It was too early. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing for myself to fall back asleep. My mind just wouldn't have it. My eyelids flew open and rolled over to look at my alarm clock. Two in the morning. I let out a groan, turned on my side, and threw a pillow at the wall.
Well, I thought it was the wall.
Turns out I left my window open last night, so I could let in the cool air so I didn't burn to death in this room. Despite it being fall, it still got really hot in my room at night. My mom's boyfriend refused to turn on the AC because their room got to cold. When I asked for a separate heating and cooling system in my room, he just laughed.
Thus, my window was open from March to late November.
And my pillow just took a dive out of it.
I sighed, crawling over to the edge of my bed to peer out the window. There, on the soggy ground, was my pillow. Even from up here it looked soaked. It must have rained during the night.
I needed my pillow to sleep, so I rolled out of bed, grabbed my shoes, and proceeded out the window.
I don't know who decided to grow vines outside a teenage girls window, but whoever they were, they sure were stupid. It provided a perfect escape route, and one that I used often.
I wasn't planning on using it to escape tonight, but once I was down there it didn't make sense not to. There was some money stashed in my shoe for occasions just like this. My pillow get thrown out the window a lot.
I snuck over to the front door and placed the pillow right inside. Then I tiptoed across the lawn, careful to stay out of the light just in case my mom had decided to stay up reading again. That was the only time I had ever been busted, when she was reading. Ever sense then I have stuck to the shadows.
There was a little coffee shop right down the road from my house. It was a five minute. I had crashed here countless times during the night. The bell chimed quietly as I walked through the doorway.
The place was practically empty. There was a gruff man in the corner smoking a cigarette reading a newspaper, a middle aged with tiered looking eyes nursing a coffee, and a guy about my age who had his face buried in a book.
I took a seat in a booth and waited for one of the rude waitresses to come over and take my order. It took them 15 minutes.
"What can I getcha?" she asked.
I glanced up from my menu. The girl was dressed in short-shorts covered up by her apron, a crop top that revealed a belly ring, knee high lace up boots, and a boatload of makeup. She was loudly chewing gum, opening her mouth every once and a while to prove it. There was one word that came to mind when I saw her: slut.
It was mean, and I am in no place to judge, but with the way she dresses it was kind of hard to think otherwise. She could be having family problems like me and was just trying to prove a point to her parents by wearing skimpy clothes.
"Well?" she prompted.
I shook my head, clearing it of all those judgmental thoughts. I glanced back down at my menu before ordering.
"Yeah, um, I'll have a coffee," I began.
"Black or cream?" she asked.
"Cream. And a blueberry muffin," I finished.
"Coming right up," she said, writing down my order on a notepad she had pulled out of her notepad. "My name is Emily, if you need anything."
I handed Emily my menu, thanking her before she left. I pulled my phone out of my pajama bottom pocket. I don't really remember grabbing it off the bedside table, but I was thankful for it now. The wait for the food here can sometimes take a while.
