Covered In Ink

Chapter 2|Are you bipolar?

The adorable child is Archie. I don't even like little kids, but I really want to squeeze this one's cheeks.

~*~*~*~

"Sketchbook, sketchbook, sketchbook," I muttered to myself.

Where the hell did I put it?

I grabbed my backpack and proceeded to tip it upside down, spilling the contents all over the floor.

I stood back to survey the mess I had made. I nodded my head. Nice.

"Stop procrastinating, Hazel," I scolded myself, getting back to the task at hand.

Then my butt started vibrating.

I straightened up and blew a few strands of hair off my face.

"What?" I said, pressing my phone to my ear, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Well hello to you too, H," said a cheeky voice.

"You have impeccable timing, you know that?" I replied, flopping onto my bed.

"I know," he said. "So what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I frowned.

"Something is definitely wrong, I can feel it in my bones."

"Well your bones are stupid."

"Don't you sass me, little sister."

"Don't you sass me, big brother with stupid bones."

"I will sass you to hell and back because I'm older and wiser and I smell better."

"Wow great logic."

"I know."

"Modest too."

"Aren't I always."

"Nope."

"Thanks."

"What?"

"You're so confusing," I muttered to myself, but he must have heard me because I could hear his faint chuckles.

"You still didn't answer my question," Caleb said.

"What question?"

"I swear to God, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall."

"Hey!"

"Straw is cheaper, grass is free, own a farm and you get all three," he said in a singsong voice.

"I'm sure you're adopted."

"Wouldn't surprise me. Now answer the damn question!"

"I can't find my sketchbook," I muttered.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Did you take it to school?"

"Yup."

"Did you look in your bag?"

"Uh huh."

"Did you by any chance, leave it at school?"

I froze. I took it out in art class but then decided not to do any work and started playing temple run. Damn you temple run. I blame the rabid monkeys.

I groaned in realisation.

"I'm going to guess that was a bad groan, I mean it would be a little odd if it was a good groan..." he trailed off when he realised he was talking to his little sister.

"I left it at school."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. So when are you coming home?" I asked.