47 Things (preview)

Chapter 4

THE NEXT day, I woke up feeling exhausted and sore. I'd fallen asleep on the couch after the pills had taken effect. My arm must have been up over my head because when I moved in my sleep, this heavy thing hit my in the face, startling me awake. It was only then that I realised that I'd managed to cut the blood flow off at my shoulder as a wave of pins and needles erupted throughout my right arm.

I groaned as the blood rushed painfully back to my fingertips, distracting myself by looking up at my stark white ceiling, grey from impending dawn that was lighting up the small room. I forced myself into a sitting position, wriggling my fingers until full sensation returned, and the moment my foot hit the floor, I had another rush of blood that caused my break to throb like a thousand obscenities.

I released a few of those obscenities under my breath as I reached out for the half crutches that I'd hired from the hospital. My bladder was close to bursting, and I needed to make it to the bathroom to relieve myself before I did anything else.

Balancing on one leg, I managed to get my business done, feeling glad that since it was spring, I had chosen to wear cut off denim shorts to Uni the day before. My knees still stung from the grazes, and my hands weren't much better. Basically, I was a total mess, and when I finished on the toilet, I flushed and hobbled over to the bathroom vanity where I got the first look at myself since I'd left my apartment the day before.

My brown curly hair had become a bird's nest of tangles, and my equally brown eyes had massive dark circles beneath them. My skin looked dank, and the first thought that popped into my mind was that I hoped I didn't look this bad when Tyler was here.

The moment the thought crossed my mind, I frowned and reached out for my electric toothbrush, squeezing some minty paste along its bristles before I brushed furiously at my teeth.

What the hell did I care if Tyler Lohan saw me looking like shit? Beside the fact he's nobody to me but an annoying reminder of the worst years of my life, I was never going to see him again. Well, maybe I was going to see him during exams or at graduation, but after that, there was no reason for me to ever cross paths with him again. Besides, he remembered me from Moama, therefore he remembered the girl who was teased for having steel wool hair, four eyes and railroad teeth, and really, it's probably all he saw when he looked at me anyway. And besides, I didn't care what he thought of me. He was one of the annoying jocks I didn't even like. Just because he was nice to me the day before didn't mean a thing. I just meant that he didn't want me to sue him for causing me to break my ankle. No one cared what I looked like.

Securing my hair tight at the nape of my neck, I spat the toothpaste out in the sink and washed it all down the drain before splashing cold water over my face and looking again at myself in the mirror.

God I hope Tyler didn't see me looking that terrible...

Really wanting a shower, but realising I didn't have anything to cover my cast, I settled for a quick wash at the river before I hobbled into my room and underwent the difficult task of taking off and putting on clothes.

By the time I stretched a pair of jersey cotton shorts over the top of my cast, I swore I'd never take the fact I can walk for granted again.

Relieved my cleaning and washing was done for the day, I stood with my crutches and caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of my full-length gilded mirror. I normally loved that thing with its old world charm; it suited my 1920s apartment perfectly, just like all of my rescued furniture did. I'd taken great delight in scouring garage sales and estate auctions to furnish my small apartment perfectly, and I loved it all – especially that mirror. But, when I caught sight of myself, standing there in a pair of leaf green shorts and a purple cast, that mirror mocked me as I realised that I looked just like a Ribena berry.