? I get to the classroom and open the door awkwardly. Twenty-three pairs of eyes fall on me; including my teacher, Mr. Hawkins. He asks if I have a late pass and I mumble no, shuffling to my seat in the back of the classroom. I hear someone snicker and look up to see Jessica Kate and her friend Izzy Clare looking at me. I bury my face in my textbook and count the minutes until class is over.

The first half of the day goes by in slow motion. At lunch, my friend, Georgia, meets me at my locker and we head to the cafeteria. By the time we get there the lines are long and we conclude there wouldn’t be anything good left by the time we got to the front of the line, so Georgia pulls out her cell phone and calls someone. We make our way outside as we talk and sit on one of the benches since the tables were all taken.

She hangs up her phone and says, “Okay, my brother will be here in ten minutes with our lunch.”

“You called your brother? Georgia, we could’ve just taken my car and gone to McDonald’s or Starbucks or something. You didn’t have to call your brother,” I say, exasperated. Georgia shrugs and starts typing away on her phone. I found myself wondering why I even became friends with her in the first place. It’s kind of like talking to a brick wall: she doesn’t listen.

“Georgia!” A guy gets out of an old Plymouth and walks up to us holding out a take-out bag. This is Blayne, Georgia’s older brother. He is the same age as Pierre. I’ve always kind of had a thing for him without Georgia’s knowledge. I mean, he’s like perfectly gorgeous. He has dark, short brown hair, he’s very tan, and he wears a Nirvana t-shirt with baggy, khaki shorts with a snap back hat. I watch as he swings his lanyard with keys and key chains on it as he walks over with the take-out bag, grabbing at his aviators to put them on top of the beak of his hat.

“Thanks,” Georgia says to him, taking the bag from him. It’s Taco Bell. I love Taco Bell, so I guess I’m kind of happy for her brick-wall personality this time. Plus, I wouldn’t have gotten to see Blayne.

“Yeah,” he says. “Well don’t expect this to be a regular thing, okay? ‘Cause I’m not this nice all the time.” He winks at me and I practically melt. “‘Sup Evie?” He bites his lip as he nods his head at me.

“N-nothing,” I stutter and feel my face get hot.

He laughs a bit and fixes his hat so the beak of it points to the sky. “I’m digging your new haircut. It’s way shorter than I remember.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It’s really short.”

“Yeah,” he looks at me for a minute and I look at the ground, not able to keep eye contact with him. It’s really short? Duh! What was I thinking? Way to not be awkward about it. “Well I’d better get going.”

“Why?” asks Georgia. “It’s not like you have a job to go to.”

“Shut up,” he warns her, dead serious. He always was kind of mean, especially to Georgia. It’s like he has this switch inside of him. It can get flipped in the matter of seconds and Georgia knows exactly how to flip it.

“Just saying,” she puts her hands up in a surrender position.

As if he knew how to flip the switch back off, he suddenly changes his stance and tone, saying, “See ya.” He winks at me one last time, biting his lower lip in the process and looks me over. I get a shiver up my spine and then snap out of it when Georgia nudges me a bit.

“Let’s eat,” she says before tugging me back over to the bench we had been sitting on earlier. I watched as Blayne pulled out of the parking lot. As if he had felt my gaze, I saw him turn his head in our direction and I could have sworn he winked at me again, smiling. Then, he was gone.

“So what’s the deal with your brother?” I ask Georgia once we are done eating our delicious tacos that Blayne bought us. He knows exactly what I like because Georgia and I have been best friends for so long. Him and Pierre used to be best friends, but they got into a lot of trouble together in high school, so they don’t really talk anymore.

“He just can’t find a job,” she explains. “Or he loses it all too fast because of unexpected drug or alcohol tests.”

“Oh,” I say. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” she says. “But if he’d quit doing it, he wouldn’t have this issue. He’s so stupid sometimes.”

“Yeah. Pierre is the same way. He doesn’t take any responsibility for anything,” I say.

“Oh well,” she shrugs. “We can’t make decisions for them.”

“Now you sound like my mom.” We both laugh. My mom used to always say that to my dad after Pierre would come home drunk or even when he was sober and they would fight. It was terrible, but she always said the same thing afterwards. I don’t think Pierre ever knew I had heard or remembered any of it. He probably thought I was too young, but I wasn’t.