The Kids Aren't Alright

Chapter 25: Finn

I keep the curtains above my bed slightly parted so that most mornings around six, sunlight streams through the windows and spills across my face, gently waking me up. Keyword: most. Some mornings, I'm woken up— not very gently— by my complaining roommate. (He likes to forget that I, unlike him, have a normal sleeping cycle.) Today, fortunately, the sun wakes me up before Ronan gets the chance. Bright sunlight seeps through my eyelids, turning them a translucent orange, and above my head the oak tree creaks and groans like it's waking up, too.

I stretch my arms out above my head and pull my muscles taunt, cracking a few joints as I forcibly tug my exhaustion away. The hands on my wristwatch are barely scraping six, but I can already tell that it's going to be a long day. It's always a long day at Lightlake.

I slip out of bed and go to change into my running clothes and sneakers. Last night was truly miserable. I was so charged up after my fight with Ronan that I couldn't fall asleep for hours, and when I finally did, I was plagued by nightmares for hours. The leftover adrenaline in my veins feels like static.

I just need to go for a run, that's all. Hit the trails. Clear my head. I always feel better when my blood is pumping.

I'm rummaging through my drawers to find my windbreaker (it's still pretty chilly outside) when Ronan finally wakes up. He looks even more disgruntled than usual, and his black spikes of hair seem sharp enough to cut diamond.

"Long night?" I ask. It's the first thing I've said to him since my rejected apology, and it feels weird coming off my tongue. Last night we were practically at each other's throats, and now we're exchanging pleasantries. It's so casual. Way too casual.

"Not too long," Ronan grumbles. "Your mother kept me company."

"Very funny. You know that my mom lives in Indiana, right?"

"Don't worry. I made sure she flew first-class on the way here."

"As if. My mom wouldn't even give you the time of day."

"That's not what she said last night...."

I roll my eyes at him as I tug my windbreaker on over my shoulders. "You're such an asshole in the morning."

"Going running again? Don't forget to say hello to your girlfriend for me!"

"Becca isn't my girlfriend."

"That's funny. I don't remember saying her name."

I scowl at him. "Stay out of it. This isn't any of your business."

"I know. Here's my unsolicited advice: stop thinking about her. Becca Fisher is more more trouble than she's worth."

This doesn't constitute a response, so I don't give him the pleasure of receiving one; I just wave at him and walk out the door, making sure the hinges stick in the open position so that he can either get out of bed and shut it, or freeze under his sheets.

I didn't give Ronan the wrong size shirt on purpose, but sometimes I wish I did. 

***

When I hit the trails, it's only a matter of time before I run into Becca. She usually starts running at the same time that I do (I've tried leaving earlier and later, but she always find me nevertheless), and most of the trails merge into each other around the lake anyways. Resistance is futile— I just can't find a way to avoid her, so I've mainly stopped trying.

I know she's approaching once I hear the sound of tennis shoes smacking against the dirt behind me. Becca might have a glorious stride, but all of her steps are so angry, like she's trying to exact personal vengeance against the ground. I speed up, hoping to put some distance between us, but her footsteps only grow closer. This girl is never going to leave me alone, I think wearily. I slow down and let her catch up to me.