Dan Western Stole My Girlfriend

Coming home from school on Thursday, I was met with my mother waving the letter that Mr Hamilton sent explaining about the detentions I was going to start the next week in my face. Of course, my parents already knew I had the detentions but it still didn’t stop Mum from getting mad all over again that I punched Dan. Apparently, Dan’s mother had got in contact as soon as received her matching letter, and let’s just say that Dan’s parents weren’t all that happy about him having detention either.

Mum was already dressed in her work uniform, so she couldn’t yell at me for too long before she had to leave for her waitressing job at Mr Kingsley’s (a local bistro-style restaurant owned by, you guessed it, Mr Kingsley). She gave it her best shot though, and managed to get in nearly 15 minutes of yelling before she rushed out the door.

Once she left, I was finally able to go into my bedroom to dump my backpack and take my shoes off, before I wandered out into the kitchen for a glass of water. I sat on the kitchen bench and scrolled aimlessly through my phone while I drank. I could hear the faint sound of music coming from the garage, which I decided to investigate once I finished my water.

Walking through the door that connected the garage to the rest of the house, my eyes fell on my little sister Willow, who was sitting on a mat on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her and her head resting on her knees. She was wearing a leotard with tracksuit pants on the bottom and her blonde hair was up in a tight bun.

I leaned against the door frame and watched her as she lifted her head slowly off her knees, and then bent one leg underneath so she was sitting on it before bringing her head down again to touch her nose to the knee of the still outstretched leg. She held that position for about 30 seconds before sitting up again and finally noticing me standing there.

“Oh,” she said, startled.

“Hey Wills,” I said, sending her a small smile.

“I heard Mum yelling just before. Are you alright?” she asked as she shifted her position into a split, with her left leg in front and her right leg behind. I winced as I watched her, knowing how much that would kill me if I tried it. My balls ached just thinking about it, and not in the good way, either.

I sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. She’s just mad I punched Dan, that’s all. She’ll get over it.”

“Why did you? Punch Dan, I mean,” Willow asked as she swapped her legs over so that her right leg was out in front in the split.

“Holly dumped me for him and he was being a dick about it. I couldn’t stand it anymore so I thought it would shut him up.”

“Did it work?”

“No,” I grumbled. “I just got him on detention with me, which means I have to spend more time with him.”

Willow giggled at my answer, but sobered up quickly once my eyes narrowed. “Sorry Ave, I guess it’s got to be hard for you to see them together. But hitting someone isn’t going to solve anything.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I know. Thanks Mum,” I said, rolling my eyes and smiling a little so she would know I wasn’t upset or anything. I looked around the garage and my eyes landed on a trophy cabinet standing against one of the walls, which was nearly completely full of shiny gold trophies. “Do you have any comps coming up?”

Willow is an extremely talented ballet dancer and has won a lot of competitions. She goes to a Performing Arts high school, which is why she gets home from school at a different time to me, and takes three afternoon classes a week at a very prestigious ballet school. Our parents even transformed half of our garage into a space for her to practice in on the days she doesn’t have classes. I just know she’s going to go far with her dancing.

Willow shook her head. “Not for a while. There’s one coming up in like June or July though, I think,” she replied. “Are you going to come?”

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it. I’ll let you get on with your practice,” I said, and left the garage, closing the door behind me.

I spent a very boring afternoon doing my homework and studying for a Maths test that was coming up. Dad came home from work at around 7:30 pm with a couple of pizzas for dinner, but I found I wasn't very hungry. My weight always fluctuates when I'm having problems with my anxiety and I guess this time it was going to go down. I only ate two slices of pizza before I felt completely full and excused myself from the table, picking up my empty plate and putting it in the sink and then headed to my bedroom.

Once in there with the door closed, I picked my guitar off its stand and brought it over to my bed, where I sat down and placed the guitar comfortably on my lap. Just holding the instrument made me feel calm. It always has. Knowing that I have the power to let my feelings flow through my hands to create beautiful music has always had a calming effect on me. It’s the main thing I turn to when I find life too hard to cope with.

I started to pluck the strings, not playing anything in particular, just experimenting with the sound. I've tried writing songs before but I found that I could never write anything as meaningful as I would like, at least not in comparison to songs written by others. Making up tunes is much easier than trying to put my feelings into lyrics.

After a few minutes of making up my own thing, my tune morphed into the opening chords of ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls. I played the song, softly singing the lyrics, all the way through, as it’s one of my favourites, and then I decided to have an early night. It was only about 8:30, but since I hadn't slept through the night once since Holly left me, I was pretty exhausted. It was like my internal body clock had an alarm set to around 4 am every morning and it was driving me slowly insane. Thinking about it in retrospect, it was probably why I ended up snapping and punching Dan in the first place.

I wished that I had some sleeping pills to help me get some much-needed rest, but my mother is really weird about sleeping medication after reading some article once about someone who died from taking a particular brand of it. Plus, I've heard that depression and anxiety can be side effects and I really need some more anxiety in my life. Not. So pretty much, sleeping pills were a no-go, and therefore, an early night was really the only thing I could try.

I stood up to put my guitar back on its stand before I stripped down to my boxers and got into bed. It took me ages to fall asleep. Every time I got close to feeling like I was about to finally get some rest, my body decided that it needed to be shifted into a different position, and by the time I moved into that position, I was wide awake again. Coupled with random twitches and hot flashes, I had an absolutely terrible night. Sleeping seemed to be gradually becoming more and more difficult since all this stuff with Dan and Holly started and I really hated it.

When I finally did manage to fall asleep, I dreamed that I was jogging down a very cracked footpath. There didn't seem to be any end in sight, just a monotonous path that went nowhere. Every now and again I’d have to jump over a crack that was wider than the rest, some that could easily have swallowed me up if I fell down them. I didn't know what I was running from but I knew I had to get away from it. A few times, I looked back to find out if whatever the thing was, was gaining on me, but I could never see it, only feel it. My running sped up as I felt the thing get closer, and that was when I became sloppy and tripped, falling into one of the gaping crevices in the footpath. I fell, tumbling down a black hole, knowing that when I hit the bottom I would surely die. I fell and fell until I finally saw the ground. I prepared for my death, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting for the impact. It never came.

My eyes flew open as I groaned tiredly. I almost didn't want to look at the clock, but it was a routine for me. Dream about tripping on footpaths, wake up, look at clock. The same thing every morning. And speaking of morning, my clock read 1 am. One o-fucking-clock. I was frustrated in myself. I spend most of the time between 8:30 pm and 1 am tossing and turning, and when I finally managed to fall asleep, I have the footpath dream straight away. Cheers, brain. Appreciate it.

While mumbling swear words under my breath, I contemplated trying to sleep again, but as usual, I deemed it useless and picked up my laptop from beside the bed, where I left it last time I finished using it. After pulling up my YouTube playlist, I plugged my headphones in and started to watch.

I felt absolutely dead by the time I had to get up for my shower and breakfast. I was really getting sick of this.