NECROMANTIC

eight.

You know when you're sitting in front of a computer, staring at the screen, where an open, empty word document is, watching the little line flash in and out of existence, willing your brain to think, willing your fingers to go to the keyboard and begin to type?

Well that was me, right now, on a Thursday night, with a not-yet-even-started English essay due tomorrow, first period.

It wasn't like this was something I did regularly - actually, I was pretty good, especially when it came to English, at not only doing my essays, but doing them with at least a day to spare before the deadline. Even Biology ones! But no. Tonight, I was watching that stupid line blink, and growing more and more frustrated with my inability to even known how to begin writing the essay on the roles of females in the plays The Homecoming and Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?

I groaned, pushing my face into my hands.

I stayed like that for a few moments, before reaching over and switching my iPod off, cutting off the My Chemical Romance song just as Gerard Way grandly declared 'graaaavity don't mean too much to meee'. I thought about going and making myself a snack, or maybe a sandwich, or maybe both, before deciding that that was the best idea I'd had all day, and getting up to my feet. Hey, maybe it'd help jump start my creative thinking, too.

Who are you, Spongebob from that episode where he had to write a paper on what he learned in boating school?

My creative thinking unfortunately did not get a jump start, during, or after I made my barbecue tofu sandwich and grabbed a flapjack and a can of coke, but hey, at least I had food. So I grumpily sat back down at my desk, slammed my laptop screen shut, hiding the stupid fucking blank word document, and took a big bite of my sandwich. I was halfway done when my phone chimed with an incoming call, Mae's name and picture popping up on the screen, and I hit answer without hesitation.

"Please, please tell me you're having as much a sucky time as I am trying to write the essay for English." I said, before Mae could even say 'hi'.

"Um ... no." she said, her voice confused.

"Oh, no, Mae, please don't tell me you've done it!"

"...No." she paused for only a second, before clearly deciding that she long enough and she didn't want to get interrupted again. "We don't have to do the essay. Remember? Dyer told us in the last lesson that she wasn't going to be in tomorrow, for some pregnancy scan, or something, and she wasn't gonna bother getting us a sub, so we could just leave it. Don't you ... remember? Her saying that?"

"Oh," I said, and was filled with an almost euphoric sense of relief. "No, I don't. I must've been zoned out."

I most likely was - I had been most of the week. Given that I got so little sleep since ... frog-gate, or crow-gate, or general oh-shit-oh-fuck-I-raised-the-dead-gate, I found myself drifting off, literally falling asleep on my feet, or sitting with my eyes open. That was why the essay hadn't been done sooner. Though, now that I knew we didn't need to hand it in, I was pretty glad I hadn't actually done it all for nothing.

"And pregnancy scan? What?" I continued.

"So you zoned out when Dyer told us the delightful news that she's knocked up, too, huh?" Mae said, and I could almost hear her shaking her head, in her tone. "Yeah. Isn't that so gross? That she's, what, like mid-forties, and she's gonna push a baby out of her-"

"Uh." I said quickly, before Mae could finish her sentence. "Yeah, weird. So ... you called. Any specific reason, or?"

"Why does there have to be a reason?" Mae asked me, and this time, I could hear the raised eyebrow. I knew she'd have her best sassy face on now, too. "There always has to be a reason for calling, with you. You know, that's the wonderful thing with phones now being more accessible, and teenagers having one of their very own, Sarah. Sometimes, instead of like in the olden days when it was, like, a prized possession, phones can be used to call for just the hell of it, just to chat, talk, rant, converse, gossip, natter-"

"Ok, I get it. Doesn't have to be a reason. Ok." I rolled my eyes.

"You know, I can almost hear you rolling your eyes at me right now." Mae said.

Sometimes we were so alike, it was freaky.

"Anyway ..." Mae cleared her throat, and the tone she spoke with next was somewhat sheepish. "This time, there actually does happen to be a reason. Just this once."

To be honest, I wasn't surprised. It was a very Mae thing to do, going off on a rant about something, only to then backtrack moments later. So I held back my sigh, and calmly asked "And what is that reason?"

"First of all, I want you to feel very, very sorry for poor me, because Obaa-chan Yoshida, Aunt Sora and my darling cousin Karin are currently staying with us until tomorrow." Mae began, letting out her best long-suffering sigh. And I did feel sorry for Mae. Her mother's mother, Grandma (or to use the traditional Japanese title, Obaa-chan - and with her, you were to always use the traditional Japanese title) Yoshida was a formidable and strict woman, who barley spoke English, and when she did, it was clipped and snappy, and who never smiled. She was pretty far from the cuddly grandma type. Sora was Mae's mother's sister, and was one of those people that strived to be their mother's favourite, a younger version of Obaa-chan Yoshida, but one that spoke more English. And then there was Karin. Fourteen years old, and more annoying than I'm able to put into words. She was a mummy's girl, and a Obaa-chan's girl, too, sucking up to them and playing up the little miss sweetness role in front of them, and a little shit to just about everyone else. The girl exuded arrogance and superiority with every eye roll, snort, hair flick and smug smile. I'd met the three a few times, when Mae had brought me along to family gatherings, or dinners, and those few times were more than enough. The very first time, in fact, Obaa-chan Yoshida had made her dislike of me evident as she'd ignored my polite greeting, snorting and waving her hand as she'd barked 'silly American girl,'. To think Mae was related to them, and had to deal with them a lot more ... yeah, I felt for my best friend.

"Oh jeez, Mae, you poor thing." I clucked in sympathy.

"Yeah, tell me about it." She said with a small groan. "But aside from that ... there is some good news in this. When they go back tomorrow, they've invited mom, dad, Kota and Rena to stay for the weekend. I got out of it by making up some bullshit excuse that I have a big test on Monday, thank god. Dad saw through it, though, but he's more impressed than pissed. I actually think he's envious, ha. But anyway, yeah ... he said I can have you, and a couple others around, as long as we clean up and don't break anything. Sooo..."

"Your place, tomorrow evening. Gotcha." I said.

Mae let out a little whoop. "Bring scary movies. Y'know, the really bad B-movie type, like the newest My Bloody Valentine, or the entire Paranormal Activity series? Something so bad it's good, that'll make us jump. Snacks. An extra pillow or something. Ooh, and some booze. Not fussy there."

"Uh ... ok." I kinda wanted to laugh at Mae calling it 'booze'. I'd never heard actually heard someone who referred to it like that legitimately.

"Ok! Yay! I'm gonna have to go now, seeing as I dodged out of family dinner to make this call by saying I had to go to the toilet, and I don't want them to think I'm doing a number two..."

"Ok, yeah, bye."

"Byeeee! Oh, and tell Rob!" and with that, she hung up.

I sat for a moment, before finishing my sandwich, and flapjack, opened up my laptop, clicked the 'x' at the top of the word document with glee, shut my laptop down and threw myself back onto my bed, crossing my arms, and draping them across my face. I felt good, about the whole not having to do the essay thing, but ... but my stomach felt tight. Anxious. Like it was preparing itself for a punch.

Or was filled with dread.

I tried to let the feeling pass, and when it didn't, I pushed myself back up into a sitting position with a groan, hugging my arms to my stomach. Then, with another, softer, more pathetic groan, I grabbed my phone and dialled Rob's number, knowing that he would definitely make me feel better, and then, maybe, the feeling would go.