Synonyms For Better

Chapter 6 - Overthinking 101

I STOOD IN THE large space between the backdoor leading to the backyard and the entrance of the living room. Tucking the not-really-a-fortune-cookie message into my pant's pocket for later, I rolled up my sleeves, ready to transform the space in front of me. 

Aunt Cheryl followed soon after, but not before setting up a pitcher of cool strawberry lemonade and some cups on the table nearby, in case we needed a refresher. 

And garden away we did, bringing life to a previously empty space. Together, we carefully potted small basil plants and then hung a long trailing flower plant from hooks we attached to the walls. We arranged the plant pots neatly, in a row on the ground and then aesthetically on the tables. We watered them as well while Aunt Cheryl caught me up on the latest gossip (which happened to be about two of her elder friends getting closer after bonding over bunion surgery; yeah, I know). 

Our indoor garden was all set up, and we stood back to admire it as we sipped on our cool strawberry lemonade. "Alright, Cherry," I said, finishing my drink and letting my aunt take the empty cup, "I'll be upstairs if you need me." 

"And I'll be in the kitchen if you need me, 'kay?" she asked. She gave me knowing look. "If you want to go out just ask me, alright? I'll give you the keys, or I can drive you there if you want me to. I just don't want you wallowing up inside the house, Cora. It's not good for you, and your mom will have my head, thinking I've held you captive here."

I shrugged playfully. "What can I say? My biology textbooks are calling my name."

Aunt Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Those mitochondria thingies can wait."

"But the protein synthesis and thermoregulation can't," I called over my shoulder, hiding a grin as I walked to the staircase. 

"Protein synthesis," she mimicked, and I laughed. 

Once on the stairs, however, I quickly pulled out the little fortune cookie message paper. 

Examining the paper yet again, I slowly trekked up the stairs, finally ending up at my room. I opened the already ajar door, walking to the bed, and fell back on it. I held up the paper so that the natural afternoon light from the window hit it, making the paper glow slightly blue. 

An adventure awaits you just beyond your comfort zone.

What type of adventure? Would it turn me into a new, better, more fierce person, or would it make me realize that I should perhaps just stick to the books and online word games and choking on air?

I was pondering this deeply, making my brain hurt as I wondered if this was some sort of message from the universe to take action and change myself immediately, when suddenly— 

"Whoa. Can I...help you?" 

At first I thought it was the universe's voice resounding in my head, responding to my thoughts, so I started to hold my breath, waiting for it to continue. But then the familiarity of the voice made me startle, and I shot straight up into a sitting position, scrambling to get a hold onto the shiny grey bed spread. 

Wait, grey? My bed spread was pink. I looked around and noticed the fact that this was very much not my room.

And of course, to my absolute horror, I saw none other the one and only Finn Ryder leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, watching amusedly like there was Peppa Pig playing on TV or something. 

"No," I gasped, "I don't need help." I was blabbering. "That is, we don't— I'm sorry. I swear, I thought this was my room. I really didn't mean to, like, jump into your bed like it was mine. I promise I wasn't, like rolling around in it—"