Breathe Me

I woke up hours later, and my back felt like it had been impaled. I groaned when I finally stood up and felt the full damage that I had done by sleeping on that couch. How long was I out? It was dark, but the sky had a tint of blue to it.. it was beautiful to me. I stumbled into the kitchen and my eyes flew to the obnoxious green numbers on the built-in clock that the microwave had.
4:47 AM.
“Wonderful..” I muttered under my breath. How I had managed to sleep for more than twelve hours, I had no idea. My father would normally wake me up, and tell me to go upstairs. He must have gotten in late and not even realized I was sleeping on the couch. I leaned against the counter, my elbows holding me up, and I threw my head back. I wondered how exhausted my poor dad must be. He works so many hours, and if he's not working, he's doing paper work. On top of that, he's got a seventeen year old daughter to worry about.. not that there was anything to worry about. I was always a calm and responsible child, I never caused any problems. My smoking would have bothered him, though, I reminded myself.
Bothered? I chuckled a little. Bothered would be a blessing. He would go absolutely insane if he knew I smoked. Of course he had the most valid reason in the world.
It didn't matter. He'd never find out.
I groaned and stretched, my arms above my head, my back arching enough so that my ribs stuck out beneath my olive skin. I exhaled and trudged up the stairs, to my bathroom. I had decided to waste as much time as possible. I had almost two hours to kill.
I took the most amazing shower ever, not even bothering to really clean myself. I washed my hair and lathered my body with soap, and then I just stood there until the water started getting cold. It washed away all the kinks in my neck. I put my hands against the wall, facing away from the shower head, and hunched over. I let the hot water pour down my back and loosen my muscles. When I finally stepped out, the room was like a sauna. I grabbed my bathrobe and threw it around myself. Then I searched my huge bathroom for my blow dryer, which I finally found underneath the sink. I spent a long time blow drying my hair until it shimmered and was soft and straight, framing my face. Once I was done, I practically skipping to my bedroom, and then into my walk in closet.
The outfit I chose was boring. A pair of dark washed jeans, a soft form fitting blue tee shirt, and a white pair of sneakers. My jewelry was the usual. A necklace from my mother, my four rings, and bangles. I thought make up was a waste of time, but I threw on some mascara. My idea of lip gloss was my favorite cherry flavored Chap Stick. I deemed my reflection presentable, mumbling “Good as it gets..” before I walked downstairs into the kitchen. My father was seated at the small circular table, a newspaper in his hands.
“Morning Blair bear,” he sounded relaxed and I felt relieved. I kept imagining his voice would be strained, tortured.. it gave me the worst feeling. But I was happy that he seemed content.
I chuckled at the nickname. “Good morning dad. Sleep well?”
“Absolutely. Yourself?”
I pondered the question, then decided lying was best. No reason to make him feel bad. “Fine.”
“You have to get going soon, school starts in twenty minutes. I printed you out directions,” his head nodded to a white paper in the middle of the table. “Your car is in the garage, and your keys are in the ignition. Blair,” he looked at me sternly “no speeding.”
Honestly, you get ONE ticket and your father never forgets it.
Suddenly I was eager to get out of the kitchen. I chugged down some orange juice, kissed my dad on the cheek, grabbed my directions, and trotted out to the garage.
My black Nissan Altima was indeed in the garage, as promised. I hadn't been in my car in a week, when my dad had drove it down here himself and dropped it off. My car was my pride and joy, my sixteenth birthday gift. I loved it more than anything. When I hopped in my driver's seat, I felt the familiar leather and was overcome with joy. I hoped this was a sign that today would be good.
I lied to myself the whole way there, listening to the voice in my head fib and fib. Deep down I was a total pessimist, but I tried to play it off with the occasional fake optimism. It wasn't hard to find the school, because it was pretty much huge. About the same size as my school in California. As I drifted out of my car and down the parking lot, I wondered about my old school. What my friends were doing now, how things were.. it didn't make me as sad as it did anxious. Slowly the pessimist in the bottom of my chest was clawing it's way up, breaking my seemingly calm surface.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I practically jogged up the steps to the front doors. I needed to get out of this cold weather. A few kids were in the halls, and I assumed I was early. Some of them leaned against the lockers, others were congregated in the middle of the hall. Some of them looked up at me, but then returned to their conversations. I was never easily intimidated, but I didn't like the idea of cliques. I wondered if I'd be accepted as I took a left, following the sign that said “Office.” on the wall.
The office was a huge bright room. It smelled like pencils and new paper. All of the secretaries were busy on the phones, and I decided to take a seat on one of the four chairs that lined the back wall. Two seats away from me, a small freshman cradled his books to his chest with one arm, and clutched an inhaler in the other hand. I let out a comforting chuckle at his tense look. He turned to me and raised his eyebrows.
“Hi, I'm Freddie.” His voice was obviously prepubescent, and I smiled at the stereotypical vibe to it all.
“Hey Freddie, I'm Blair,” I gave him my nicest grin, the one that was most personable. He nodded curtly and spoke.
“Yeah, the new kid, right?”
“Mm, that's right.”
“How are you liking it so far?”
I didn't worry about hurting his feelings, or insulting his beloved school. He wasn't exactly draping the school symbol all over him or sporting the colors. I assumed he was pretty laid back and kept my answer honest. “Umm, it's not so bad. It seems..clique-ish, though.” I added. He nodded and smiled.
“You have no idea,” was his reply, and he scooted over to the seat right next to me. “So, getting your schedule?” He asked me. I nodded.
“What are you in here for, though?”
“Oh..” he blushed a little, and an embarrassed look claimed his face. “Well, my teachers claim I'm ADVANCED,” his tone was sarcastic and he raised his hands to make quotations marks around the word, “but really I just have no life and read a lot of books.” He grinned. “I'm getting my schedule changed. My math teacher wants me in Trig.”
He was so modest, but I was impressed. “Trig? Wow, and you're only like, what? Fifteen?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we'll be in the same class,” I laughed softly.
“Haha, perhaps! Tell me, what're you nervous about for today?”
“I guess I'd have to say lunch,” I admitted. “I don't have anyone to sit with.”
“Sit with me, then! It works out perfect. Since I'm getting my schedule changed, I'm getting put in the juniors lunch. There's some system it goes by, and I won't have anyone to sit with either.. that's why I looked so..skittish when you walked in.” His tone was warm and his eyes were kind. I smiled back.
“That's great. Save me a seat, okay?”
“Yeah, of course. You can't miss me. I'll be the kid two feet shorter than everyone else.” We both chucked, and just then one of the secretaries slammed her phone down and said in a hard voice “Can I help someone?” She didn't SOUND very helpful.
Freddie looked at me and gestured to her with his chin. “Ladies first. I'll wait for the other old bat to finish her phone call.”
I laughed. “Thanks Freddie. See you in lunch.”
I stood up and walked over to the desk, eager to get my hands on my schedule. I truly hoped I had trig with Freddie. Maybe he could even help me with homework.. I smiled at the thought.
I gave her my name, and she grunted a reply. Her fast, old, wrinkled fingers hovered over the keyboard, punching in the letters at an agonizing slow pace. She finally pushed her wheelie chair away from the desk to the printer, wheeled herself back, and handed me my schedule. She didn't have to speak. Her eyes said “Dismissed.” and I scurried out of the room, with one last glance at my freshman friend.
I liked Freddie from that day forward. He was very awkward, true, but I could tell he was lovable all the same.