Sarah tells me that my grounding is now two weeks. Honestly, I don’t see what the problem is. I mean, yes her house is a little covered in paint but it’s fine! She’s already called Stanley Steamer: Carpet Cleaner and they’re coming out tomorrow to clean up all the paint and what not. Well except for my room, because it actually looks really nice to me. There’s orange and yellow paint splattered everywhere, including the carpeted white floor.
It’s four o’clock p.m. now, and I’ve finally got all the paint off of me and out of my hair. I strip the bed of the sheets and duvet and throwing them in a heap on the floor. Then I push the desk back-since it actually wasn’t all that heavy, and then my bookcase back into their respective places No way am I moving that bed all alone. Will’s gone now though. Soon after we got back home, he told me that he had to go to work. He works virtually every day. I sit down on bare bed, which is sitting in the middle of my floor. Someone’s gonna have to move it; but not me definitely.
I open my door and walk out of my room in my pajamas. I figured that since I’m grounded for the next two weeks; I may as well just stay in my pajamas, so once I got out of shower; even though it’s only 4, I put them on. I go across the hall, and knock on Ryder’s door.
“Yeah?” Ryder calls. That seems to be his favorite way of answering the door.
“Ryder it’s me, can I come in?”
“Sure.”
I push open the door, and walk into Ryder’s room. He’s lying on his bed with one arm behind his head and the other loosely holding the remote. I look down at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, “Problem?”
“Can I sit down?”
Ryder sits up, scooting over making room for me. That’s not exactly what I meant. I mean, I was just asking if I could sit in the chair or something, but this works too. I plop down beside him and look over at him. His eyes are firmly focused on the television. He’s watching some kinda sit-com or something.
“Is there something you need?” Ryder wonders, seeing me look at him.
“Will you please please help me move my bed?”
Ryder looks at me for a second before saying, “I’d rather not.”
I roll my eyes, “Come on, please?”
“Only if you do me a favor in exchange.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Stop taking long showers.”
I scoff, “There are two showers in this house; if I take too long, why don’t you go downstairs to the other one?”
“Because my room is up on this floor; ergo my shower. So I don’t wanna go all the way downstairs just to bathe.”
“Well then why don’t you get in the shower before me?”
“Because you come home and take one right then.”
“Okay okay, I’ll take shorter showers. Now will you help me?”
Ryder nods, “Alright.” He says, getting out of the bed, and walking across the hall to my room. I follow him, and as he pushes my door open, he puts his hand on his head. “What the hell is what all the paint fumes? Oh my God.”
YOU ARE READING
Summer Doesn't Last Forever | ✓
Teen FictionSeventeen year old McKenna Bryant isn't happy about being shipped to the small town of Vernon in California for the summer while her mother and step-father vacation in Brazil. Seven long years have passed since McKenna saw any of the six O'Connor ch...