*keeps this in mind*
*keeps this in mind too*
As consciousness gathered her up into its reviving embrace, Bleddyn became aware that she was nestled into something soft. My bed...but why is that a surprise?
Bleddyn's eyes flickered. The pain throughout her head hit her like a speeding semi, and so did her recollection.
She was indeed on top of her bed. She dared to shift onto her side, and flecks of blood greeted her brightly from atop her gray sheets- from my face. Nothing new for Mom the 24/7 laundromat attendant.
But she'd last been lying on the hard pavement, knocked out cold by some massive dose of obstreperous sedative.
Guess it must've ended in our favor and someone brought me home.
Just those shallow mental calculations were like voluntarily jamming knives into her head. To fluster over which one of her cohorts had dared obtrusively entered her room, carrying her, unpermitted, was unthinkable. If most of the pain was still nulled, she wasn't looking forward to when the drug wore off to completion.
And the thought of getting up...
I can't stay here all day. Mom's gonna get home soon and be fantastically surprised if her daughter's too doped to get up.
Head screaming all sorts of colorful agony, she pulled herself upright and rolled her unresponsive legs over the edge of the bed. The seafoam carpet rippled before her eyes, becoming the living ocean it strived to emulate. A snarling wolf's head confined to a vivid poster seemed to jeer at her frailty.
Her room slowly came into focus, only to contort wildly the instant she relocated her gaze. Only by narrowing her eyes to near closure could she get the bear's-head digital wall clock to stop shivering long enough to be legible.
2:18. Didn't I leave for the pancake house at like, 8?
Calculating her likely-unsafe elongated downtime seemed way too mentally arduous.
Legs like the trunk of a willow young enough to collapse under itself, she took a step away from her mattress, and immediately had to throw her arms down on her bedside dresser to keep herself standing. Something not polished wood cabinet crinkled underneath her clenched palm.
Her hands shook wildly as she picked up the note. The familiar aftertaste of disgust unpleasantly tickled her taste buds as she read Cat-Boy's message. Seems he made it out unscathed enough after all.
And, Wolfram, eh? Interesting name for a guy who strikes you as an anthropomorphic cat.
....
And then it hit her that he'd been the one to bring her home.
Bleddyn froze as the unmistakable agitation of the front doorknob trickled into her hearing range.
"C-cr-cr-
crap," she muttered, heaving herself back up and clutching wildly for her bedroom door's handle as a myriad of spots swarmed across her vision.
Getting down the stairs was an effort, but she had time to drape herself against the counter before the door yielded.
Ash strolled in, her brunette hair confined to a perky bun set high on her head. She leaned against the banister and reached down to untie her shoelaces. Two consecutive thuds announced that she'd simply kicked off her sneakers without regard to their resting place. She barged into the kitchen, radiating enough energy to light a few lamps and then some. Humming to a song buried by the passing years, she flashed a beaming smile at her wilted daughter, seeming not the least bit startled to see Bleddyn with a battle-scarred face. Bleddyn, in turn, graced her with a blank glare.
Better her than Dad, I guess.
Ash rolled up sleeves heavily concentrated with mud, probably the result of a vigorous cross-country session, and helped herself to a seat a the kitchen table. "Gage called me and informed me that'd you'd been involved in a fight among his patrons."
"No greeting, just immediate accusation? Guess the right to a fair trial is void for teenagers."
"I'm disappointed in you." Her back remained comfortably to Bleddyn.
Irritation flushed Bleddyn's pale face to a healthier shade. "He blew up at a waitress who'd done nothing!"
"I'm not responsible for who started it, Bleddyn. But I am responsible for manslaughter. Are you denying that you were involved?"
"No."
"Did you stop to consider how you'd affect not just your opponent, but everyone else?"
"No."
"Gage was lucky he was able to recover order enough that he didn't have to close for the remainder of the day. How would've you felt if you'd been at fault for a loss of all that profit?"
Bleddyn shrugged diffidently. It wouldn't be the first time someone lost profit due to her.
"I'm sorry you don't yet understand the devastation of business, then. You're lucky...." Suddenly a notch in the counter's flawless surface became the most interesting thing in existence.
I've heard it all before; no, I'm not going to become this perfect child all of a sudden because of your incredibly eloquent and emotionally rousing speech. Also, maybe if you'd yell for once, I'd listen. You've got to be like the first mother ever not to condemn your unabashed offspring in a completely level voice.
A sudden wave of nausea crashed into her. She couldn't stay here and lose her insides all over the floor. And if she resorted back to her bed, her keen mother would suddenly become much more interested in what'd she'd been doing today.
I can see the usual verdict of house arrest now...
"I'm going out, Mom."
"That's fine by me. You agree to work for free in the pancake house for a week or so some time to make up for what you caused?"
"Sure, whatever."
She grabbed blindly for a baseball cap off of the coat rack, and nearly fell flat on her face as she leaped out onto the porch.
I could go to Alice's...no, Aunt Tayn would freak out if she saw me like this... Despite herself, Bleddyn almost snorted aloud at the thought.
Lachlan and Finlay's. Aunt River could care less who shows up in what condition, as long as they're breathing.
She pitched forward again, and had to plop down onto the cushions of a hanging chair. Her forgotten phone rolled down onto her lap. She checked it disinterestedly, expecting no text notifications and finding none.
Everyone's still probably pinned by the rant I just avoided. She pocketed it, and tediously dismounted the porch, grabbing the handrails as if gravity could sweep her away.
Once safely rooted to the ground, she scouted around for her skateboard but found the parking lot to solely occupy Ash's dilapidated forest green Land Rover. It must've been left behind in the wake of the attack of the shady masked individuals.
Well, it'd just have to remain unaccompanied for a little longer, because even she knew better than not to return to the park for a good while after such a disturbance.
I'll have to walk...but...staggering like this...
She cast a sly glance into the shadows of the garage. Just the faintest hint of metal gleamed by a prowling quiver of sunlight. Her beloved dirtbike had been collecting dust in there for far too long.
Who cared how highly unsensible it would be to ride that thing through town in her state and
licenseless?
There even was a disused pair of earbuds draped across the handlebars. She jammed the cord into her phone and them into her ears; within seconds of frenzied clicking, she had some intense tunes to egg on her recklessness.
As she flipped her wrist to turn over the ignition, something screamed for her attention from atop a dimly lighted shelf.
Her neglected helmet.
Bleddyn stared at it for the briefest of heartbeats.
Screw it.
Tires squealing, Bleddyn roared out of the garage and down the street.
