Eight Dollars (Trixya)

Day 4

The next morning I was sleep deprived, having spent the rest of the night tossing as silently as I could in my bunk. A combination of my confusion at the events of yeasterday evening and irriatation at the torture of my dream had kept me up, and now I felt like shit. The major downside to not doing drag this week was not having an excuse to cover up the inevitable bags under my eyes. I got out of my bunk, immediately pulling a hoodie on as I headed to the kitchenette to find some kind of sustenance.

"You look like shit," Amy remarked. Although makeup free, and therefore far more natural looking than her usual cartoonish style, she looked like a supermodel compared to how I felt.

"Thanks," I said, flopping down beside her. Her remark had got the attention of Claire and Brian, who sat on the other side of the table, both giving me sympathetic looks.

"Do you want coffee?" Brian asked, and as I nodded he got up to pour some.

"You're an angel," I told him, suddenly remembering my dream the night before and hoping I wasn't blushing. "Mix it with, like, four Red Bulls and then I'll feel half alive,"

"What were you up to last night?" Claire questions, and I feel like I'm answering to my mother.

"Nothing! I just... couldn't sleep,"

"We can stick around the bus today, if you want?" Brian offered, placing a steaming coffee in front of me.

I nodded. That sounded ideal, as I wanted to be halfway near awake for that night's show, and I had no clue what there was to do in Birmingham, where we were that day.

"Where's kyle?" I asked, suddenly noticing his absence from the group.

"Oh, he's off visiting people today," Claire told me, as Amy and Brian gave each other conspirational smiles. I felt like I was on the outside of something, but if it was about Brian and Kyle, I probably wanted to be on the outside.

"Cool," I nodded, because Kyle could go and visit whoever the fuck he wanted, I couldn't care less.

"I'm going for a smoke," I announced, getting up from my seat and heading to grab my lighter from my bag.

"Are you ever going to quit?" Brian asked, as he always did.

"One day, probably," I rolled my eyes as I headed out, the unwelcome cold air hitting me immediately.

I leaned back against the bus as I retrieved a cigarette from the pack in my hoodie pocket, lighting it without a second thought. I knew Brian wasn't a fan, but addictions, I knew, were very hard to kick. Cigarettes were cheaper and easier to get than drugs, and so, for now, I was sticking to them. I kept promising myself that I would stop, but then I would feel the nicotine kick in, and decided it would have to happen some other time.

As I exhaled a cloud of smoke, I looked out across the dull grey gravel of the mostly empty car park. Tour had it's glamorous elements, but right now I wasn't feeling it. This felt too much like real life, and I'd never been one for that.

I was too tired to think about the last few days any more. I'd spent hours, thoughts racing in the dark, and now I had embraced the chaos. Everything felt like a mess of strings all tied up together somehow, and right now, I was far too tired to even try to unravel them. No, today, I wasn't going to think.

I closed my eyes, breathing out another cloud, letting the outside world get lost in it.