Winona

01

IT IS THE bright yellow peeking past his burgandy curtains that causes Finn to realize something is off. He rubs at his eyes, sitting up straight in his bed. The light of the sun softly rests on the blankets scattered around his lower body; he can see little dust particles floating around in the rays. Outside, birds are chirping in the quiet morning, their songs floating in through one of Finn's ears and out the other.

"Shit."

He throws the blanket aside in one fluid motion and tries to leap off the mattress, but unfortunately gets his foot caught in the striped comforter, dragging Finn down with it. He falls to the floor with a thud and an inevitable bruise on his right arm.

"Shit," he repeats breathlessly. Kicking away the blankets with a frustrated grunt, Finn manages to stand on both feet, albeit a little unsteady. The clock on his dresser catches his eye, the glowing green numbers flashing the numbers: seven twenty-seven. He officially has ten minutes to get to school.

"Dad!" Finn yells as he stumbles past his doorframe and into the hallway. The sudden chill of the morning causes him shiver and goosebumps to appear on his arms. He rubs at them visciously and stops upon reaching his destination. Right across from him is the door to his father's room, and the mahogany is soon met with Finn's fist knocking upon the surface. "Dad! My alarm didn't go off! Why didn't you wake me up? Dad?"

When all that can be heard is the sound of abrasive snoring on the opposite side of the door, Finn lets out a disgruntled noise. He knows that he shouldn't be too harsh on his father -- the man works the graveyard shift five days a week, for Pete's sake -- but he can't shake off the annoyance with being late for school yet again.

It's probably the eleventh tardy he's had all year, and it's only the beginning of October.

Finn eventually gives up on trying to wake his father's slumber and drags his feet back to his room. For a split second he considers skipping school, but remembers that justifiably, the Carters are not made of money. Finn relies solely on his academic perserverance (and hope) so that he can move on to college, get a stable career, and take care of his dad. If he began bad habits now, he might never be able to break them.

He closes the door to his room gently, suddenly guilty for trying to wake up his father so harshly. Sighing, Finn decides being late is better than not showing up at all and pulls some clean clothing out from his dresser. After he has changed into something acceptable, he makes his way into the hall, grabs an apple from the island, shrugs on his backpack, and walks out the front door.

The Carter boy is met with another burst of autumn air and he discreetly pulls his oversized wool hat further down his head. Despite his near obsession with the season, the one thing that he can never bring himself to like is the sudden cold after months of hot sun on his back. Finn drowsily reaches his gloved hand into the pocket of him parka and takes out his usual breakfast.

Finn takes a bite of his fruit, and the crunch echoes in the quiet of the morning. The stars still shine dimly in the navy blue sky slowly melting into an array of pinks and oranges. The sunlight that has peaked through does nothing to warm him due to the breeze that picks up. He shivers again. His converse crunching against the leaves scattered around the ground, Finn approximates how much time it will take to get to the school. On days when he walked slowly, it took nearly twenty minutes. When he lightly jogged, it took only ten. Finn sighs.

He starts jogging.

It's out of nowhere when a loud roar cuts through the calmness of the empty streets. The sound is loud and frightening, making birds shriek and dart into the safety of the air. Finn jumps too, his apple falling to the ground in the process. In between the bout of fear, he feels a bit, well, annoyed.