A/N AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
APOLOGIES/// THIS CHAPTER IS UBER SHORT. sowwy Q n Q
"A little to the left!" I holler. Papa moves the board a tiny bit and holds it in place.
"Here?" He calls, the nails stuck between his teeth. I flash him a thumbs up and he hammers one into the board and then steps down the ladder, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Ooh." He breathes, once both feet are placed on the ground. "I'm exhausted! Good thing we're almost done!"
We had been working hours a day for the past week to get the house fixed up and suitable to live in, and there's a probably a day's work left before we could move out of Mr. Koppinger's and back home.
I whip my head around to see Pa moaning, and clutching his back.
"Papa!" I race to him and grab his arm to support him. "Papa, are you alright?"He nods, lowering himself to the ground. "I'm fine, Little Bird, but I think that's enough work for today." I straighten his hat, and collect the building materials scattered all over the yard.
We hear a car pull up behind us, and both turn our heads to see Leon park his hummer and climb out of the driver's seat. Ty jumps out the other side and they both walk up to us.
"Hello!" Mr. Koppinger greets us. "How's the work coming?"
"We brought sandwiches." Ty holds up a plastic bag and tosses us each some lunch. My father unwraps his sandwich and takes a huge bite.
"How's the roof coming?" Leon asks, putting a hand to his brow to look up at the house. "It looks almost done."
"Yeah, there's just a little more work to do." I sigh, staring up at the building. "But Papa's back is bothering him so it might take a little longer than we first expected."
"We can help." Mr. Koppinger offers, putting an arm around his grandson. "Right, Tyler?" Ty rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, I guess..."
"That would be great!" Papa finishes off his sandwich and licks the mustard from the patch of stubble starting to grow above his lip. "Thank you so much!"
"Oh, it's no problem at all!" Leon pats my father on the shoulder. Once we're all finished our lunch, Papa directs us on fixing the roof.
"Now, just grab some glue and climb up the ladder." He instructs. I head over to where he's pointing, searching through the pile of tools.
"Where?" I peer at the toolbox.
"Oh, right! I forgot to buy some!" Pa smacks his forehead. "We'll just do the gluing tomorrow."He passes me his thick work belt and I strap it around my waist.
"Grab a board." He directs me. "And climb up onto the roof."
I carefully balance the wood under my arm as I step up the tall ladder. When I reach the top, my feet slide on the mossy shingles. "Careful!" Papa shouts as I regain my balance and crawl on all fours along the slanted roof. Nearing the gaping hole, I peer down at my empty bedroom, wood splinters covering the hardwood flooring. I slap the board down and slam the nails in, holding it in place. I slowly make my way back to the ground and grab another board. On the roof again, I nail this board down as well, but as I stand up, my feet slip, and there's nowhere I can hold onto.
"Birdie!" The roof disappears below me and my arms flail, desperate to grab something, anything. There's a brief second of flying, before I plummet to the ground. I see the trees, the clouds and then the grass, a little too close to my face.
I land hard, my head throbbing. The ground spins and the sky twists above me, my hands grab at the burning in my neck.
"Birdie!" I hear a fading shout as darkness closes in. "Kestrel!"
"We're home!" I step in the door and hang my Winnie the Pooh backpack up on the little hooks. Izzy kicks off his shoes and walks further into the house.
Yesterday was like every other day. Mom came around the corner with a huge smile, a tray of freshly made chocolate chip cookies cooling on the table. She never complained about making us snacks, even though she barely had any time between getting home from work and us returning from school. She would pour us each a glass of milk and kiss us on the tops of our heads. We would sit at the kitchen table and tell her everything about our day. She never wanted to miss a single event that happened, even little things, like what colour skipping rope I had at recess or how I got to drink from the cold water fountain after gym class. She was such a good listener.
Today is different, though. The house is cold and there is no lingering smell of Mom's baked goodies.
"Mommy?" I call, poking my head in every room. "Mom, where are you?"I head to the living room where Izzy is sitting in front of the TV. "Where's mom?" I ask, and he shrugs.
"Maybe she worked late." His eyes don't leave the screen. Of course, my brother's answer is logical, but isn't satisfactory for six year old me.
I sneak into my parents' room, and emit a giant whine. The dresser drawers are gaping open, all of my mother's clothes gone, except for one shirt balled up on the floor, like it had fallen from her bag. Or maybe she had meant to leave it, maybe she doesn't want anything to remind her of her awful family. I hold the shirt, one that I gave to her last year for Mother's Day. I picked it out myself and Papa paid for it. When she unwrapped it, she kissed my nose and told me she loved it. She wore it as often as possible and would always compliment me on my great choice.
"This is my favourite shirt!" She would twirl every time she wore it. I hold Mom's 'favourite' shirt in my hands and use it to dry the tears. Izzy appears behind me.
"She's gone." He whispers in disbelief, scanning the half empty room. "Mommy left."
I tear away from him and run outside, digging my fingernails into the ground and scooping up little handfuls of dirt. Without another thought, the shirt is shoved into the hole and buried into the black earth. I pat the ground nicely around it, then stand up and give it a kick. "Goodbye, 'Mom'."
"Birdie?" The voice is distant and muffled. "Birdie, can you hear me?"
My eyelids flutter open to meet Dr. Norman's, his giant nose centimeters away from mine.
"Good morning, Kestrel." He smiles, leaning over me.
"Birdie." I manage to croak out, my head aching. Everything aching, actually.
"Hey, little bird." Papa appears, a relieved grin on his face. "I was worried about you."
"What happened?" I rub my sore head, feeling a huge welt under my wavy red hair.
"You fell off the roof, dummy." Ty, another person in the crowd around me, peers down at my throbbing form. I, too, look at my bruised arms and legs and shudder.
"Was it bad?" I ask nervously.
"Nah." Papa waves the thought away, but his red eyes say otherwise. I take his hand and shoot him a weak smile.
"I'm fine, Papa." He replies by simply giving my hand a light kiss.
After some simple tests, Dr. Norman scribbles on a slip of paper and sticks it on my arm.
"Grade two concussion." He informs me. "Usually I say two days bed rest, but since you fell from way up high, I'm gonna say three, maybe four." He turns to Papa and gives him instructions for my medication and tells him to wake me up every hour for the first night.
Dr. Norman pats my shoulder. "You'll be better in no time." and assures me with a wink.
"Ugh" I wake to Ty poking my forearm, intense shadows reflecting on his face from the sunset. "Why do I have to be woken up? It's hard enough to sleep as it is" He sighs, and lowers himself down onto the arm of the couch.
"S-say, Birdie"
"Yes?" I crane my head to look into Tyler's eyes, but an insane pain attacks my brain, and I plop back down onto my stack of pillows.
"I've been thinking"
"And?"
"You've been treated terribly by me" He pauses to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. This is probably a stupid question, but do you want to start over?" I gasp, taken aback by his words. By how many things this boy's done to me, my gut informs me that he's just another liar, luring me into trouble like all the others.
Although, for a split second, I catch a glimpse of Ty's face in my peripheral vision. In that moment, I am told that his emotions are real.
"Hello?" I snap back to reality. He kneels beside me now, awaiting my response.
"Thank you" tears begin to spill from the corners of my eyes, each sob increasing my pain. "Thank you so much" I sniffle, taking a tissue from Tyler.
"Jesus, you're such a crybaby" He rolls his eyes, plops the Kleenex box on my shaking stomach, and walks out of the room.
"Wierdo" I laugh. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and curl up under the covers again.
"Birdie?"
"What now?" I mumble from beneath the blankets. I poke my head out the top to see Leon hovering at the door. He comes over and sits on the end of the bed.
"How you doing, kiddo?" he asks, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. I shrug, the slight movement making my head throb.
"Badly" I say truthfully, closing my eyes to evade the nausea that hits me suddenly. "Please may you get me a glass of water?"
"Of course" He shuffles into the kitchen, and fills a glass up to the rim with cold water. Before leaving the counter, Leon drops a blue straw into the clear liquid. I accept the drink gladly, and after my friend helps prop me up, I am instantly taking generous gulps.
"Whenever you need something, sweetie, just give me the call" He lays me back down and goes off towards his bedroom.
"Wait" I manage to croak before he's out of range. "Where's Papa?"
"He'll be here soon" Leon promises, and closes the door behind him.
After what seems like ages of laying alone in the dark, I finally succumb to sleep. Even when I'm dreaming, there's an endless pain resonating from my brain.
"Birdie" Ty sits on the roof, and offers me the place beside him. "Sit down, I want to talk" I plop down beside him, and dangle my legs off the eavestroughs.
"What is it?" I ask. He smiles, and ushers me closer.
"We should be best friends"
"Really?"
"Yeah"
I grin, and scooch the last few inches closer to him. Suddenly, Tyler's face contorts into a malicious grin. I try to inch away from the edge of the roof, but it's useless. His strong hands whip me over the side of the building.
"Why?" Is the only word I can gasp, as I tumble towards the ground. For what seems like an eternity, I fall. With each second, my headache gets worse. But still I fall.
Papa is on the ground under me, screaming my name. His voice is much more distant than it should be. Right before I land on the mossy ground with a splat, I am startled awake.
"Birdie, Birdie, it's okay" My crusty eyes open to my father cradling me gently, and humming into my hair. "You're fine, sweetie" I grip onto his sweatshirt tighter. There is a sheen of cold sweat covering my forehead, and with a shaking hand, I wipe it away.
"Papa" I cry, tears rolling down my face. "Why am I so weird?"
A sullen expression clouds his face. "You aren't, sweetie. You're the best girl ever"
"Okay"
"Now, go to sleep, sweetie" I shut my eyes, but there's no use trying to fall back asleep. For awhile, I rest in the darkness, trying not to think much, because that makes my head throb even more.
"Oh, I give up" I whisper to myself, and haul myself into a sitting position. Even with that small gesture, my head spins and there's vomit in the back of my throat, but I continue towards the fridge. The cool air that blasts at me once I open the refrigerator doors is refreshing. Before I fall unconcious to the ground, I snatch a ginger ale from the highest shelf, and walk to the kitchen island. On the counter, Someone's left a bottle of painkillers. Instead of staying at the island, I pour out a few pills and take my things back over to the couch. My head still pounds. I gulp down the fizzy liquid with the medicine and lay back down on the couch, carefully propping my head on the squishy mound of pillows.
I still can't sleep.
Six hours later, Leon shuffles into the kitchen, and sees me reading a gardening magazine on the couch.
"Good morning, Birdie" He yawns, and fills a kettle with water. "Trust you got some shut-eye"
"Not much" I reply monotonously, and flip to a page covered in a picture of the many different types of pansies.
"Is your head better?"
"Nope"
"Even the tiniest bit?"
"No!" I throw the magazine to the ground. "I barely had two hours of sleep. My head feels like it's goingn to explode, and the fact that I could puke any moment just makes it so much better"
"Ssh, Birdie, Ty and your father are still sleeping" Leon snatches the kettle from a red-hot elemet moments before it whistles, and pours an even amount of scalding water into two bright green mugs. He grabs a box of teabags before he sits next to me. "Cinnamon spice or rooibos chai?"
"Whichever" I kick the dog-eared magazine underneath the coffee table, and grab a random flavour of tea from the box.
"You know, a good attitude always helps" Leon sighs, stirring a spoonful of honey into his own mug.
"What's the use, though? I'll be stuck here, doing nothing all day! For a week!" I sip my beverage, but it's much too hot for my liking, and I place it sloppily onto a coaster. While splashing burning tea on my hand. I screech, blowing on my hand.
"Sorry about that" Mr.Koppinger jogs into the kitchen for a few seconds, and comes back with an icecube. "This should help"
"Thank you" I watch, mesmerized, as the ice cube melts in my scalding chai tea. Once the whole thing's turned to liquid, I take another sip.
"I should wake up Rich. We're going to rebuild the shack at the Marina today" Leon's use of Papa's real name makes me smile. Not many people use it around me. Not anymore.
"Okay" My beath catches in my throat, and I am forced to take a deep breath before continuing. "Have fun"
Once they've left to the Marina, I stumble over to the bathroom and ready a steaming hot bath. It fills the whole room with humid air, and the large expanse of mirrors are fogged up. I dip my toes into the tub, and adjust the temperature a bit, before submerging myself in the hot water. Breathing in the humid air clears my brain, and makes it easier to relax.
That's when I drift off.
"Oh my god!" Ty peers around the door, into the bathroom. My eyes open slowly, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he's intruding on my bathing. I throw my arms around my midsection, and sink deeper into the water.
"Why are you taking a bath in your clothes?" He snorts, knocking the door open. "Never mind the fact you're sleeping" Tyler's hair is sticking in every direction, and he's still wearing his pyjamas.
"My clothes?" I question groggily, and look down at my body. Sure enough, my own fleece jammies are plastered to my skin. "oops"
"It's almost lunch" He states, looking at the ancient radio in the hall. "We should probably bring some food over to you dad and grandpa..."
"I'll be right out" I scratch my neck, and stand up, but practically fall out of the tub when my head begins to throb again. "Ow"
"I'll have some medicine ready, too" He smirks at my pain, and steps back into the hallway. "Weirdo"
"Jerk"
"You'll need three tablespoons of butter"
"Four?" I grab a jar of butter from the frodge, and place it beside a pot of noodles.
"No, three"
"Well, sorry" I say sarcastically, and plop in an estimated amount of butter. "What else"
"A glop of milk"
"What's a glop?"
"Oh, never mind!" Tyler grabs a jug, and lets one 'glop' into the pasta.
"Now, put in the cheese, and mix it around" I pour in a bag of orange powder, and stir it until the whole pot looks like it's been attacked by a hi-liter.
"Ta-Da!" I lift up the noodles, proud of our feat.
"Whatever" Ty spoons a bit into four bowls, and covers each one before dropping them unceremoniously into a plastic bag. "I'll be back later. Don't die"
"Good-bye to you too"
For the second time in the day, I wake up in the weirdest place.
"How'd you get up there?" Papa laughs, carrying me back to the couch. My eyes are still shut, but I emit a half-hearted giggle. "Seriously, you're the only person I know that can sleep on the drier with a concussion"
"Maybe because she is the only person who has ever slept on the drier" Leon joins the laughter.
"Doubt it" Ty's voice says. "Anyway, I need to search for a college. See you guys later"
"Bye" My father and Mr. Koppinger say, and Papa puts his hand on my forehead.
"I think you're getting better already"
"That's good" I smile, and roll over to my side. Leon leaves the room, and I am left with Pa.
"Say, Birdie"
"Yes?" I reply sleepily.
"Hypothetically... If I had a girlfriend, would you be okay with that?"
"Hmm" I think. "Depends"
"Thank you" Papa gives my nose a kiss. "Sleep as much as you can, little bird, It's late"
There was another sleepless night.
Please forgive the
1) Horrible writing and
2) Terrible length
weh
~Byee
APOLOGIES/// THIS CHAPTER IS UBER SHORT. sowwy Q n Q
"A little to the left!" I holler. Papa moves the board a tiny bit and holds it in place.
"Here?" He calls, the nails stuck between his teeth. I flash him a thumbs up and he hammers one into the board and then steps down the ladder, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Ooh." He breathes, once both feet are placed on the ground. "I'm exhausted! Good thing we're almost done!"
We had been working hours a day for the past week to get the house fixed up and suitable to live in, and there's a probably a day's work left before we could move out of Mr. Koppinger's and back home.
I whip my head around to see Pa moaning, and clutching his back.
"Papa!" I race to him and grab his arm to support him. "Papa, are you alright?"He nods, lowering himself to the ground. "I'm fine, Little Bird, but I think that's enough work for today." I straighten his hat, and collect the building materials scattered all over the yard.
We hear a car pull up behind us, and both turn our heads to see Leon park his hummer and climb out of the driver's seat. Ty jumps out the other side and they both walk up to us.
"Hello!" Mr. Koppinger greets us. "How's the work coming?"
"We brought sandwiches." Ty holds up a plastic bag and tosses us each some lunch. My father unwraps his sandwich and takes a huge bite.
"How's the roof coming?" Leon asks, putting a hand to his brow to look up at the house. "It looks almost done."
"Yeah, there's just a little more work to do." I sigh, staring up at the building. "But Papa's back is bothering him so it might take a little longer than we first expected."
"We can help." Mr. Koppinger offers, putting an arm around his grandson. "Right, Tyler?" Ty rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, I guess..."
"That would be great!" Papa finishes off his sandwich and licks the mustard from the patch of stubble starting to grow above his lip. "Thank you so much!"
"Oh, it's no problem at all!" Leon pats my father on the shoulder. Once we're all finished our lunch, Papa directs us on fixing the roof.
"Now, just grab some glue and climb up the ladder." He instructs. I head over to where he's pointing, searching through the pile of tools.
"Where?" I peer at the toolbox.
"Oh, right! I forgot to buy some!" Pa smacks his forehead. "We'll just do the gluing tomorrow."He passes me his thick work belt and I strap it around my waist.
"Grab a board." He directs me. "And climb up onto the roof."
I carefully balance the wood under my arm as I step up the tall ladder. When I reach the top, my feet slide on the mossy shingles. "Careful!" Papa shouts as I regain my balance and crawl on all fours along the slanted roof. Nearing the gaping hole, I peer down at my empty bedroom, wood splinters covering the hardwood flooring. I slap the board down and slam the nails in, holding it in place. I slowly make my way back to the ground and grab another board. On the roof again, I nail this board down as well, but as I stand up, my feet slip, and there's nowhere I can hold onto.
"Birdie!" The roof disappears below me and my arms flail, desperate to grab something, anything. There's a brief second of flying, before I plummet to the ground. I see the trees, the clouds and then the grass, a little too close to my face.
I land hard, my head throbbing. The ground spins and the sky twists above me, my hands grab at the burning in my neck.
"Birdie!" I hear a fading shout as darkness closes in. "Kestrel!"
"We're home!" I step in the door and hang my Winnie the Pooh backpack up on the little hooks. Izzy kicks off his shoes and walks further into the house.
Yesterday was like every other day. Mom came around the corner with a huge smile, a tray of freshly made chocolate chip cookies cooling on the table. She never complained about making us snacks, even though she barely had any time between getting home from work and us returning from school. She would pour us each a glass of milk and kiss us on the tops of our heads. We would sit at the kitchen table and tell her everything about our day. She never wanted to miss a single event that happened, even little things, like what colour skipping rope I had at recess or how I got to drink from the cold water fountain after gym class. She was such a good listener.
Today is different, though. The house is cold and there is no lingering smell of Mom's baked goodies.
"Mommy?" I call, poking my head in every room. "Mom, where are you?"I head to the living room where Izzy is sitting in front of the TV. "Where's mom?" I ask, and he shrugs.
"Maybe she worked late." His eyes don't leave the screen. Of course, my brother's answer is logical, but isn't satisfactory for six year old me.
I sneak into my parents' room, and emit a giant whine. The dresser drawers are gaping open, all of my mother's clothes gone, except for one shirt balled up on the floor, like it had fallen from her bag. Or maybe she had meant to leave it, maybe she doesn't want anything to remind her of her awful family. I hold the shirt, one that I gave to her last year for Mother's Day. I picked it out myself and Papa paid for it. When she unwrapped it, she kissed my nose and told me she loved it. She wore it as often as possible and would always compliment me on my great choice.
"This is my favourite shirt!" She would twirl every time she wore it. I hold Mom's 'favourite' shirt in my hands and use it to dry the tears. Izzy appears behind me.
"She's gone." He whispers in disbelief, scanning the half empty room. "Mommy left."
I tear away from him and run outside, digging my fingernails into the ground and scooping up little handfuls of dirt. Without another thought, the shirt is shoved into the hole and buried into the black earth. I pat the ground nicely around it, then stand up and give it a kick. "Goodbye, 'Mom'."
"Birdie?" The voice is distant and muffled. "Birdie, can you hear me?"
My eyelids flutter open to meet Dr. Norman's, his giant nose centimeters away from mine.
"Good morning, Kestrel." He smiles, leaning over me.
"Birdie." I manage to croak out, my head aching. Everything aching, actually.
"Hey, little bird." Papa appears, a relieved grin on his face. "I was worried about you."
"What happened?" I rub my sore head, feeling a huge welt under my wavy red hair.
"You fell off the roof, dummy." Ty, another person in the crowd around me, peers down at my throbbing form. I, too, look at my bruised arms and legs and shudder.
"Was it bad?" I ask nervously.
"Nah." Papa waves the thought away, but his red eyes say otherwise. I take his hand and shoot him a weak smile.
"I'm fine, Papa." He replies by simply giving my hand a light kiss.
After some simple tests, Dr. Norman scribbles on a slip of paper and sticks it on my arm.
"Grade two concussion." He informs me. "Usually I say two days bed rest, but since you fell from way up high, I'm gonna say three, maybe four." He turns to Papa and gives him instructions for my medication and tells him to wake me up every hour for the first night.
Dr. Norman pats my shoulder. "You'll be better in no time." and assures me with a wink.
"Ugh" I wake to Ty poking my forearm, intense shadows reflecting on his face from the sunset. "Why do I have to be woken up? It's hard enough to sleep as it is" He sighs, and lowers himself down onto the arm of the couch.
"S-say, Birdie"
"Yes?" I crane my head to look into Tyler's eyes, but an insane pain attacks my brain, and I plop back down onto my stack of pillows.
"I've been thinking"
"And?"
"You've been treated terribly by me" He pauses to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. This is probably a stupid question, but do you want to start over?" I gasp, taken aback by his words. By how many things this boy's done to me, my gut informs me that he's just another liar, luring me into trouble like all the others.
Although, for a split second, I catch a glimpse of Ty's face in my peripheral vision. In that moment, I am told that his emotions are real.
"Hello?" I snap back to reality. He kneels beside me now, awaiting my response.
"Thank you" tears begin to spill from the corners of my eyes, each sob increasing my pain. "Thank you so much" I sniffle, taking a tissue from Tyler.
"Jesus, you're such a crybaby" He rolls his eyes, plops the Kleenex box on my shaking stomach, and walks out of the room.
"Wierdo" I laugh. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and curl up under the covers again.
"Birdie?"
"What now?" I mumble from beneath the blankets. I poke my head out the top to see Leon hovering at the door. He comes over and sits on the end of the bed.
"How you doing, kiddo?" he asks, placing a soft hand on my shoulder. I shrug, the slight movement making my head throb.
"Badly" I say truthfully, closing my eyes to evade the nausea that hits me suddenly. "Please may you get me a glass of water?"
"Of course" He shuffles into the kitchen, and fills a glass up to the rim with cold water. Before leaving the counter, Leon drops a blue straw into the clear liquid. I accept the drink gladly, and after my friend helps prop me up, I am instantly taking generous gulps.
"Whenever you need something, sweetie, just give me the call" He lays me back down and goes off towards his bedroom.
"Wait" I manage to croak before he's out of range. "Where's Papa?"
"He'll be here soon" Leon promises, and closes the door behind him.
After what seems like ages of laying alone in the dark, I finally succumb to sleep. Even when I'm dreaming, there's an endless pain resonating from my brain.
"Birdie" Ty sits on the roof, and offers me the place beside him. "Sit down, I want to talk" I plop down beside him, and dangle my legs off the eavestroughs.
"What is it?" I ask. He smiles, and ushers me closer.
"We should be best friends"
"Really?"
"Yeah"
I grin, and scooch the last few inches closer to him. Suddenly, Tyler's face contorts into a malicious grin. I try to inch away from the edge of the roof, but it's useless. His strong hands whip me over the side of the building.
"Why?" Is the only word I can gasp, as I tumble towards the ground. For what seems like an eternity, I fall. With each second, my headache gets worse. But still I fall.
Papa is on the ground under me, screaming my name. His voice is much more distant than it should be. Right before I land on the mossy ground with a splat, I am startled awake.
"Birdie, Birdie, it's okay" My crusty eyes open to my father cradling me gently, and humming into my hair. "You're fine, sweetie" I grip onto his sweatshirt tighter. There is a sheen of cold sweat covering my forehead, and with a shaking hand, I wipe it away.
"Papa" I cry, tears rolling down my face. "Why am I so weird?"
A sullen expression clouds his face. "You aren't, sweetie. You're the best girl ever"
"Okay"
"Now, go to sleep, sweetie" I shut my eyes, but there's no use trying to fall back asleep. For awhile, I rest in the darkness, trying not to think much, because that makes my head throb even more.
"Oh, I give up" I whisper to myself, and haul myself into a sitting position. Even with that small gesture, my head spins and there's vomit in the back of my throat, but I continue towards the fridge. The cool air that blasts at me once I open the refrigerator doors is refreshing. Before I fall unconcious to the ground, I snatch a ginger ale from the highest shelf, and walk to the kitchen island. On the counter, Someone's left a bottle of painkillers. Instead of staying at the island, I pour out a few pills and take my things back over to the couch. My head still pounds. I gulp down the fizzy liquid with the medicine and lay back down on the couch, carefully propping my head on the squishy mound of pillows.
I still can't sleep.
Six hours later, Leon shuffles into the kitchen, and sees me reading a gardening magazine on the couch.
"Good morning, Birdie" He yawns, and fills a kettle with water. "Trust you got some shut-eye"
"Not much" I reply monotonously, and flip to a page covered in a picture of the many different types of pansies.
"Is your head better?"
"Nope"
"Even the tiniest bit?"
"No!" I throw the magazine to the ground. "I barely had two hours of sleep. My head feels like it's goingn to explode, and the fact that I could puke any moment just makes it so much better"
"Ssh, Birdie, Ty and your father are still sleeping" Leon snatches the kettle from a red-hot elemet moments before it whistles, and pours an even amount of scalding water into two bright green mugs. He grabs a box of teabags before he sits next to me. "Cinnamon spice or rooibos chai?"
"Whichever" I kick the dog-eared magazine underneath the coffee table, and grab a random flavour of tea from the box.
"You know, a good attitude always helps" Leon sighs, stirring a spoonful of honey into his own mug.
"What's the use, though? I'll be stuck here, doing nothing all day! For a week!" I sip my beverage, but it's much too hot for my liking, and I place it sloppily onto a coaster. While splashing burning tea on my hand. I screech, blowing on my hand.
"Sorry about that" Mr.Koppinger jogs into the kitchen for a few seconds, and comes back with an icecube. "This should help"
"Thank you" I watch, mesmerized, as the ice cube melts in my scalding chai tea. Once the whole thing's turned to liquid, I take another sip.
"I should wake up Rich. We're going to rebuild the shack at the Marina today" Leon's use of Papa's real name makes me smile. Not many people use it around me. Not anymore.
"Okay" My beath catches in my throat, and I am forced to take a deep breath before continuing. "Have fun"
Once they've left to the Marina, I stumble over to the bathroom and ready a steaming hot bath. It fills the whole room with humid air, and the large expanse of mirrors are fogged up. I dip my toes into the tub, and adjust the temperature a bit, before submerging myself in the hot water. Breathing in the humid air clears my brain, and makes it easier to relax.
That's when I drift off.
"Oh my god!" Ty peers around the door, into the bathroom. My eyes open slowly, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he's intruding on my bathing. I throw my arms around my midsection, and sink deeper into the water.
"Why are you taking a bath in your clothes?" He snorts, knocking the door open. "Never mind the fact you're sleeping" Tyler's hair is sticking in every direction, and he's still wearing his pyjamas.
"My clothes?" I question groggily, and look down at my body. Sure enough, my own fleece jammies are plastered to my skin. "oops"
"It's almost lunch" He states, looking at the ancient radio in the hall. "We should probably bring some food over to you dad and grandpa..."
"I'll be right out" I scratch my neck, and stand up, but practically fall out of the tub when my head begins to throb again. "Ow"
"I'll have some medicine ready, too" He smirks at my pain, and steps back into the hallway. "Weirdo"
"Jerk"
"You'll need three tablespoons of butter"
"Four?" I grab a jar of butter from the frodge, and place it beside a pot of noodles.
"No, three"
"Well, sorry" I say sarcastically, and plop in an estimated amount of butter. "What else"
"A glop of milk"
"What's a glop?"
"Oh, never mind!" Tyler grabs a jug, and lets one 'glop' into the pasta.
"Now, put in the cheese, and mix it around" I pour in a bag of orange powder, and stir it until the whole pot looks like it's been attacked by a hi-liter.
"Ta-Da!" I lift up the noodles, proud of our feat.
"Whatever" Ty spoons a bit into four bowls, and covers each one before dropping them unceremoniously into a plastic bag. "I'll be back later. Don't die"
"Good-bye to you too"
For the second time in the day, I wake up in the weirdest place.
"How'd you get up there?" Papa laughs, carrying me back to the couch. My eyes are still shut, but I emit a half-hearted giggle. "Seriously, you're the only person I know that can sleep on the drier with a concussion"
"Maybe because she is the only person who has ever slept on the drier" Leon joins the laughter.
"Doubt it" Ty's voice says. "Anyway, I need to search for a college. See you guys later"
"Bye" My father and Mr. Koppinger say, and Papa puts his hand on my forehead.
"I think you're getting better already"
"That's good" I smile, and roll over to my side. Leon leaves the room, and I am left with Pa.
"Say, Birdie"
"Yes?" I reply sleepily.
"Hypothetically... If I had a girlfriend, would you be okay with that?"
"Hmm" I think. "Depends"
"Thank you" Papa gives my nose a kiss. "Sleep as much as you can, little bird, It's late"
There was another sleepless night.
Please forgive the
1) Horrible writing and
2) Terrible length
weh
~Byee
