Tooth and Nail (Draft In Progress - Book One)

Chapter 1 - Sentimental Morning

I woke to the sound of a buzzing from across the room - a new text message. Probably from Avery, who is more than excited to be coming to visit from Florida today. I knew I was excited to see her (since I hadn't been able hang out in person with her since March, and June had just begun), but definitely not enough to wake up before the sun did.

"Siri..." I grumble, tossing myself over the side of my bed. On a school morning, the sensation of slight danger that comes from the four-foot plummet to the floor is enough to stimulate my brain into adequate functionality to wake up. I face plant, but still groggy and wanting to go right back to sleep, there on the carpet. "Read out."

In the bland robotic voice she has, Siri says, "Good morning, Starshine. My plane takes off in ten."

Making the effort to stand and retrieve my phone from the pile of clothes it sat on, I rolled onto my side and pushed up off the floor. On my knees I did something similar to walk and picked up the blue rectangular device. Click to unlock.

Eleven-Thirty-Eight. Woohoo.

--

The hot water poured over me in fluctuating strengths as the shower head and plumbing struggled to continue to force tired water through even more tired pipes to me. Gel soap felt cold in my hands and colder in bubble form as I scrubbed my soaked body from the feet up, feeling like protesting gravity today.

Light came in eventually, illuminating the dust and water in the air, making stripes of small spots. I can't resist the urge to wave my hand through, to make the seemingly uniform traveling flecks panic. I laugh, remembering when I was young, I thought they were bits of sunlight, and I would try to catch them, only to be disappointed by what appeared as an empty hand when I would look to see what I'd caught.

Steam made the air thick, but it smelled of perfume, the scent of the color pink and swirls of a rosy maroon. I loved that smell. I stood there, letting the water cover me for a moment, even closing my eyes and imagining the twisting colors like pouring paint in a tray and stirring with the end of a toothpick, making patterns with the mixing paints. When I opened my eyes the light had moved to point at the wall, and the glare hurt. I looked away, deciding the shower was over, and stepped out onto the cold sandstone tile, then the plush red rug, and faced the mirror. Even the fogged over glass can't hide the sad image I look at.

Too thin.

Too thick.

Too curvy.

Not curved enough.

Maybe that's why Allen doesn't visit me.

Allen. In my mind, I can see his perfect face. Golden in color, black-brown eyes and even blacker hair, almost shiny, its so dark. His smile - the one I love to hate - curls up at either side, and he smirks at me. He has no freckles or spots. Just smooth skin that I love tracing with the tip of my finger.

I can feel his hands sneaking around from behind, about my waist, and his fingers moving ever so slightly, it tickles. I look down, and frown, seeing my own hands, pale and dripping, water sliding down over my skin and dropping to the rug, making small drumming sounds. With my hand I smear away some of the fog to clearly see my face, polka-dotted with red bumps, and framed by my straight brown razor-cut hair, hanging over my ears and my bangs into my eyes. The handle of the brush on my countertop is slick and I fight to hold it in my hand as I brush my hair, causing drops to fly off the ends and splatter the wall behind me.

Suddenly feeling the air cool around me makes me pull the rug-matching red towel off of my shelf and wrap it about my shoulders like a shawl. A sigh escapes my lips, wanting someone's real warmth to stop my shivers. Guess I'll just have to wait for a hug from Avery.