Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was still dark out when Chris' arm emerged from beneath the cocoon of blankets that kept her comfortably trapped to her bed.
The annoying beep of her alarm blared sharp and loud in her ears, and for a moment she blindly slapped her hand down on her bedside dresser before finally making contact with the clock, shutting it up. She yanked the covers down from over her face, one eye screwed shut with sleep and the other blinking through the darkness.
4:25 am. Saturday. Hell morning.
A flash of light outside her window caught her attention. With a grimace, she watched a man climb out of the blocky truck parked in her driveway - the words 'DERRY HERALD' emblazoned on its side in a bold, curving script - and drop off a thick stack of freshly folded newspapers on her porch. As soon as he arrived, he drove a little farther down the street, disappearing from view.
With a groan, she reached over her dresser, turning on the lamp and squinting when its yellow-tinged light hit her eyes. Still groggy, she grabbed the walkman that sat on her nightstand, sending a stray pencil rolling to the floor in the process. She didn't know what cassette she plucked from her drawer as she popped it in, pulling her headphones over her nest of chestnut hair as she tossed the rest of her blanket off and letting it fall halfway down her bed.
Maneuvering through her room, The Smiths blared in her ears. Not bad, she thought, kicking an issue of some comic she couldn't quite see under her bed. Rifling through her desk's drawer, she pulled out a ball of rubber bands about the size of her palm, shoving it in her pocket along with the walkman. On the way out, she grabbed a large bag that lay slumped on the floor near the door, dragging it behind her.
Still in her baggy pajamas, she trod down the stairs, rubbing the rest of last night's sleep from her eyes. Her parents were still sound asleep in their room, her father's tell-tale snoring barely making its way past the door and down the hall. They wouldn't wake for another two hours.
She had been part of this routine since her 12th birthday last November, and she'd be coming up on her one year anniversary of being Derry's only papergirl in just another month. It wasn't all that bad, it paid well, and it wasn't hard. All she had to sacrifice was a few hours of sleep. Taking the stack of newspapers into her arms and shoving the door closed with a kick, she got to work.
4:29 am.
Normally, Chris was never in much of a rush. Her routes weren't going anywhere, and most everyone in the sleepy little town weren't up for the morning paper until 6 or 7 when all the grown ups were getting ready for their 9 to 5's. No one noticed - or cared - if she was late. Except maybe for Mr. Walton from the next street over, who always threatened to cancel his subscription without fail if she was so much a minute off of schedule. He never did.
But today was a race against time.
It was October, and Derry's rainy season was already in full swing. The flood warnings hadn't yet started, but give or take a week and the streets would practically be turned into a lake. And just outside, somewhere far off in the distance, were rolling storm clouds dark with rain. Chris was not about to bike home in the middle of that.
