the number one to arbury

unsettle

I couldn't sleep well last night.

My phone kept on ringing from ten to midnight. Yet even after I silenced that, the sound of the ringtone was already stuck in my head. After quite a bit of tossing and turning that did my hair a bloody mess, I picked up the phone at sometime around one AM, curious about who had been calling me in the middle of the night.

It was an unknown number. I wished I could match it with the one my sister had given me, but I was too spent to actually get out of bed at that point, so I just had to let the sight of an unknown number haunt me through what would probably be less than five hours of sleep.

And now at six, the sun's hardly come out, but the three alarms I set up apparently still works even when I sleep on a proper bed. I wake up reaching for my phone first, looking for the exact number of the person calling me last night.

I reach into my pockets for the paper that had the number I tried to contact back in the car before the chase. I put the little piece right above the screen, scanning both of the numbers one by one.

It's a sure match.

Is it unwise to call or text someone so early in the morning?

I'd rather not find out, not with a stranger.

I get up, take my toiletries kit and my towel, and go to the bathroom. A second bathroom, right next to the guest bedroom. I haven't seen something like this in a while. A chance to freshen up, alright. My first plan is to do the other things in the shower while bathing, but then I find out that the water takes a while to heat up. When the water's ready I'm already done brushing my teeth and washing my face. That last one takes some time.

I don't sing in the shower. But I do talk to myself the way I do when no one's around. Sometimes it gets more personal in the shower because I think people wouldn't hear me over the sound of the water. This time it's about what has been happening all night. The calls, the number my sister had given me, slipped under my pillow back home.

I change into a dark blue tee and a skirt that's too long for me that I have to pull it up to right under my breasts. The skirt was from my mother; something she had worn when she was in uni, she said. To give you a picture: I'm 15 and I have the same body as my mum when she was in uni. And I feel like this might change the longer I stay on the road.

When I'm finished the clock on the bedside shows 6:30. I come down to the ground floor. And I can't see Rue anywhere. There's a plate on the dining table with two slices of bread on it and two jars of jam. Maybe she's still in the kitchen. The place is empty. But I see a note on one of the jar lids.

Sorry I had to go early. I sort of prepared your breakfast. I know it's not much, but there you go.

After breakfast I go back to the room, putting all my things back in my bag. I take my phone and looked at the missed calls again. That number...I don't think I've seen it. I want to know who that is, but I don't think I should call them, it's too risky. I end up texting them instead.

Hello. I'd like to know who this is and why you have been calling me all night.

Ten minutes, still no reply. I check around if my teacher has sent anything to me, maybe a printout of a slide or a set of questions. Besides sending me an almost constant stream of assignments, he asks how I'm doing and where I am every time we get in touch. He already knows he shouldn't say anything to my brother.

A set of questions due tomorrow, twenty-five multiple choice questions.

Fifteen minutes. Finally.