Morganville (Justin Bieber)

Chapter 33

The cops left, Justin played some video games, and I studied. It was a normal kind of day, all things considered. Justin had the TV on, looking for any news that might show a clue to what his dad was up to, but Morganville's local station seemed bland, vanilla, and content free.

The night came; Micheal drifted back into human form: and we had dinner. Normal life, such as it passed for in a place like Morganville. In the Glass House.

It was only at midnight, when I was drifting off to sleep to the distant, sweet sound of Micheal's guitar, that I started wondering about what I was going to do in the morning. I couldn't just hide, no matter what Micheal thought. I had a life - sort of - and I'd already missed enough glasses this semester. It was go or withdraw, and withdrawing would make things worse. I'd never get my academic life together and go on to Ivy League schools I was dreaming about.

I fell asleep thinking of vampires, fangs, pretty girls with mean smiles and cigarette lighters. Of fires and screaming. Of Justin's Mom floating in the bath tub. Of Justin, huddled in a corner, crying.

Not a great night. I woke up at first light, wondering if Micheal was already gone again, and yawned and struggled my way out of bed and to the bathroom. Nobody else was up, of course. The shower felt good, and by the time I'd dried my hair and pulled on a plain white shirt and blue jeans with sneakers, and loaded up my backpack with essentials, I was ready to face the outside world.

Justin was asleep on the couch downstairs. I tiptoed past him, but a squeaky floorboard made it a useless exercise; he came bolt upright and stared at me with wild, uncomprehending eyes for a few seconds before he blinked and sighed.

"Ana" he swung his legs off, sat up, and rested his head on the palm of his hands. "Ow. Man, remind me that two hours of sleep doesn't really cut it"

"I think you just reminded yourself. What were you doing up?" I asked.

"Talking" he said. "Micheal needed to talk"

Oh. Guy stuff. Stuff Micheal hadn't wanted to share with us girls. Okay, fine, not my business. I hitched up my backpack and edged towards the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Justin asked without lifting his head.

"You know where I'm going" I said.

"Oh no, you're not!" He shouted.

"Justin, I'm sorry, I'm going, but you don't get to tell me what to do" I sighed. Technically, I supposed he could; he was older, and Micheal's absence meant he was sort of the owner. "I have to go to glass, look, I'll be fine. Amelie's protection is still good, and the campus is neutral ground, you know that. Unless I screw up, I'll be okay"

"It's not neutral ground for Monica" he said, and looked up. "She tried to kill you, Ana"

"I can handle Monica" I didn't think I could, but at least I could avoid her. Running was always an option.

Justin stared at me with bloodshot, tired eyes for a few long seconds, then shook his head and flopped back against the couch cushions, arms spread wide. "Whatever" he said. "Call if you get into trouble"

Something in his tone made me want to shed the backpack and crawl up on the couch next to him, cuddling close, but I straightened up my spine and said, "I will" and marched to the door.

Two hard, fast chills swept over me. Micheal telling me a firm no.

"Bite me" I said, and shot the brand new locks that Justin had installed, and exited into the warm Texas morning sun.

English class was boring, and I'd already read through everything in the curriculum, so I spent my time writing out my thoughts in the back of my journal. A lot of them centred around Justin, and his lips, and his hands. And curses, not en fact that I wasn't eighteen just yet, and it was a stupid rule anyway.