And Life Goes On

Knit Jumper (10)

Jenna's P.O.V
       Sean walks into my room and switches on the light at about ten in the evening according to the clock on the table. I'm lying in my bed with my eyes closed, trying to sleep and I'm wearing the cotton pyjamas I found in the wardrobe; they're a simple pale pink and have no shape to them what so ever, so when he comes in, I immediately feel self-conscious. Sean chuckles at me, which means I'm probably blushing. I don't get this guy, one minute he hates me, then he's apologising, then he's angry at me for going in his room, and now he finds me funny?
"So Matt called." He starts, leaning against the door frame. I sit up in bed.
"And?" I say, impatiently.
"And he said the Frontrunners want to see you tomorrow at nine thirty."
"When everyone is going to work?"
"Yes." He states, with a hint of sympathy in his voice.
"So you're not coming?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate.
"They wouldn't let me anyway. But I'll meet you after." somehow, that doesn't reassure me at all.
"You can take time off work?" I raise an eyebrow and Sean walks over and sits on the end of my bed, his hand inches from my leg.
"I know enough people,Jenna. You should sleep." He says cockily. I exhale loudly and nod a little to indicate that I know he's right. 
"Yeah, night."
"Night." He heads towards the door, but i stop him.
"Sean?" he pauses and turns around to look at me. I feel like a little child.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you." He just nods, turns the light off, and leaves. I close my eyes and try to get to sleep, but all I can think of is that the last time I closed my eyes, my whole world crumbled. I sigh and look around the room, searching for something to occupy myself. I get out of bed and turn on the light, opening all the draws in the vanity desk and studying the bookcase. I never really slept much before, and I don't really feel the need now either. Maybe I can stay up for a few hours before I need to sleep.

The bookcase is a blue colour and is completely empty. It has five small shelves and some of the paint work is chipped. I guess Sky is like a massive hotel for souls who are waiting to move into their new home, so everything has been used before, and will continue to be used for thousands more decades to come. I run my fingers over the edge of the wood, thinking about how many people must have kept their things on these shelves.
Suddenly, I feel a rise in the paintwork. I look down and find a small square engraved into the oak. "What the hell?" I whisper to myself, kneeling down on the floor to look at the square. I run my fingers over it again, and when I get to the top, I realise it must be hollow. Using my finger nails, I try to pry it open, but it won't budge. "Come on..." I slam the bookcase in frustration and something makes a noise. I look up at the square and see a small keyhole has appeared... but where's the key?
I stay up about half an hour, just staring at the keyhole. I must be about a centimetre long, so the key must be really small. Eventually, I give up and crawl into bed, thinking about what the bookcase must hold, and finally falling to sleep.

"Jenna." a smooth voice causes my brain to wake up... kind of.

"Five more minutes..." I mutter.

"Jenna." Okay, this person is not gonna give up.

"Ugh." I roll over and open my eyes, finding Sean's blue eyes close to my head. I gasp in surprise, feeling a moment of de ja vu. I can't believe it was only yesterday I drowned.
"It's nine, sweetheart." Sean called me 'sweetheart' when we first met, that's what he probably calls every girl he meets. But I can't help how my heart skips when he says it.
Then I process what he said. I only have half an hour to get ready. Damn... I jump up and look around for something to wear.
"I asked Lauren for some clothes, since you only have a bikini and T-shirt. Here." he hands me a small pile of clothes and I take them gratefully, running into the bathroom to get changed. Despite my hate for Lauren, I have to say, she has a great taste in clothes. I have a denim mini skirt with a pair of black tights, Uggs, and a black vest top to go under the dark pink off-shoulder knit jumper. I put them on, splash my face with water, run out the bathroom and run the brush through my hair.
"Do I look okay?" I ask Sean when I'm done.
"Is that skirt slightly short?"
"It's a mini." I state bluntly.
"Ok... let's go then." I sigh and follow him out the door. We walk for a couple of minutes, and then a question springs to mind.
"Sean?"
"Mhmm?"
"In my room, there were pink pyjamas, a hairbrush and the walls were cream. How'd they know I was a girl if I was sent here because there wasn't a place for me in Heaven yet?"
"They knew you were coming, Jenna. It was fate. Like, you were meant to live longer, but you have freewill, so He couldn't stop you." I guess that makes sense. Sean stops at a large building that seems to go on for at least a mile. "So this is what everyone calls 'the Front'. You go in there, tell the lady at the desk your name, and she'll tell you what to do."
"Okay." I say, taking a hesitant step forward.
"Oh, and Jenna? Don't shout back. Never shout back." This scares me a little, so I just nod and walk through the doors.

The interior of the room is beautiful. The walls are brick and there are a couple of framed pictures dotted around the walls. In front of me is a detailed square desk with a middle aged old women sitting behind it.
"Name?" she asks, without looking up.
"Jenna Thatcher." She types something into the computer and gives a sigh, before pointing to a narrow hallway.
"Down there, first left. Then the second door on your right."
"Thank you." I say, before heading in that direction. I reach a black door and knock twice. Someone inside yells 'Enter.' So I walk in. I see a room full of people sitting around a big round table. There is one empty seat that seems to be secluded from everyone else. Everyone sitting at the table is wearing dark suits, and is sitting completely straight. "Uh, I'm Jenna Thatcher?"
"Sit." One man with a black tie states, and points to the empty seat. All eyes are on me as I perch myself on the edge of the hard wood chair. Suddenly, I'm regretting Lauren's outfit choice with the bright sweater. The lady opposite me looks at a clipboard.
"So you have a problem with your job?"
"Yes, apparently it doesn't exist." I tell them sarcastically.
"Soul collectors are rare, I'll give you that." the lady replies, ignoring the previous ignorance in my voice.
"Soul collector?!" a short guy to my right half yells.
"Frank, check your papers!" he shuffles some typed papers around, and nods for us to continue.
"So," the man in the black tie says, "what do we do?"
And then everyone starts shouting arguments at once.