Extraordinary, chapter 2
Around midnight, Billie Joe climbed out of my bedroom window, to go home, with one last kiss on my cheek. His soft lips always made my heart tingle with delight. I watched him as he climbed down the wooden ladder, that has always been on this side of the house, to make sure he didn't fall. And then he ran off into the night.
I went back and sat down on my bed. Jackle came up and laid down on my pillow, curled up in a ball and started purring. I turned off the lamp that sat on my night stand, shifted my body to the other side and slowly drifted asleep.
My eyes opened slowly, wakening to the sunlight that shined through my red curtains. Jackle hopped up onto the bed and rubbed his small face against my cheek as if he were saying "Good Morning." I lifted my upper body up slightly and turned my body so that I sat up. I got up from my bed, walked over to my dresser, and stared at myself in the mirror. My face was red, like it was every morning, and there was flaking dried drool at the corners of my mouth that I quickly wiped away, again with my spit. I picked at the dirt from under my fingernails while I looked at my eyes, my eyeliner and mascara smudged under my lower eyelashes. My hair was up in a messy bun and little stray hairs had fallen out and stuck to the bed and sleeves of my shirt. I shook my head to wake myself up and I walked into my closet.
In my closet, there were clothes on the floor, like my room, there were shoes hanging halfway off their shoe racks and the cherry wallpaper was half ripped and half still holding onto the wall. My clothes were hanging off the hanger, holding on by one sleeve. Everything was so crowded and the top of my shelves were even worse; loaded with board games and boxes of old clothes stacking up to the ceiling. I picked out a clean pair of jeans from the floor and a black tank top. I changed out of my (Billie Joe's missing) boxers and slipped the tank over the one I was already wearing. I picked up Jackle from my bed and carried him downstairs into the kitchen.
The sweet aroma of bagels and strawberry jam filled my nostrils as I entered the kitchen. Triton was sitting at the table, spreading jam on a piece of toast, so eager to eat it. My dad was just coming in from the back door and my mother following him.
"Those strawberries are really growing down in the garden..." I heard my mother continuing as she came in through the door. "Oh, good morning Delilah. Did you sleep well?"
"Fine." I mumbled. But my mother leaned her ear in closer to me to suggest that she couldn't hear me. I cleared my throat and managed an even louder "fine" through my mouth. I grabbed a piece of toast from the yellow plate that sat in the middle of table and I stole the jam away from Tristan, who was happily munching on his food. I spread the jam in the corner of my buttered toast and took a bite. I slouched back into my chair and chewed through the crust of the bread.
Moments later, my mother handed a plate with a couple pieces of toast on it and a cup of orange juice. She told me to take that up to my grandpa and to make sure that he eats it. I took the plate and glass from her hands and strutted upstairs to my grandpa's room. It was the master bedroom, where my grandma and grandpa used to sleep before we got here, but now only my grandpa slept there. I entered the room and gently woke my grandpa up. He smiled when he saw my face. I set the plate down on night stand and gave him the glass of orange juice. I helped him sit up and I sat on the bed to hug him. He said "good morning" quietly and got a sip from his glass. I got up and walked around the bed, passed the dresser with all the pictures of my grandma and him, and to the bedroom door. I walked out and closed the door slightly.
My grandfather didn't say much now. We thought that he had throat cancer, but the doctor clarified that he didn't. Now we just figure that he's too weak to speak. But most of the time, we can tell what he's thinking. Thinking about my grandmother and how she was.
I walked downstairs, not saying much to my parents, picked up my purse and pack back and walked out the door and down the long dirt driveway to the curb of the street. I waited a little while until I saw a black Pontiac turning the corner onto our street. The car stopped at my feet and I opened the door and slid my body into the front seat. "Hey Clare!" I greeted.
"Morning. To school?"
"To school," I let out with a laugh.
Clare was my best friend. I met her around the time that I started going out with Billie Joe. She has very white blonde hair and a pale round face. She was slim and quite short. He always wore very dark colors, like: dark purple, dark blue, forest colors, and blacks. She wore light jewelry, mostly just her earrings. She had a tattoo of a purple dragon on her left shoulder that was visible whenever she wore tank tops. She always wore the same plum lipstick and brown eyeshadow. Today she wore her brown tank with a pine green skirt and her black clogs that she adores (insert: rolling eyes).
Everyday she picked me to go to school. Since her parents don't let her use the car for anything but school, she would pick me up and drop me off and in return, I'd take her places after school. Kind of like our own little system that we worked out here.
Once we got to school, she dropped me off at the front doors while she went to go look for a parking spot. I walked up the stairs and the door was held open for me by a couple of freshmen. I walked down to my first period class, down the furthest right aisle, and to the last seat. Two minutes later, Clare walked in and sat down beside me. Kids started storming into the classroom a few moments before the bell rang and then class started.
I went back and sat down on my bed. Jackle came up and laid down on my pillow, curled up in a ball and started purring. I turned off the lamp that sat on my night stand, shifted my body to the other side and slowly drifted asleep.
My eyes opened slowly, wakening to the sunlight that shined through my red curtains. Jackle hopped up onto the bed and rubbed his small face against my cheek as if he were saying "Good Morning." I lifted my upper body up slightly and turned my body so that I sat up. I got up from my bed, walked over to my dresser, and stared at myself in the mirror. My face was red, like it was every morning, and there was flaking dried drool at the corners of my mouth that I quickly wiped away, again with my spit. I picked at the dirt from under my fingernails while I looked at my eyes, my eyeliner and mascara smudged under my lower eyelashes. My hair was up in a messy bun and little stray hairs had fallen out and stuck to the bed and sleeves of my shirt. I shook my head to wake myself up and I walked into my closet.
In my closet, there were clothes on the floor, like my room, there were shoes hanging halfway off their shoe racks and the cherry wallpaper was half ripped and half still holding onto the wall. My clothes were hanging off the hanger, holding on by one sleeve. Everything was so crowded and the top of my shelves were even worse; loaded with board games and boxes of old clothes stacking up to the ceiling. I picked out a clean pair of jeans from the floor and a black tank top. I changed out of my (Billie Joe's missing) boxers and slipped the tank over the one I was already wearing. I picked up Jackle from my bed and carried him downstairs into the kitchen.
The sweet aroma of bagels and strawberry jam filled my nostrils as I entered the kitchen. Triton was sitting at the table, spreading jam on a piece of toast, so eager to eat it. My dad was just coming in from the back door and my mother following him.
"Those strawberries are really growing down in the garden..." I heard my mother continuing as she came in through the door. "Oh, good morning Delilah. Did you sleep well?"
"Fine." I mumbled. But my mother leaned her ear in closer to me to suggest that she couldn't hear me. I cleared my throat and managed an even louder "fine" through my mouth. I grabbed a piece of toast from the yellow plate that sat in the middle of table and I stole the jam away from Tristan, who was happily munching on his food. I spread the jam in the corner of my buttered toast and took a bite. I slouched back into my chair and chewed through the crust of the bread.
Moments later, my mother handed a plate with a couple pieces of toast on it and a cup of orange juice. She told me to take that up to my grandpa and to make sure that he eats it. I took the plate and glass from her hands and strutted upstairs to my grandpa's room. It was the master bedroom, where my grandma and grandpa used to sleep before we got here, but now only my grandpa slept there. I entered the room and gently woke my grandpa up. He smiled when he saw my face. I set the plate down on night stand and gave him the glass of orange juice. I helped him sit up and I sat on the bed to hug him. He said "good morning" quietly and got a sip from his glass. I got up and walked around the bed, passed the dresser with all the pictures of my grandma and him, and to the bedroom door. I walked out and closed the door slightly.
My grandfather didn't say much now. We thought that he had throat cancer, but the doctor clarified that he didn't. Now we just figure that he's too weak to speak. But most of the time, we can tell what he's thinking. Thinking about my grandmother and how she was.
I walked downstairs, not saying much to my parents, picked up my purse and pack back and walked out the door and down the long dirt driveway to the curb of the street. I waited a little while until I saw a black Pontiac turning the corner onto our street. The car stopped at my feet and I opened the door and slid my body into the front seat. "Hey Clare!" I greeted.
"Morning. To school?"
"To school," I let out with a laugh.
Clare was my best friend. I met her around the time that I started going out with Billie Joe. She has very white blonde hair and a pale round face. She was slim and quite short. He always wore very dark colors, like: dark purple, dark blue, forest colors, and blacks. She wore light jewelry, mostly just her earrings. She had a tattoo of a purple dragon on her left shoulder that was visible whenever she wore tank tops. She always wore the same plum lipstick and brown eyeshadow. Today she wore her brown tank with a pine green skirt and her black clogs that she adores (insert: rolling eyes).
Everyday she picked me to go to school. Since her parents don't let her use the car for anything but school, she would pick me up and drop me off and in return, I'd take her places after school. Kind of like our own little system that we worked out here.
Once we got to school, she dropped me off at the front doors while she went to go look for a parking spot. I walked up the stairs and the door was held open for me by a couple of freshmen. I walked down to my first period class, down the furthest right aisle, and to the last seat. Two minutes later, Clare walked in and sat down beside me. Kids started storming into the classroom a few moments before the bell rang and then class started.
