The Cure for Sleeping

Chapter Nine

The next evening begins with Josh standing up, stretching, and stealing Thea's blankets. She groans tries to yank them back, swearing at Josh with a finesse that requires both a natural talent and an extensive knowledge of the English language. Josh, of course, doesn't appreciate this show of skill. He just throws a pillow at her.

Hazel rolls to her feet before Josh try to wake her, trailing blankets as she wanders off into the bathroom. I sit up, freeing myself from my own nest and Josh tosses me a protein bar.

"Coach always said that these were the breakfast of champions!" He says a little too enthusiastically, biting into his own with fervour. I peel off the green wrapper, revealing a bar the shape and consistency of... well, it's a little off-putting, to say the least. Under Josh's scrutiny, I nibble the end. It tastes of beans and a sad, sugarless existence.

Josh leaves Noah to sleep, though places a bar next to his open hand. "If only I had a camera." He mutters around his own bar. Noah's mouth is hanging open, a line of drool starting to form.

"At least he doesn't snore." I say. The bar could be improved with a layer of peanut butter.

Josh swings around to me, a hand flying to his chest. "And what is that supposed to imply?" He gasps, all fake outrage.

"That I'm going to need earplugs. A chainsaw would be a better roommate. Or guy with an electric guitar and no volume control."

"Yes, but he wouldn't have my good looks. And ask Thea about the earplugs –I'm sure she'll have spares."

"I do, but I'm saving them for an emergency. I hear cotton balls are a good alternative." says the lump hiding under a blanket.

"We have those?" Josh asks, eyebrows up.

"No. She'll just have to make due."

Eventually, Thea emerges from her corner, a scowl already set in place. She breezes past us, her shoulders thrown back and hips swinging. Thea carries herself like a queen deigning to let her subjects view her brilliance. She doesn't even have a bedhead.

She saunters towards the bathroom, ducking under the curtain. I can hear her and Hazel arguing about who has first dibs on the water. I decide to wait before trying to use it myself. Seems like a good way to keep my head attached to my shoulders.

When Noah wakes up I sit down next to him. He lets me check his ribs again, and this time his cheeks are definitely red. Some of the bruises have faded around the edges to a mottled yellow, and since he's not dead, I'm willing to assume that there's no internal bleeding. We chat for a while, about normal things: Where we went to school, movies and books we like, what we wanted to do after graduation. It's nice to talk about regular things instead of the widespread death of mankind.

I find out that Noah grew up in Manhattan, and has lived here his entire life. He likes programming and computers, wanted to go into game design after school. He asks me about Australia, and I feed him the usual reel –spiders the size of dinner plates, vegemite on everything and riding kangaroos to school. It's nothing new, but it never really stops being funny. He gets suspicious about the last one, though. I change my story to emus.

At some point, Josh starts raiding the church's cabinets. I'm pretty sure that he's looking for a preacher's secret stash of spirits, but instead he finds a stack of board games and paperbacks. Thea turns up her nose at the former, curling up with a book. I challenge Noah to a game of chess and lose spectacularly. He teaches me checkers.

Josh and Thea wander over in time for Hazel to blitz us all at scrabble. I even end up playing twister with Josh. We're way too big for the mat, and end up collapsing in a tangle of limbs. I shove Josh's foot out of my face, giggling like a twelve-year old. The actual twelve-year-old sits with Thea and watches us, a bemused look on her face. Josh dimples when he laughs.