Lie to Me: A Mermaid Tail

Chapter 14- What Happened to Night Time Casual?

~Friday~

 There's a soft, sweet chirping of morning birds outside the slightly open window. Sunlight filtered through the translucent curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow. A gentle breeze sifted through the room, the light wooden floorboards giving off this sense of comfort and peace to the white and airy room. The white shag rug in the middle of the floor looked soft and welcoming to cradle your feet.

Off to the side, you can see what would have been a beautifully made, perfect, pristine bed with a fluffy  black, white, and blue floral comforter and pillows. I say would have been, because it was not beautifully made, and the girl with a rat's nest for hair lying in it looked anything but pristine and perfect.

Welcome to my Friday morning.

The morning birds persistently chirped and I felt like throwing a memory foam pillow at the window just to shut them up. I groaned as my mother knocked on the door, urging me to wake up from hours of sleep. This time, I did throw a pillow at the door to let my mother know I was up, and that I was not happy. The knocking stopped immediately, and I heard a sigh, and then the sound of my mother's heels clacking down the stairs. 

I rolled off the bed and onto the floor, dragging half of my bedspread with me. I stood up, smoothed out my sequin tank top and realized that I was still in yesterday's clothes. I sighed, shut the window and closed the curtains, then walked to my sea foam color painted dresser and picked out a striped, pastel colored shirt and slipped it on with ripped denim shorts. Yesterday's outfit laid in a pile on the floor, ready to be forgotten until my mom picked them up. 

My room smelled like mint and vanilla, with a slight smell of ocean breeze and salt water. My clothes smelled like that, too. No perfume needed, but I always add a little vanilla sugar perfume.

I shoved a pair of vans on my feet and took off, brushing my wavy hair as I shuffled down the stairs with half the grace of my mom. I burst skillfully into the warm living room. My mother was reading the newspaper on the couch, and my father was in the kitchen making coffee. My dad tossed me a cinnamon bun with a napkin, and I skillfully caught it. The aroma of sugar frosting and warm cinnamon covered me. 

"Thanks, dad," I said quickly, swinging the door open and tripping down my porch. My backpack strap dug into my shoulder as I scurried the ten blocks to school. I could hear the scuffing of my vans across the cement sidewalk. I saw no sign of either of the boys, no clattering of Aidan's pick up, no purr of Nate's Camaro. I sighed and kept ushering myself towards the school. 

I could see it looming in the distance, Kaplan High School. Many people say high school is either the highest or lowest point of their existence. Me? I wasn't sure which one it was for me. The golden sun poured over my head, and four blocks later I was skidding into the parking lot. 

Aidan was climbing out of his pick up truck, and he slammed the door shut and locked it, then grabbed his backpack out of the bed and he started walking towards the school. Almost simultaneously, Nate was stepping out of his convertible, raising the hand with his keys over his head after he slammed the door. I saw his thumb twitch, and the car let out an audible 'beep' as he locked it and didn't look back, like he didn't have a care in the world. 

(**)

School went on, same old, same old. The final bell rang and I was the first one to scurry my ass out of math class, my hand breaking away from Nate's. I gathered my books from my locker, glossing my lips with caramel flavored lip gloss. I dumped my phone, my math textbook, and my creative writing journal into my leather bag, along with a red pen and a pink hi-liter. When I slammed the locker door shut, there was a green post-it note stuck to the front of the door, right above the combination lock. The post it was hung crookedly, dangling by the left corner. I plucked it off and held it in my left hand, squinting at the small, messy print.