Castaways || Michael Clifford [Completed]

Chapter Five

Tuesdays. The dreadful sequel to Monday. Just as painful and horrific as the previous day. Still hoping that you'll get a call that the school has burned down and there's no school until you can relocate it.

I push myself out of bed. I shift my weight from foot to foot as I decided what to wear today. Only one day a week do I allow myself to wear sweatpants so instead I throw on a pair of jeggings, high tops and a Dauntless t shirt. Then I take ten minutes to French braid my hair and hop down the stairs.

No kidding, I literally hop.

My mom is already sitting at the kitchen table, a book and coffee in front of her. My dad is at the stove making bacon. I don't know how I couldn't smell it earlier. I would've came down earlier.

"Good morning sunshine," my dad says. He puts all the bacon onto a plate and sets it on the counter. I steal a piece and walk to the cupboard holding the cups.

"Mornin'," I say. I don't say good morning because there literally is nothing good about waking up at six am.

"Hope you don't mind I told your dad about the Michael thing," my mom says, not looking up from her book. I'm not sure which one she's reading this time. Last time it was The Notebook. I think at least.

"Nah," I say. My dad would've found out eventually anyways.

"I want to meet him before you two go anywhere," my dad says. I roll my eyes and suppress a groan. Dads, am I right?

"Don't interrogate him then. I don't even know what's going on for sure," I say.

"Fine. I'll just give him a questionnaire and he can return it next time I see him," my dad says in his usual joking tone.

"Ha ha ha, very funny," I say sarcastically. I put a Keurig thing in the machine and close it. I press start and it starts making the cappuccino.

"You're not gonna be allowed to go with that sarcasm missy," my dad says.

"Got to go," I say, grabbing my cup once it's done and putting a lid on it. I give both of them a hug and rush to the living to grab my book bag and keys. After slinging the book bag over my shoulder, I walk out the front door.

The drive to school was as boring as it usually is. The walk to the front doors of school was unbearable. Everyone kept staring at me and I was starting to feel really insecure. Instead of looking nervous, like I feel, I walk into school with my eyes straight ahead and head up. There was a group of girls beside my locker staring at me. Great.

"If you want to continue to gaze upon me, take a freaking picture," I say and swing my locker open.

"Now why would we do that?" one of them asks.

I slam my locker shut so hard the sound almost echoes. "Hmmmm, maybe 'cause you're staring at me? If you don't want to see this ugly face I suggest you look away now. Got that?" I say harshly.

"Whatever," they all mumble and walk away.

"Good riddance," I say under my breath and make my way to chemistry. Michael is sitting in his usual seat, playing on his phone. I plop down in my seat that's a row away and three seats ahead.

I dig in my bag for my book that I'm reading, Looking For Alaska. I pull it out and I open it to the page I left off on and start reading. As I'm reading, my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and unlock it. There's a text from Michael.

Michael: What's wrong?

Me: Oh nothing. People just keep staring at me and it's peeving me off.