ASUNDER (I) : tmr newt

62: I'm Infinitely Small

62 Dawn

I wake up, early as I can, and look to see Minho but he is gone. Klunk.

I slip out of bed, tumbling onto the floor in a mess of sheets and hair. My butt hurts as it slams against the ground, my hair falling around me. I quickly pull on my jeans, searching the floor for my button up shirt, but I can't seem to find it.

I throw the covers back up on the bed, ruffling through the fabric. When I glance out the window, I notice the sun is about to rise.

Damn it. I can't leave shirtless, or at least in my only-a-tank-top current state of existing. However, if I don't leave soon it'll be bright out, and people will be able to see me crawling out the window.

I abandon my search, lifting my arms up to search the clothes Minho owns. The boys all have multiples of the same shirts but I am resigned to one shirt. The shirt doesn't bother me so much, since Fry and Frankie loaned me a few of theirs. It's the jeans that drive me nuts, since I can maybe wash them once a week.

I sent down a request this week for more clothes. Hopefully they should be arriving today.

It's too late to keep searching. I quickly give up, searching through Minho's clothes for anything I can wear. I pick up one of the many similar yet slightly different blue shirts he owns and throw it over my head. It doesn't look too different from mine, and so long as I keep it unbuttoned, people won't be able to tell it's not mine.

I can tell my hair is messy in the braid I have it in, but I don't pay much attention to the mess. I attempt to pull myself out of the window haphazardly, before practically face planting on the ground. There are boys gathering around the box hole, and I don't think any of them see me.

"You should hide better," Michelle shoves past me, and I can only glare at her.

I roll my eyes, turning to her as she turns around to smirk at me. No one else seems to have noticed besides Michelle. She never seemed like the gloating type, although I can't say I'm particularly surprised.

"You just wish you could get some," I joke with her, although I'm unsure why she is being so friendly.

She pauses, shaking her head at me with a smile playing on her lips. "You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot."

I'm not sure we were on a foot at all. Michelle doesn't really talk to me, or anyone I guess. All I know is that she's pretty violent, which I had no respect for.

But then Ben was there, and he attacked me. So maybe I do get it. After all, I did hit him in the face. From what Minho tells me, she didn't really go at Ben when he was all over her either.

When exactly was she violent anyway? When she didn't attack those Baggers? When she hit those guys when we first got here, since they were already trying to lock us up? When she hit Ben the first time, on the first night?

"Is there a bloody right foot?" I ask, not sure if I am referencing her or this place in general.

She shrugs, although she isn't quite sure what to say. Neither am I really. I always thought she was both paranoid, and very distant. Not quite Curly levels, but as if Michelle sees the world through tinted glasses.

"I get plenty," she circles back to the first topic, but I can't help but feel surprised.

"Really?" I ask, confused as to who might give her some. I get the feeling she is playing with me, but doesn't know how. "You know, I've shacked ten different shanks since I got here."