Alone on Cloud 9

Alone on Cloud 9 (4)

Just a heads up, I've changed some of the teachers names since I realized some of them were repeated in the previous chapters.

PS. The picture on the side is of Paige Summers

Comment and Vote?

Cheers,

xo.

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“I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door”

- The Holiday

Chapter 4                        Grade 12

April 23

'Life, he realized, was--'

"FOR GOD SAKES DAVID I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME."

'Life, he realized, was much like a song. In the be--'

"WELL MAYBE IF YOU LISTENED THE FIRST DAMN TIME I WOULDN'T HAVE TO REPEAT IT LUCY!"

'In the beginning there was mystery, in the end there is confirmation, but it's the middle wh--'

"IF YOU WANT IT DONE SO BADLY DO IT YOURSELF!"

It was no use.

Reading just didn't work anymore. I thought after two years… but I was wrong.

The words I'd read dozens of times before didn't let me drown into their world like they used to. I was stuck here, stuck in reality. The very worst place to be, and more so now that I had to deal with Michael coming back.

Tomorrow.

I pulled myself up from the bed, and tiptoed quietly to the door. They hadn't noticed I was home yet and I planned to keep it that way.

My door gently clicked shut, just as from downstairs the telltale slam of the door signalled another end to another useless argument.

I knew the routine by heart.

He was in the room, clicking away on his computer while she was in the living room flipping angrily through the channels. He'd turn in early and she'd go in sometime past midnight and sleep on the opposite side of the bed.

It was the same thing every day, every night, for as long as I can remember. I suppose I was used to it now, or as used to it as anyone can be, but every night was a reminder of the countless I'd spent as a child, alone in my room, waiting for the fight to end so I could turn on my desk light and read. Read about a world where people were happy, where people fell in love and lived happily ever after. Until finally I could tune it out all together, knowing there was something better out there, better than this.

Except it didn't work anymore.

I tossed my worn copy of The Last Song back into the closet; it had been a desperate hope anyway.

Distraction. That was what I needed.

I grabbed my keys off the bed and eased the door open again. Even from here I could hear the TV blasting in the living room, like it was some sort of competition.