tired yet? ||cashby||

Chapter 4

When I woke up in the morning, it was nearly 11 o'clock! I almost always woke up earlier, but I guess last night had tired me out a bit. Sitting up, I stretched my arms out, and let all my joints crack. Memories of last night flooded through my mind, and I grinned a little, shaking my head.

After sliding out of bed, I looked into the mirror, and tried to feel okay about who was staring back at me. Sometimes, things from before dragged me down, and I hated the way it felt. How are we supposed to separate the past from the present? I didn't want to be who I was. I didn't want the me from 6 months ago to be what I saw in my reflection. So I zipped a sweatshirt over myself and walked upstairs, doing my best to hold my head high. As soon as I saw my family (besides Michael, who was asleep in the tent), I dropped the façade and lowered my eyes to the ground. They all thought I was an idiot, I knew that. No one said anything to me as I scurried to the coffee maker and poured myself a mug of it. After adding that special caramel flavored creamer that I had a deep love for, I took it with me and went outside, where the summer morning sun was spilling on everything. It was one of those perfect days where all of the clouds disappeared behind the sky, leaving a clean, bright blue slate and one dazzling sun.

Sighing, I sat down cross legged and sipped at the coffee. I knew I was definitely too young to love coffee so much, but there was a little part of me that didn't care how much it stunted my growth, or would give me yellow teeth if I kept on drinking it like this. I was told to enjoy the little things in life, especially when the big things weren't running to my satisfaction. I figured that being an avid coffee drinker fit under the category of Little Things.

For a long time, I just sat there, trying to think of things that would make me smile, when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't turn around, though, because I knew I'd feel disappointed if it wasn't Austin. There was just something about him that made me feel... okay. Why are all my thoughts cliché and horrible? Without too much difficulty, I imagined myself with a broom, sweeping all the negativity away.

"Hey." It was him, and I smiled softly. Austin sat next to me, his clothes and hair rumpled too the extreme.

"Hi." I didn't look him in the eye, because that was a problem area for me. I wasn't sure what to say, so I just drank and stared out at our front yard.

"Thanks again for hanging out last night," he said it so quietly, and I nodded graciously. I had no idea why he was thanking me, but went along with it.

"No problem," I murmured.

"What're you drinking?" he asked, peering into my blue mug.

"Coffee."

"Can I have some?" he asked, as if it were completely normal to ask for a sip of a drink from someone who wasn't your immediate family or best friend. Trying not to smile that big goofy grin, I handed it to him.

"Go for it." He wrapped his long, thin fingers around the mug, looping a few around its handle, and tipped it to his lips. His throat made that swallowing noise, and, for a moment, he was so human. For a moment, so was I. And we sat, just two humans, passing the mug of hot coffee back and forth in between broken strands of small conversation and little murmurs in agreement.

•••

Austin had gone home after hanging out with Michael for a few hours, along with all of his other friends. To be honest, I didn't have knowledge of any of their names. I thought I heard one calling the other Josh, and maybe one called Patrick, but other than that, I just had no idea. They all kind of acted the same, and treated me like a little kid. Except Austin.

Stop thinking about him, my Voice of Reason commanded. After he was gone, I started to feel sad and gross again, so I curled up in bed and listened to music. Music was a really cool little thing, I thought, because it was always there for me. I didn't need to worry about trusting it. So, all wrapped up in a comforter, I slipped a mixed tape into my laptop. It was one that used to belong to Michael, so some of the keys were broken, and the screen had a few lines on it that just wouldn't go away, but it made that lovely heat, and warmed up my entire bed for me. Sometimes, I just closed my eyes and pretended it was a furnace, and listened to sweet music flow through my body, letting all the relaxed feelings take over. I couldn't do that a lot, because my mind loved to run on forever with thoughts. It seemed like each idea that flew through my mind had another tied to it, like those endless colorful scarfs that magician pull from their sleeves.