You'd think after gloating about landing an educational excursion at Adara Chemicals they'd have the decency to hire a bus that doesn't conspire to jailbreak my lunch from my stomach. Amy looks dangerously green as she clutches the seat in front of her and sways from one side to the other. Andrew sits in front of me with his head between his legs and I can understand.
When we are in the pretentiously posh lobby waiting for someone to come and collect us for the tour, we are given the moment to gather our bearings. Amy slumps rather unceremoniously on one of the white sofas before hugging her stomach and weakly asking the receptionist for the washrooms.
"Big push." Tristan encourages her
"It's nausea, Evans, not a child."
Andrew fares a little better.
"Good?" I manage nauseous
He opens his mouth and then visibly regrets it. He folds in on himself. "Ask me again in five minutes."
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'Too fucking early' AM finds me wandering into the office in joggers and a sweatshirt because if I'm walking into hell, I am going for the drowned rat who used to be a starving artist kind of look.
The meeting ended with something about highschoolers coming over for a tour being thrown at me distractedly.
Looking forward to my office couch, I stagger down the hallways not caring if I get shot by security. So what if I had lugged over some blankets and pillows from home. Needs must.
So I really wasn't ready for more unprecedented bullshit.
"Hey man. You don't happen to wanna help out a girl who is ready to throw up her lungs?"
The girl, I will find out, is called Amethyst White. Amy. And she, not for the first time, is sorely mistaken.
"Hello?" I blink blearily and rightfully confused. "And no. I do not want to help you."
She looks at me, aghast.
"Who raised you?" she asks and then clutches the wall. "Woah, this weirdly futuristic décor is tripping me out."
Hey, now I picked out the aesthetic. And I'm about to tell her exactly that when—
"Well my dude it's either the bathroom or your clothes." She retches a little and sways dizzily
I hurriedly help her to her feet and walk her to the nearest washroom. And that is the beginning of a long, unfathomably enlightening, justifiably soul-draining friendship.
YOU ARE READING
Growing Up and Other Tall Tales
RomanceSometimes the best love stories begin with, "Who the fuck are you?" *** Lyra Donovan has been through enough hell and then some; so she enjoys the more predictable things in life. A good cup of coffee, sunsets and the fact that she hates math. Love...
