Motorcycle Girl

Chapter 8: Chugging Beer

Chapter 8: Chugging Beer

When my alarm starts going off the next morning, it takes every bit of strength I have not to send my phone out the window.

Groaning loudly, I shut the alarm off, letting out a huff of air as I sit up.

If I didn't have a job, I'd be pissed I have to meet Motorcycle Girl every day that I don't have class.

However, I do have a job, and I don't work today, so I'm still annoyed.

I stand up, stress radiating through my body.

I tried to call my family back after she left my apartment and the phone kept going straight to voicemail.

All of the phones, even the house phone. Or, it would ring a few times and then go to voicemail.

I hear knocking on my bedroom door. I slept in sweatpants last night.

"What?" I growl. I door open and Brenda stands there.

"Odeletta is here." She says, her arms folded over her chest.

"Why?" I ask.

"Ask her yourself."

She walks off.

I grab one of my shirts off of the floor.

If my mother could see this room, she'd whoop my ass.

If she even gives a shit about me anymore.

I pull the shirt over my head and wander down the hall, running my fingers through my messy bed hair.

French Fry stands in my living room. I raise my eyebrows at her.

"Hi?" I say, my voice rough with sleep.

She looks me up and down, her eyes hesitating on my hair, and then she sighs.

"We can study here, yes?"

"I suppose." I look around.

"It is snowing." She says. "Have you got class?"

"No." I shake my head. "Let me go...get dressed or something." I mutter. "If you're hungry, there's food in the kitchen." I look at Brenda who is watching us with narrow eyes. "Where's Mason?"

"He left for work." She says.

"Can you help her find something to eat? Or a drink?" I ask. He nods and look at French Fry.

"Thanks." I grumble.

I walk into my bedroom and shut the door.

I swallow a groan as I grab a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I don't feel like showering, so I'm not going to.

I pull on the clothes and walk into the bathroom. I pee and then brush my teeth and comb my hair. I wash my hands and dry them, walking into my bedroom. I grab my phone and wander into the kitchen where French Fry and Brenda stand.

French Fry has a mug of something. I get a glass of milk and pour chocolate syrup in it, mixing it.

"I have to go to work." Brenda announces. "Toodles."

I grunt in response. I hear her footsteps grow quieter, the sound of the front door opening, and then slamming shut a moment later.

"Did you eat breakfast?" I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder.

"Déjeuner." She says. I look at her. "That is French for breakfast." She says. "And non." She adds. "Non is French for no." She nods.

I nod slowly.