I burst through the door, flinging my schoolbag off my shoulder; I jogged upstairs and into my bedroom, throwing myself dramatically onto my bed. I didn't think I had ever been so tired in my whole life.
'Holly!' My Mum's warning yell carried through the whole house.
'Pick up your bag! And DON'T just leave the front door open.' She shouted, when I didn't reply I heard her heavy foot falls (no offence mum) on the stairs. Her head peered inside my bedroom.
'Holl- What's wrong?' She asked, her voice shifting from agitation to motherly concern in a split second. Unnerving...
'Headache,' I mumbled into my bedspread. She stroked my hair. Well, she pretended to stroke it, she was actually checking my temperature, but trying not to let me find out and go all' teenager' on her, as she liked to put it. Sly, sly mother. I let her. I couldn't be bothered to move anyway.
'Awww honey. You feel a little warm,' She muttered anxiously, apparently forgetting her secret plan to check my temperature was supposed to be kept secret. I kept quiet, hoping she'd either leave me alone, or fetch me some soup. I know I sounded like a spoiled brat. In my defence, I had a headache, and a stressful day and I just wanted to be babied a little. Not too much though, as Mum had a tendency to do. Just enough that it felt as though it wasn't my decision to be babied. That way I could retain whatever dignity I had. Thankfully Mum was in a generous mood.
'Honey, you get into bed, I'll open your window and go get you some headache pills.' She ordered, bustling around my bedroom, and setting my evil plan into motion. It took me a while to realise she hadn't moved from the window for a long time.
'Mum...'
'Who IS that?' She muttered, to nobody in particular. I felt a familiar sinking feeling in my stomach. Don't be him, don't be him. I heaved my protesting body out of bed, and joined her at the window, trying to follow her gaze. A dark shadow was apparent across the street. He stood out in stark contrast to the pink and white blossom trees lining the road. I sighed. Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was a hobo. A girl can dream, right?
I yanked down the blinds, throwing the room into almost darkness. Mum huffed, and waved me back into bed, shutting the door behind her.
It was a hobo, it was a hobo. Of course if it was a hobo then I think we needed to move house, away from potential hobo activity areas. If it wasn't, then he probably saw me looking and knows I don't want to talk to him. I was still praying it was a hobo, which is a weird thing to pray for. I snuggled deeper into my quilt, trying to forget all thoughts of hobo's and Alex.
'Awww, is little baby Holly all poorly?' Kate cooed from the doorway.
'Go away,' I mumbled, throwing a pillow at her. She tutted.
'I'm here to deliver your soup, moron.' She broke her 'caring' façade, dodging the pillow with ease. She dumped the tray on my nightstand and bounded to the window, ripping open my blinds. Sunlight streamed in, practically blinding me.
'KATE! What the hell?' I shielded my eyes, searching blindly for something else to throw at her. My DVD player, perhaps.
'Drama queen much? I'm just seeing who the guy is,' She replied, as if I should have already known her motive.
'Guy...?' I guess if I had been concentrating I would have understood exactly who she meant. Unfortunately I was still unsuccessfully trying to escape from the streaming torrent of light burning through my retinas.
'Definitely hot.' She muttered to herself.
'Just shut my blinds for the LOVE of God,' I yelled. I was tempted to throw my soup at her, although all that would earn me is one burnt sister, and an empty stomach. I decided against it. Kate sent me an irritated look; apparently I was rudely interrupting whatever train of thought she had managed to conjure up with both her brain cells.
