Good Things I'll Never Do Again

Nine: School Shmool

 "I like long walks. Especially taken by people who annoy me."

~Fred Allen

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 I get up at 6:30 the next day. Not because Aimee told me that I needed to wake up earlier than ten o'clock, but because I can't sleep and Jemma is an insane snorer.

Also because Dusty didn't fall asleep until midnight. Also because today I have to take the girls to school. Also because I'm secretly terrified. All in all, I got maybe about...two hours.

I clamber out of bed. This is the earliest I've woken up since I was birthed at 5 a.m. twenty-seven years ago.

I don't even bother putting on real clothes and opt to stay in my pajamas. It's all I can do not to fall headlong down the stairs as one word repeats in my mind: coffee, coffee, coffee.

I finally reach the coffee pot, scrambling for a mug like an addict in search of another hit.

After I pour myself a cup, I rest both elbows on the table and sink down to take a sip. The life-giving liquid warms my chest, yet I still feel the insurmountable desire to go back to bed.

I'm imagining crawling back into the covers, but a scream interrupts the reverie.

I flinch and accidentally splash hot coffee onto my chin.

I growl before heading upstairs.

I don't get far before Jemma almost rams into me on the way up, her blue hair sticking up every way imaginable.

"What do I wear?!" she shouts.

"I dunno, but clothes would be preferable," I mumble.

"My black shirt isn't here!" she explains, making a different expression other than frowning for the first time. It was one of panic. Refreshing. "And my other black one with the black sparkles is wrinkled!"

"Well, what about the other black one?" I suggest. "Or maybe the black one."

She scowls before running up the stairs.

I yawn and knock on Eloise's door, but, of course, she's already up, with everything packed in her lavender backpack.

Dusty, on the other hand, is still asleep.

I jostle her awake and she lashes out to hit me.

"Hey!" I cry, dodging just in time. "You need to get up!"

"No!"

I inch closer and shove her hip.

"Stop!" she screeches.

"It's time for school, you little rat!"

"I wanna sleep!"

"Uh, yeah, me too!" I scoff. Was this the same kid I was reading stories to last night?

"I'm not getting up," she grumbles into her pillow.

"We have five minutes to get you out of here!" I try to reason.

"No!"

I growl a complaint before grabbing Dusty's ankles and attempting to pull her off the bed.

She grabs onto the bedpost for dear life, howling like a cat that just got her tail stepped on.