Groaning as I sat up in bed, I swung my arm over and slammed my hand on the alarm clock, set on the table next to my bed. I barely got any sleep last night. All that my mind could think about was my father's words, and the tone of his voice. The hatred that was evident in it. I know he only said it because he was drunk out of his mind but, that doesn't compensate for his words and actions.
I threw my blanket to the side of my bed before running a hand tiredly through my hair. I was in no mood for school. I enjoyed the few weeks we had off, but we have to go back some time.
Squinting my eyes due to the light shining through my window, which just started hitting my eyes now, caused me to groan once more. It's such a beautiful morning out and I'm over here being a negative nancy. I guess I'm not starting my day off positive. You know what they say about if you generate good vibes in the morning, the rest of your day is good as well, or or something of that nature.
I stood up from my bed and made my way over to the bathroom that was connected to my room. My feet sunk into the fuzzy carpet covering my floor with each step that I trudged.
Approaching the sink, I let my hands grip the sides of it. I looked at my mirror and was met with my reflection. I looked horrible: my hair was frizzy, dark circles under my eyes, and wet mascara stains on my cheeks from my hysteria last night. I turned the sink handles and let the water flow through the sink and began to rinse my face.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Straightening the last strand of my hair, I turned off the straightener and placed it on my vanity dresser to let it cool down. After a lot of hard work I finally looked somewhat decent. My hair was straight, my makeup was natural looking, and my outfit was good enough for me, not like I was in the mood to impress anyone anyway. ( http://data2.whicdn.com/images/104865810/thumb.jpg )
I walked over to my bed and bent down to grab my bag. I slung it over my shoulder before checking to see if I had everything I needed.
Nodding to myself, I exited my room and ran down the stairs. I walked into the kitchen to grab a light snack before school.
I walked in to see my dad sitting at the island, coffee mug in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Hearing me come in he lowered the paper a bit to look at me. "Morning." he greeted. "Morning." I mumbled making a bee-line for the cabinets.
I stood on my tip-toes and reached up to the high cabinet and grabbed the box of poptarts. "You really need to learn to start leaving the poptart box near the toaster." my dad laughed, looking at my attempt to reach the poptarts. "You know I would, but I feel like you would steal them." I said mockingly. He just shook his head at me and went back to reading his morning column.
I know he is hungover because of the light bags under is eyes. This is usually how it goes, he drinks his coffee and reads his paper, acting like nothing happened the night before. I was used to it by now.
"Oh yeah dad?" I piped up, turning around and leaning against the counter, opening a pack of poptarts. He raised his eyebrows as a signal to continue.
"Can I borrow your car for today?" I asked shyly, picking at the corners of the snack I was currently wanting to eat. "And what happened to your car?" he asked questionably. "It broke down." I mumbled, slightly smiling at him. I heard a sigh escape his lips and nod his unwillingly. I thanked him quickly before pushing myself upright and jogging out the house and to his car.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Parking the car next to the powder blue jeep that I was sat in last night, I looked around in search for Stiles. To my luck, he was nowhere in sight. Actually the whole parking lot was empty. That's weird, am I late or something? Pushing the left sleeve of my cardigan up my arm a little, I glanced down at my watch wrapped around my wrist. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, I was early if anything. Why is no one here? I know no one really wants to be here or be in a rush to go to their lockers. Can you blame me? I mean c'mon this place is like hell on earth for teenagers.
Walking away from my car alittle, a gust of wind blew past me. I began to hear whispering, hushed voices. The voices were speaking phrases and sentences I couldn't quite piece together. It sounded like a whole different language.
Whipping my head around, my eyes scanned the empty lot in search of the source of the voices. In the distance, crouched in the darkness of the trees was a dark shadow. The eyes were all I could see. A bright blue. The same eyes that stared into my eyes just last night. They were just sitting there, watchign my every move. Fear rushed down my spine, and I turned around and rushed towards the school building.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Dialing in the combination to my locker, I grabbed the books I needed throughout the day. I placed them in my bookbag, and shut the door to my locker.
Feeling eyes on me, I catiously turned around. My eyes scanned the hallway near my locker. They focused themselves on a specific duo; Stiles Stilinski and his partner in crime Scott McCall.
Noticing that I caught them staring they quickly and awkwardly averted their gaze, spinning on their heels. I shook my head at them. Goofballs.
Maybe I should go over there and thank Scott for saving me from being coyote chow?
