Chapter 3 - Don't move

1.1K 3 1
                                    

Alani's perspective

Throwing my sheets back and hauling myself from my sleep-state, I checked the alarm by my bedside.

7:10am

Perfect. For once I'm not late.

I stretched out my legs and shuffled over to the mirror lodged in corner of the box shaped room I called my own. Smacking my chapped lips together I mentally prepared.

Oh brother.

My hair was messily wound up on my head and my eyes were dull and grey. Purple bags hung beneath with no intention of removing themselves, meaning making it through this morning was going to be a difficult task in itself. I groaned with distaste and disappointment at my face. My oversized Rolling Stones top clung to my skin. Time to shower.

----------------------------------------------

Shaking the water out of cold damp mess of hair piled on top of my head, I went to find Aaron.

"Mum here?" I asked through a mouthful of bagel.

Aaron tossed me a look from beneath his boy-band hair cut that told me all I needed to know.

Our mother has a habit of working extra shifts at the local store, without telling us. We're always pretty tight for money since it was just the three of us, but it always left me worried. Aaron couldn't look after a cardboard box, let alone himself. What would he do if I left?

After sufficiently devouring the bagel, I returned to my room to get ready.

I pulled six bobbles out of my tangled hair and it spiralled down my back, thick as a rope and now even wilder.

This should be fun.

Ever since I was a kid, my hair had a severe habit of not doing what it's told. Kind of like me I guess. It's curly and messy and wild, springing out in all directions and occasionally volumised to the point at which I look like a white girl with an afro.

Quickly, I dressed in my ripped skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt and covered my face in a thin layer of makeup. It still amazes me what wonders a black line over my eyes can do. I pulled out my hair dryer and blasted the slowly forming mane on my head.

By the time I was done, it wasn't too bad. It had about halved in length and hung just below my shoulders in messy locks that stuck out with rogue curls. I glanced over at the clock once more.

7:53am

Shit. I wish I had time to straighten it.

It takes about 20 minutes to walk to school and I have to be there by 8:20.

Guess not.

After searching the entire house for lunch money, I brushed my teeth and pulled on my biker boots before whisking Aaron and myself out the door.

I stood up to Jesse McCalister. I can't believe it.

There was something in him that captivated me, something I can't explain.

The cool air hit me like a wall. It stung my mouth to breath in as the fresh mint of the tooth paste lingered on my tongue. It was luke-warm out, just the start of summer and my cable knitted long black cardigan kept me warm enough.

"What happened with Jesse?" Aaron mumbled, almost too quietly to hear beneath the sounds of revving motorbikes and the road-side arguments between the couples of our estate.

Jesse. What was it with that boy? I couldn't get him out of my head.

"It's fine Aaron, don't worry about it." I responded.

TurnWhere stories live. Discover now