Porcelain Skin (NOW ON AMAZON KU)

17. Dream

The weekend goes by unexpectedly slow. Not that I mind at all. It gives me a bit longer to get over the whole Trevor episode. The more I think about him and what he said, the more confused I get. Did he not message me a few days ago to reassure me that he did not hate me? But then the next moment he's confessing to his roommate, in the privacy of his apartment, that he 'kinda hates me'. Guys complain about girls being confusing, but this scenario has 'confusing' written all over it, and it's ticking me off.

I feel like I've been pretty understanding when it comes to Trevor's feelings. Yes, I screwed up. Big Time. But it's not like I was rubbing insults into his face all day in high school. I get that he's being the protective brother, but he's acting as if I scorned him personally. The other thing I can't figure out is, if he was such an overly protective brother, why didn't he ever confront me about it? He could have cornered me in the school hallway and demanded that I put an end to it or he'd put an end to me. Maybe not that dramatic. I'm just saying, where was he the whole time that I picked on his precious little sister? Instead of standing up for her, he chose to completely ignore it.

I rub a hand through my hair in frustration, causing strands of curls to stick out in strange places. I've been doing a bit of grocery shopping since the school food doesn't rate very highly, and I'm desperately needing to restock my mid-morning, mid-afternoon, evening, and midnight snack supply. Sadly, this moment right here has been the highlight of my week.

My roommate has made herself scarce, and Chuck and Lindsey were visiting their parents for the weekend. Next weekend I'm inviting myself along if they decide to ditch me again. I refuse to be cooped up in my dorm another moment when every person I know on campus is missing. Well, except for Trevor. I'd hang with Mike but, other than jumping off cliffs together at the lake, I don't really know him.

Secretly, I'm dying to see Trevor. I want him to grovel at my feet, and wash my toes with his tears. I want him to beg for forgiveness until his throat bleeds and then confess his love for me, all in one breath. And then we could finally conclude this story with a happily ever after. Unfortunately, this is real life, and in real life, those endings rarely exist.

Pushing my cart through the cookie aisle, I snag a packet of Oreo's from the shelf and finish off my shopping spree with a box of Skittles. Literally, a box. Not just one packet, but the box full of little baggies. Yeah, I bought that. I've got a weakness for those round, little balls of tropical goodness that send my tongue on a holiday.

When I finally arrive back at my eerily quiet dorm room, I stuff all my goodies in my secret hiding place under the bed. I'm aware that it's not a secret because last week my heaping supply of Sour Patch vanished in a night. I'm not too concerned, though, because I just so happened to have found Mercy's secret stash of Starburst, popcorn, and Twizzlers. I have enjoyed all three.

I've finally decided that I need someone to talk to, so I reach over to my bedside where my phone is so that I can call my mom. I search underneath the magazine and in the drawer, but my phone isn't there. I pull my blankets away from my bed and crawl all over the thing using my hands like a metal detector, but I find nothing. My phone is missing. I guess this would explain why Lindsey couldn't reach me the other day. In the back of my mind, I wonder if Trevor has actually attempted to get a hold of me. With this thought, a fragment of my anger vaporizes.

Throwing myself onto my messy bed and placing my feet against the wall I go to work thinking. I retrace all my steps, trying to discover where my phone is, without actually having to move my lazy butt out of bed. Grocery shopping literally drains the life from my bones. My heart slows down, and my skin sags. It's not enjoyable in any way.

My mind begins to buzz with random thoughts as the mental search for my phone is forgotten. Eventually, my brain can't handle the action any longer and slowly turns off like a dying Energizer bunny. My eyes drift downward, and within minutes I've escaped reality and ventured into the land of unicorns, rainbows, and a pocket-sized Trevor. That last one probably stemmed from watching 'Honey, I Blew Up the Kid' last night.