Under the Influence

Chapter Three: Headed for Heartbreak

   I woke up from the most peaceful slumber I’ve had in… Well, the most peaceful slumber I’ve had. Period. A certain calmness settled over me, and for once, I wasn’t internally debating with myself over whether or not I should just get up or allow myself ten more minutes of rest. I always went with the first option because I knew ten minutes would turn into fifteen, and then twenty, and then I’d be late for school. And of course I didn’t want that to happen.

   But for some odd, unexplainable reason, I didn’t feel tired at all. It was strange. Strange like how on the weekdays or whenever I had to get up early, I felt the need to sleep in for hours longer, but on weekends when I woke up, I just woke up. Maybe I looked into things a bit too much. I always caught my mind wandering off to weird places in the early hours of the morning.

   Extending my arms as high as I could, I briefly glanced at the digital alarm clock sitting on my bedside table. I froze mid-stretch when I noticed the time. Ten minutes past eight. That left me with a mere twenty minutes to get ready and go to school.

   My morning didn’t seem so peaceful anymore.

   I rummaged through my closet and found a pair of simple blue jeans and a red t-shirt that had “Bazinga!” printed on it. I deemed the outfit acceptable enough (because really, when is it not a good day to wear a Big Bang Theory shirt?) and rushed to the bathroom with the pile of clothes in my arms. It was times like these when I appreciated my simple jeans-and-nerdy-shirt sense of style and patted myself on the back (mentally, of course, because my hands were full) for not being a high-maintenance fashionista like some people at school.

   I brushed my teeth and changed my clothes at the same time, which was much harder than I initially thought it’d be. When I was done, I hopped into the kitchen on one foot while trying to slip a sock on the other.

   Scott lowered his newspaper and peered over the top, watching me as amused curiosity flickered in his eyes. I glanced over at the coffee pot involuntarily as I continued to hop around in circles on one socked foot. The coffee pot was empty, but some of the coffee ground pooled at the bottom of the pot, letting me know that Scott already had his share of caffeine for the day.

    “Sleep well?” he asked, the corners of his mouth beginning to tug upwards in his usual grin.

   “Yeah, a little too well,” I replied hurriedly. Scanning the kitchen for something to eat, I spotted a plain piece of toast on a plate on the table in front of my brother. “You gonna eat that?” I didn’t even wait for him to answer before taking a massive bite.

   “Whoa, slow down or you’re gonna choke. I don’t think you want ‘Death by Toast’ engraved on your tombstone,” my brother teased. “What’s the rush?”

   “It’s 8:20!” I exclaimed.

   Scott checked his wristwatch. “Huh. It is. So?”

   “So? So it’s Monday! School starts in ten minutes!”

   “Want me to drive you?” he offered casually. He folded his newspaper back into a neat little square and stood up as if he already knew I was going to say yes.

   It took me about twenty minutes to walk to school, and twelve to run. That still wasn’t enough time, so I saw no other option than to have Scott drive me. “Um, yeah, thanks.”

   His only response was a brisk nod and a mischievous smirk. “Wait.”

   “What?” We needed to leave now. There was no time to dawdle!

   “You owe me now.”

   “That’s not fair! You offered!”

   “Sure it’s fair. Unless, of course, you’d rather run to school and hope to make it there on time.” His smirk broadened. Blackmail, huh? So he was using the fact that I didn’t have my own car to his advantage. He was clever, I had to give him that.