Straighter than Parallel Parking

≈ t w e n t y - f i v e ≈

{ Chapter Twenty Five: When the Beast Doesn't Have Enough Beauty Sleep }

JANICE RECEIVES A TEXT MESSAGE AT 3 AM IN THE MORNING and is five milliseconds away from throwing her Nokia at the wall for good measure because it is, and let me emphasize, three AM in the bloody morning (plus, it's a Nokia; there isn't any real danger). 

Deciding against it, she slaps an outstretched hand onto the bedside drawer, wondering who would be up so early, because, let's face it—unless you're Logan Lerman, she'll block your number.

After another thirty seconds of insistent beeping without any means of stopping, Janice drags herself out of bed to write down the phone number so she knows who'll be on the top of her hit list.

26 unread messages, blinks on her Nokia monitor. 

Janice scrunches her eyebrows down her forehead, wondering why Kori's name kept flashing across her scene periodically, almost to the point that it's alarming.

Janice quickly calls back the number, rubbing her sleepy eye. Her concern grows as the phone dials in long stretch.

What the hell, did you die or something in ten seconds? Janice wonders incredulously, her worry giving way to irritation. If you don't pick up, Kori, you will be, fumes Janice.

Janice taps the floor with her feet unsteadily, trying to think of why the freshman was trying to contact her so early in the morning. They might be close, but they'd never expressed their friendship to the point where they would leave a dozen or more missed calls.

Why isn't she picking up? Janice starts pacing the area of her room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness and thankful for the fact that being in the basement allowed her to have enough privacy where if she bumped into a dresser, tripped and screamed, no one would likely hear her.

Really would suck if she ever got robbed, though.

"Hello?" 

A voice from the speaker breaking her chain of thought, and Janice exhales quietly. "Kori?"

"J-Janice?"

"Yeah," Janice affirms, "what's wrong? Is something wrong? Of course there's something wrong, you called me before the sun came up. FYI, don't do that often. What's wrong?"

"I," Kori audibly swallows, and Janice furrows her brow. "I shouldn't be on the phone right now, but I really, really need someone and no one else is picking up. I'm sorry, but—God, please don't hate me—"

"Kori, I like people when they actually know how to use their lungs," Janice tries to lighten the mood with humour, but it sounds tight, even to her own ears. "Okay, tell me after I get there. Wait, do you want me to come over?"

"That's why I called you," Kori says, "I know I'm being extremely bothersome but I need you to come to this place I'm at right now and I-I—I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing. I'm not a gorgeous, rich African American named Oprah, I don't want them. Just give me your address and I'll pick you up."

Janice hears a voice in her head telling her that sneaking out is going to be difficult, considering she doesn't have a car or a driver's licence (though she can drive. Kind of).

I can use the bent up car parked out, Janice conspires, momentarily blanking out. It's still rusty and her dad wouldn't be that pissed off. Just a lot pissed. But not that a lot.

"—Janice?"

"Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that?"

"I need to make this fast. I'm some big crap—I should've known before I came." Kori says to herself bitterly. "I'm at 23 McCowan on Bloorvard. You know Sheppard center? Right behind it. Please, make it fast."