Hey Mr. Player, Can I Break Your heart?

Day One: Texting

Hey SO sorry for the long wait...had a little writer's block but i'm fine noww.

soooo ENJOYYY!!!

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Monday

Alana's POV

"Alana Miller, if you don't get up right now, you will be late for school."

"Mmm." I muttered.

I heard a frustrated sigh. "Get up."

"Five more minutes," I groaned pleadingly. “Please!”

"No, get up."

I was about to go back to sleep when the covers disappeared, making me shiver.

"I'm up, I’m up." I rubbed my eyes. Pulling myself into an upright position, I snatched the covers back and pulled them over my legs. It really was freezing this morning.

"Okay then. I’ve already ironed your uniform, so go take a quick shower and I’ll lay it out for you." Mary ordered. “And I mean quick!”

I just nodded; my eyes still half closed, and made the cold trip across the room to my en suite bathroom. I welcomed the hot water of the shower and, when I’d returned to my bedroom, I saw that Mary had indeed laid out my uniform on top of my bed. After drying off, I slipped on my uniform- thankful someone had thought to put the heating on.

Mary was the maid. My father had hired her after my mum died because he couldn’t exactly take care of me himself. In my eyes though, she really was part of the family. I loved her to pieces, truly and wholly- when she wasn’t dragging me out of bed, that is.

Mary walked back into the room, and I made my way over to the chair in front of the vanity mirror. I watched through the reflection of the mirror as Mary appeared behind me. She pulled out the bobble that was holding my hair in a bun, and it came cascading down around my shoulders. Then Mary picked up the comb and began to brush the unruly waves. This had been our routine every morning since I was seven; she’d said it reminded her of the times she used to comb her daughter’s hair. If I was being truthful, it also reminded me of the times my mum used to brush my hair. Her hands were just as soft, as gentle as Mary’s.

"I'm going to visit Christine at the cemetery today. Do you want to come and say hi to your mom?"

I shook my head. "I already have plans." The lie came naturally to my lips; I’d told it so many times. "Sorry."

"You have to face her one day, you know." I studied Mary’s expression in the mirror. She was smiling; it was knowing, and almost sad.

I just smiled back, pretending I had no idea what she was talking about.

Mary was one of those people who had faith, who believed that loved ones could still hear you in heaven. Whenever she’s able, she goes up to the graveyard to visit her daughter, Christine. And every single time, without fail, Mary would try to talk me into coming with her. She thought it would be good for me to visit my mum, but I don’t really want to believe that she can hear me. Anyway, even if she could, she wouldn’t be able to answer me back. I really don’t see the point; I don’t want to remember her like that.

Mary squeezed my shoulders gently, "Done."

"Thank you." I smiled, satisfied with the two French braids she’d plaited into my hair.

"You’re welcome, sweetheart. David is waiting for you outside."

I nodded, heading out my room. I pressed the down button on the elavator because I didn't want to walk down all those stairs today and I waited for the ding. When the door finally opened, I got in and pressed the O button which stands for outside. When the elevator dinged again, I walked to the car in front of my house and got in the backseat.