Chasing Jade

Chapter 1

I hit the snooze button on my phone again, silencing the blaring alarm in my ear. I grumble to myself as I roll onto my stomach and put a pillow over my head to block the sunlight.
It feels like only seconds have passed and again, the sound of my alarm goes off. I throw my pillow off me and grab my phone, I squint my eyes in order to adjust to the brightness.

"SHIT!" I jump out of bed and trip on the blanket wrapped around me. I land on my knees and roll my eyes at myself as a groan leaves my throat.
I'm clumsy, always have been.

I pick myself up off the ground and run into the bathroom, I splash some water on my face and dry it quickly with the washcloth hanging on the sink. I furiously brush my teeth. I search for a hair tie in the small blue box that sits top of the toilet, its full of clips, bobby pins, ribbon and one hair tie left. I quickly tie my hair in an extremely messy bun; hair is spraying out of it on all sides. I grab my foundation and rub it into my skin like lotion, I add a few strokes of mascara to the top and bottom lashes.

My apartment is small and confined but that is Los Angeles, well at least what I can afford of Los Angeles.

I throw on a bra and a black t-shirt follows, I slide into my paint stained jeans from the previous day. I quickly make my way into the kitchen and snap a pod closed in the fancy coffee machine I bought myself. I hit the button to make the biggest cup and place my mug under the spout. The smell of the warm beverage brings light to my senses. I slip on a pair of black shoes. I pick up my purse and the few books off my desk, I mix some cream in my coffee and I grab my blue sweater hanging by the door. I lock the door behind me as I start putting the sweater on, and rush downstairs.

I have three books under my left arm and that same hand is holding the scolding hot drink. I rush down the few stairs outside and start the speed walk to my Fine Arts class. I am trying to pull my arm through the other sleeve of my sweater; my eyes are focused on it as if somehow a deadly stare will help.

As my hand makes its way through the end of the sweater, I move my eyes forward and my body clashes with another.
My coffee drenching the man that was a little too busy looking at his phone, my books are array on the ground and me at my wits end.

"I'm so sorry" His voice is soft; I pay no attention to him.

I let out a frustrated sigh and kneel down to pick up my books, which now smell strongly of coffee. 'These won't be much of a refund now.'
He kneels down as well and hands me a book and the now empty mug. I give him a pressed smile without even looking at him. I stand back up and take off running to my class.

I hear him yell out "Sorry." Again, I don't give him the time of day because I simply do not have it.

Thankfully, school isn't too far from my apartment, but I am still out of breath by the time I get there. Once I get on campus, I slow my pace to a fast walk. The cool breeze feels good against the beads of sweat on my forehead. I use the walk to class to calm my heart rate.
I finally make it to my fine arts class, 15 minutes late.
I open the door slowly, hoping no one will notice me slip into any open seat.

The teacher shoots me a glance and continues on talking. I sigh of relief leaves me. I pick up one of the books, the coffee has seeped in, the pages yellow and stained, I bite my lip thinking of the money I just lost from ruining these books. I shake it off and start paying attention. I have a hard time staying focused on the lecture for the lack of caffeine in my system.
Halfway into class and we break into our painting stations.

"Create something you feel on the surface. Don't dig deep into your emotions. Just think of something minimal." Professor Hicks throws his hands about as he speaks.