Internally, Emily further interrogated her memories to see where she had gone wrong and concluded that she had misread the time as a result of her temporally impaired vision from earlier. Externally, the woman was yelling “Shit! Shit Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” while she scrambled to find some clean clothes. Not a second could be wasted as Emily’s bus would leave in five minutes. The eighteen-year old threw on a white woolen sweater and a pink knee-high skirt before she hunted for her school supplies.
Okay. Backpack’s near the kitchen. Gym bag is in my parents’ room. Wait! Do have enough money for lunch? GAH! NO TIME FOR THAT!!! The brunette threw her gear onto her back and raced to the door. One leg reached too far and, suddenly, Emily was flying strait into the ground. The floor welcomed her with a wooden floorboard to the face. Tears formed in the eighteen-year old’s eyes as her forehead throbbed with every beat of her heart. Owie.... The young girl continued to sniffle as she knew no one was coming to her aid. By now, her father was thirty minutes into his workday and her mother was dropping off her brother at school. To top it off, every moment she spent writhing on the ground meant less time for her to make it to the bus stop. Emily propped herself up with a nearby chair to inspect the damage. The bruise itself was minor compared to emotional pain it caused. The woman placed a few ice-cubes in a paper towel and diligently tapped her forehead. She quietly walked over to her sneakers, realizing how waxy the floor was with each step. She began cursing under her breath as she rapidly tied her shoes and slammed the door behind her.
The brunette bolted down the stairs and into the lobby. Luckily, the bus stop was just across the street. This gave her the perfect view to see her bus pull away as she existed the building. “WAIT! I’M HERE! STOP! PLEASE!!!” Emily screamed. She desperately waved her free arm while trying to hold the makeshift ice-pack in place. The bus paid no attention to the girl as it continued its drive. The eighteen-year old leaned back on the door to the apartment complex, thinking of what to do next. She couldn’t really give up. The girl didn’t have much of an excuse for her absence. Plus, today was too important. She had two tests to take today, one of which would begin in less than twenty minutes. Walking to school would be a bit much for her, especially in this heat. The brunette would jog for thirty minutes and arrive at school, covered in sweat, only to be marked tardy and face her teachers’ disdain. Emily sighed and continued to lean against the door which decided to give in and let the girl fall flat on her back. Her bags did cushion her fall yet the brunette still had the wind knocked out of her.
The teen tossed herself around on the floor, seeking to regain her footing as well as fill her lungs. Once her vision cleared and coughing ceased, the brunette’s eyes fell onto a pair of torn sneakers. As Emily brought herself up, she could that the sneakers led to some discolored gym clothes and baseball cap which were being filled by a girl only a few years older. She stood a couple inches taller than Emily and while she seemed well-proportioned, everything about her looked fragile. Her trembling fingers, pale-white skin etched with various unidentifiable scratches, and long mousy hair which was poorly dyed a vibrant orange catered to her apparent distress. What captured Emily’s intrigue the most was the girl’s current action. She was about a half-inch away from the apartment lobby mirror, eyes locked with that of her reflection’s, and slowly opening and closing her mouth. Very little else was happening on the young woman’s figure. She opened then closed on a loop, never breaking eye-contact.
The brunette continued to stare at the strange faux-ginger until her ears caught the sound of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, ticking away. Questions of both the girl’s and her disposition popped into the eighteen-year old’s mind yet Emily didn’t have the heart to leave this person without asking one question; a question that anyone would say given the situation. The brunette cleared her throat, took a step closer to the woman and asked “Excuse me, Miss. Are you ok?”
Emily could feel her blood turn cold as the girl’s irises shifted to view her from the corner of her eyes. The rest of the woman soon followed in a ninety degree turn. Emily felt trapped in the not-really-ginger’s stare; losing air with every breath drawn by her captor. The brunette locked her grip on what was left of the makeshift icepack. How this would provide protection from her potential attacker, the eighteen-year old was unsure of. The mind tends to make up many rules when its scared shitless. The young woman, who somehow towered over Emily now, took a few more deep gasps before saying, “DO MY TEETH LOOK BAD?”
Emily had to think on this for a while or she would once she recollected the pieces of her brain that were on the floor. She needed to look at this strange person as a whole product before going into any details. The girl seemed harmless, especially after hearing such a bubbly voice escape her lips. With only a minor case of yellowing, her teeth appeared fine. However, the brunette noticed other things about the girl when she became brave enough to breathe again. While the odor was noticeable yet approachable, similar to the way people don’t get burned unless they physically touch fire, the young woman smelt of burnt cat-hair, both drinking and rubbing alcohol, dog saliva and petunias. The array of scents led the eighteen-year old back to the ginger’s clothes. As she counted the sweat stains and who knows what else clinging onto the girl’s attire, Emily made a note to keep her distance. The brunette glanced back to the girl who was eagerly waiting for her reply.
“No. I think you’re good,” Emily said cautiously.
“GREAT! I don’t have money for a dentist. So what do ya think of this weather? Steamy, right? I can’t believe how hot it is out there! I’ve stayed indoors most of the day and my sweatshirt still got crusty. At least, I think it’s crusty. It’s very adhesive........... and itchy. I kind of think it digs into my skin too much. Sort of tight, especially during hot weather, but for the most part, it still fits. Not sure what to about it. Hey, do you have some gym clothes I can borrow?”
Emily was about to reply but the woman picked up her conversation again without receiving a word from the brunette. The eighteen-year old stood there, entranced as the ratty girl paced back and forth while her arms flailed about in whatever direction they chose. Emily questioned why she was watching this spectacle as time dwindled away. Eventually, she began to feel pressure on her right cheek. Having been brought back down to Earth, the eighteen-year old realized she was being poked by the ginger.
Emily jumped a few centimeters away from her intruder of personal space. While wiping her cheek with the wet paper towel that was once an icepack, the brunette firmly said, “Don’t do that. Please.”
The ginger frowned and her eyebrows knotted. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“About your gym clothes?”
The ginger released her former expression and began to chuckle. “No. ‘Are! You! Ok!?’ You spaced out for at least two minutes.”
The mention of the time made Emily spin her head to the grandfather clock in the corner.
8:52 am
The brunette lost her balance as her stomach felt five times heavier. The taller girl managed to prop the eighteen-year old against the wall before she hit the ground. Struggling to keep Emily eye-level, the ginger sputtered out, “Are you sick? You’re sick, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’ve got some whisky in back pocket.”
“No! I need to get to school!” Emily shouted as she pounded her hands on her head.
“Oh, that’s it! Then come on! Let’s go!” the ginger shouted back in a slightly lighter tone, dragging the brunette to her feet.
“Wait, what did you say?” the eighteen-year old said, puzzled.
“Come on!” the girl repeated, “We’ll take my car!”
So I’m getting a free ride. By car and with light traffic, I’ll make it. Should I? I didn’t even know this girl had a car. Maybe I shouldn’t judge her. She’s trying to help me. I think. I haven’t even gotten her name yet. Should I do this?
Emily glanced at the grandfather clock.
8:53 am
“Ok. Let’s go.”
The two girls dashed to the apartment’s underground parking lot. They stopped at a baby blue compact, older than the two of them combined. The supposed owner of the car unlocked the driver door and dove head-first into the furry seat of the passenger side.
“What are you doing?” Emily asked, beginning to suspect this might have been a bad choice.
“Well... There’s a bit of a catch,” the girl meekly replied.
“What is it?” the eighteen-year old questioned, desperately trying to keep a light tone.
“Well.... My vision’s impaired right now. Soooooooo.... I can’t drive,” the ginger apologetically stated.
Emily was experienced in driving automatics but stick-shifts were still new territory for her. Whether it was pity or time constraints, the brunette handed the ratty girl her backpack and step into the drivers side. Glancing down to properly place her feet on the pedals, Emily blushed as she noticed her skirt had some translucent spots. Her makeshift ice-pack probably made them a while back. Her skirt would regain some of its opacity after spending some time in the sun. However, the eighteen-year old began to sweat when she realized....
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