Leap of Faith

Day Seven

I woke up feeling like I had been slapped in the face by a dodgeball and knocked out by a gym floor, which was pretty standard seeing as I had been whacked in the face by a dodgeball and concussed by the flooring in the gym. I also feel like I had made a fool of myself either in front of Chris or TJ… or both, for that matter. I don’t really remember much after Landon used me to hide behind.

I was still tangled up in my comforter at nine am and I groaned when I saw that time. Not only did I have a throbbing headache, a bruised cheek and a feeling of embarrassment building up inside me, but I was also late for school.

I forced myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. While the shower warmed, I took stock of my appearance in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw. My hair looked as if a bird had nested in it overnight and my eyes were red and puffy. There was a definite trace of a bruise on my right cheek and it looked a little swollen and tender compared to the other side of my face. I contemplated touching it, but then I remembered how much of a wuss I am when it comes to pain.

Even though I knew I was late for school, I didn’t rush to get ready. I basked in the warmth of the shower and massaged the shampoo into my hair, screaming silently when my fingers traced over the lump at the back of my head. I washed out the soapy lather and moved on to the conditioning mask that my mom made me do at least once a week. As a family of red-heads, Mom made sure our locks looked as good as possible. According to her, there was only one thing worse than having red hair, and that was having dull red hair.

Today, I decided to dress and look in a way that matched how I felt, which is why I twisted my wet red hair into a knot and didn’t even apply my usual lashing of mascara. I looked sick, almost like death, but like I said- at least I looked exactly how I felt. I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, found a vintage The Clash tour shirt and flung a zip up hoodie over my shoulders. With my trusted Vans on my feet, I made my way down to the kitchen where Mom and Libby sat with a woman I didn’t recognize.

“Hey, Mom,” I greet my mother with a smile. “Just grabbing breakfast to go and then I’m going to school.”

“Ok, sweetie,” she replies in that monotone voice she employs when she’s replying to something and she hasn’t been listening. “That’s great news.”

I find some granola bars in the back of the cupboard and pour myself a glass or orange juice. I’m not a breakfast person so this was enough fuel for me until lunch time, but I could just imagine what my mother if she saw what I was eating. When Mom was on her parenting A-Game, she loved to boss me around and remind me that she knew better what was good for me. For example, breakfast is good but an unhealthy or limited breakfast was bad. I thought she should just be thankful that I’m eating at all before midday.

“Is this one of your bridesmaids?” The woman sat next to Libby asked.

“Yes,” Libby smiles proudly. She motions me over, and having learnt not to get on Libby’s pregnancy induced bad side, I dutifully head over to the living room. “This is my youngest sister, Catherine. Cate, I’d like you to meet Vivian Prescott, my wedding planner.”

 “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Prescott,” I say to her, double checking her ring finger to see that I haven’t offended her.