darling you'll be okay

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I hate mornings. Technically it isn't morning; it's 3 pm, but I just hate them. I like how persistent and dedicated my alarm is even after all these years it's been trying to wake me up (and failing every time). The feeling of last night still lingers in my subconscious. It felt so real but so fake, like a really cheesy nightmare.

"MOM", i yell out, "MOM?" No answer. She's probably gone to one of her stupid social clubs. Funny thing is she constantly complains about the people and the venues but never fails to attend each meeting, punctually. I stuff my feet in my fuzzy, bunny slippers and drag myself to the bathroom.

I look hideous. My fringe decided to stand up like a boner and my half-filled bra had risen to my collar bones. I do not have tits. I have mosquito bites. Grudgingly, I begin my regular bathroom routine; strip, shower while I brush my teeth simultaneously (it saves water for the thirsty African kids), pee, deodorize, tame the mane, straighten hair, apply eyeliner and put on some underwear and clothes.

My closet is a jamboree of things, I even have my third grade cheer leading outfit. I went through a phase, okay. There are lots of t-shirts; some are mine, some aren't (Vic's since he sleeps over regularly), skinny jeans and beat up sneakers. Today, I chose my Kiss shirt with Gene Simmons lizard-like, long, pink tongue unraveling down my stomach, my faded, distressed jeans and a pair of white Vans.

I kick aside the huge mess I've accumulated while picking out my outfit for the day and force my closet close. I grab my laptop and head downstairs for a really late breakfast. I check the fridge. There is still some OJ left in the carton and a egg sandwich in the fridge, so that will have to do. I set up my workstation on the wooden counter top and begin the day, Tumblr.

I'm pretty proud of my theme and the number of followers I currently have (798, peasants). Making my way down the pictures that were repetitions of yesterday of Beau Bokan, Jeremy McKinnon and Hayley Williams, I come to a conclusion. Tumblr is pretty much dead right now. Open new tab, Twitter. Jaime made no haste and uploaded oodles of photos from the gig. Backstage, sound check, lights, after-show, the crowd of girls. I scroll deeper and deeper down till I am face to face with the harsh reality of last night. Vic side by side with a blond, sticky-up nosed girl I saw last night. It wasn't a nightmare.

I cup my forehead and sweep my fringe back and close the tab. "What the fuck?" I say. I want to scream. Will nothing turn out right for me, just once? I check the big clock in the kitchen; 3:40. Frantically, I consume my sandwich and gulp down the juice, reach for the keys and my bag. I know where I'm supposed to be. Band practice at Tony's today.

I rush out the door and walk two blocks down and make a left. Tony's parents are kind of absent most of the time, so we can work there for the whole day, even a weekend sometimes. The garage door is open so I know everybody's there.

"Deep breathe, pretend you didn't see anything last night." I walk into the garage, closing the door behind me, into the kitchen and down the stairs into the basement. The basement used to be the Perry's game room but nobody uses it so we hauled the pool tables and three couches up the attic and fitted the music equipment and a couple of bean bags there instead. Walking down the stairway, I could hear the faint drum beats and celebratory shouts.

"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late. Couldn't get up this morning"

Jaime leaps into the air and does a split touchdown, "I COULDN'T SLEEP. LAST NIGHT WAS AMAZING!"

Tony sprawled on an old red beanbag with his cap over his face, "I couldn't sleep for a while. Had to um, entertain some admirers."

Jaime swipes his cap off his face and does a cartwheel. Mike gets out from behind the drum set and sits on Tony. Tony winces.