Tide

Chapitre Cinq

The trash I wake up to makes me want to tear my ears off. And to add to that, I hear my phone blast the stupid ringtone I still have for Ryder—Justin Bieber's "Baby." I guess I didn't leave my phone at the beach, but rather on the floor by my desk. For a moment I contemplate going back to sleep, but I know that's going to be impossible now. I grunt and open my eyes slowly, and immediately the bright, setting sun makes me regret my decision to get up. I lumber over to my door and shut it, knowing that my parents are probably home and downstairs now. I pick up my phone next and answer Ryder, reluctantly.

"Hey, Daniel. How—"

"Hi, Ryder," I cut him off, clearing my dry throat, "I'll call you back, I need to take care of something, okay?"

"Oka—" I hang up on him before he finishes, and toss my phone onto my bed. Without thought, I grab a rock out of the bowl on my desk that I haven't touched in a long time. I pull open my curtains and pull the glass open the rest of the way. For a moment I just stare at Avril dancing by herself stupidly, like she always does, singing her heart out. I spot her partially open window, where her blasting music is traveling through into my room through my open window.

"Terremoto (terremoto), Terremoto (terremoto), Terremoto (terremoto), Terremoto, ¡dale duro!" she shouts enthusiastically, quickly shaking her ass and taking small steps to the rhythm of the song, almost like she's dancing Punta.

I launch the rock at her window, and it taps it lightly before falling to the ground in-between our rooms. I wait a moment, but realize that she couldn't have possibly heard the tap on her window with the Reggaeton blasting. She doesn't even turn around. I pull away from the window for a moment to reach for another rock, and when I turn back, the song has moved to the chorus and Avril has switched it up to do this weird dance move, that frankly doesn't look that appropriate. She has her palms up and pulls her outstretched arms from her knees to her waist in a fast, repeated motion. She screams the chorus as she turns slowly, "Shaky, shaky, shaky, shaky, shaky, shaky, shaky..."

I see this as the perfect opportunity to get her to stop the crap she's listening to, and I dangerously lean over my windowsill more to get the perfect launch angle, so that I may toss the rock through the small crack in her window and have it land by her feet.

When she is about to make her next step and be able to see me watching her, I fling the rock, and make it through, hitting her leg. She viciously whips her body around to face me and quickly pulls her shirt down, it having been tied up—I assume to release the heat from dancing. She darts over to her phone sitting next to her speaker, and presses pause on "Shaky, Shaky."

Usually, I would feel threatened by the expression she has on her face as she pulls her window up—but I could care less. "Thank goodness you turned that shit off," I express to her. Her response is immediate—immediately offended—and she raises a hand to her chest, mouth agape, dramatically feigning cruel offense.

"WOWOWOW, Daniel... I'm hurt," she frowns, squinting her eyes at me. "That 'shit' happens to be my favorite song at the moment, sir," she chuckles.

I instantly roll my eyes in response to her, and then just take a seat on my window seat, pulling a leg up to my chest and resting my arm on it. I lean my head back on to my wall, tired, and stare off into the setting sun.

Another day gone by. Another day without my sister.

"Thanks for turning it off, Avril," I tell her gruffly, already distant—my mind wandering.

From my peripheral, I watch her move her hand away from her breast and lean against her windowsill. "Are you okay?"

I don't answer her. I'm sure she can figure that one out on her own.