Ebony Wings

10

~Ali~

Eight days...

That is my first, sweat-soaking thought as Jaz's wake-up alarm shocks me out of sleep, the obtrusive wailing like needles through the grey morning. Rain streaks silvery lines diagonally across the foggy window pane, a small puddle of rainwater gathering on the sill where the window has been kept ajar through the night. Despite the cold, desolate morning venting through the crack in the window I push my duvet away, hot and bothered under the downy blanket.

After all the events of yesterday - the journey we began to embark on and the discoveries we intend to make - the prospect of something as normal as a Monday morning 9 am lecture has me grimacing into my chest - a waste of time when your life is on the balance.

Reaching over the side of the bed, I grope blindly for my phone. Feeling the cool glass slide under my fingers, I fish it upwards by the charging cable and light the screen. 8:30 am. I sigh and drop the phone beside me.

Looking out at the dark swirling skies and wishing one last time that I could just stay under the covers all day, tucked away in my protective duvet-burrito and forget about the world, I climb down the ladder on stiff legs. Jaz flips over in bed, the bedspread twisting with her body as she silences the alarm on her phone. I murmur a good morning and she turns her head away from me, grunting back - to be honest, one of the most friendly morning responses I have received yet.

I side-step the sofa, not surprised to see Jack sprawled out fast asleep, head buried in a pillow, his breaths muffled in the fine woollen fabric. Ethan lies curled in foetal position on the rug using one of the thin couch cushions as a lousy head-rest. I frown at the strange angle of his neck and his gently down-turned features in sleep. As if sensing the chill of the rain droning outside, he coils his body tighter, lips pursing slightly as the covers lie tangled around his hips. Torn between pulling myself together for the public eye or wiggling my way in between his arms for the rest of the morning (honestly I'm not sure where that thought came from) I compromise with myself and drag the blanket back over his goosebump-ridden body. I sigh, as if I were the one content and wrapped in a blanket now, content to see his is frown ease under the new warmth.

I slip into the adjoining bathroom, pulling the door closed quietly behind me and wince when I catch the side of my reflection in the mirror. I turn face on to the reflective glass, pulling down the sides of my lightly greasy face, hoping that the harsh LED lights are making it look worse than it is. Pale mauve pillows of sunken colour ring my eyes, the berry hues a stark contrast to my porcelain skin. Without even having to touch my hair, I can see how knotted the strands are as they fly out in unruly, tangled angles. A faint crease is imprinted across my cheekbone from where the pillow case pressed hard against my tired head. The overall effect is very unappealing and a reminder of my fragile mortality; the weakness that is my body, an insecurity that has began developing since our new company.

Desperate to resurrect some life into my face, I spray a handful of icy tap water over my freckled skin and dab it dry with a hand towel. I jostle around my make up bag, searching desperately for my touche éclat and smear two thick lines of the concealing makeup under my eyes and inner eyelids, dabbing it into my skin until it becomes invisible. Unable to find my own hairbrush, I use Jaz's sitting by the sink and work tirelessly through the most severe tangles. Looking mildly better - and I use the term 'mildly' loosely - I shuffle over to Jaz and gently shake her into a functioning state.

"Come on Jaz, we are going to be late," I plead and shove her shoulder again. "I know you're awake, idiot." She protests like a petulant toddler and flails her body under the covers. After a few dramatic seconds she stops thrashing and the duvet expels a breath of air from its feather-stuffed body as she relaxes.