Chapter One

This chapter is slightly redundant, I think, but I put it in because I want to start to est. Jenny's character.

It's not morning. It's never morning. "Jen, please get up, you're going to miss class again." I open my eyes, barely acknowledging my concerned friend. "I'm up." Swinging my legs over the length of my twin sized bed, I glanced at the clock, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. It read 7:15. Groaning, I grabbed my jeans from the dresser, and slid them on quickly, wincing at the mangled mess of my hair. Checking the mirror, I quickly took a brush through my hair, and opened my eyes, wide. I swear, sometimes you don't even need to talk. You're eyes do all the talking, his memory says, brushing the hair out of my face.

 

"Did you want me to put any coffee on?" Steale asked me, avoiding my eyes, and interrupting my dangerous train of thought. "No, I'll grab some on the way to school." I grabbed my messenger bag off the coffee table, and searched the room for my keys. Not on the kitchen counter, not on the t.v., and not on the floor. Miserably, I looked towards my recycle bin that I liked to call a desk. It was covered in a years worth of belongings, old papers, cards, receipts, show tickets, and movie stubs. Anything you can think of, mostly things I just refused to throw away. The last thing I wanted to do was search through it. I walked to my desk, and began to scatter papers about when Steale intercepted me, jingling my keys in front of my face. “You left them in the bathroom.” She said, giggling softly. I could vaguely remember myself getting home from the library at one in the morning, stopping to pee, and dropping my bag on the table and my keys, apparently, on the bathroom counter. I mumbled a quick thank you and stepped out side of my shabby home.

 

I had barely reached the elevator when my phone started jingling in my pocket. Stupid thing, I thought. Crushing my fingers to grab the phone out of my back pocket, I grabbed it and looked at the caller ID Professor! It flashed at me, almost antagonizing me. I ignored the call and stepped into the small elevator, pressing the button for the lobby floor. A song I dimly knew was playing, and I began to hum along, hoping no one else in the building was leaving at this obscene time. The wallpaper of the elevator was lined with little flowers. They weren’t pretty lowers; they were almost depressing in the sense that they wilted and only made me feel worse on this morning. Thankfully, I reached the lobby without any interruption, and snuck past the building attendant.

 

It was very bright as I stepped outside. It seemed like the sun was in a rare mood. Not only did it not warm me up, it was brighter than truly necessary for no reason. Reaching into my bag for sunglasses, I headed toward the Coffee Bean around the corner. Conveniently, it was located right next to bus station. I walked into the shop, and scanned the menu briefly, and considered trying something new. “Triple espresso, with a vanilla pump, please,” I mumbled quietly, handing the barista a five. Clutching my jacket tighter across my chest, I began to dread the rest of my day. Two classes, a mandatory lunch date, and then I can escape to the library.

 

“Caramel mocha, heavy on the whip?” I whipped my head around quickly, scanning to see who was on the receiving end of that drink. The wind left my lungs suddenly, and I felt my head get really heavy. I shut my eyes, and sat on a chair that obviously meant to be comfortable, but was insatiable to my current need.

 

That’s me! Thank you! So much!” he said, laughing at the shocked server, and leaving a tip under the cup. He grabbed Jenny’s hand softly, and kissed her gloved hands. She looked at him, trying to scold him. “You’re completely scaring her, stop it!” she giggled, trying to gesture at the door. “Let’s go, I’m freezing.” The man wrapped his arms completely around the girl, and they walked together out of the coffee shop, and towards his car. “It’s so beautiful out here,” Jenny said, taking in the lights. Together, they sat in the bed of his ’89 Chevy, and sat back against the window. Jenny nestled closer to him, breathing in his scent. She widened her eyes, and looked over the peaceful night. Each street lamp was aligned perfectly with the sidewalk, and the light from the lamp bounced colorfully on the trees, creating shadows that seemed to sparkle in the dark. Jenny looked up at the sky, feeling happiness course through her body. “Adrian?” she asked, looking up at him. “Hmm?” he grunted, closing his eyes, and holding her tighter. Jenny smiled deeply. “This is how I want my life to end,” she answered. “Happy.”

 

“Triple espresso, with a vanilla pump? Hello, Miss?” I shook myself alive, blinking several times. “Excuse me, ma’am, but your beverage is ready.” The concerned employee looked me up and down, searching for some excuse to ask if I was alright. “Miss, are you okay? Do you need some water?” Silencing him with a look, I grabbed my drink and hurried outside. I briefly considered apologizing for my attitude, but opted not to. Consideration ranked low on my priorities these days.

 

I swiftly walked to the aged wooden bench where the bus would soon pull up. The sun was irritating me, again, and I loosened the bright orange scarf around my neck. I was starting to sweat, and time couldn’t be more against me. It was at least fifteen minutes until the next bus got here, and by then it wouldn’t matter. I knew the moment I woke up this morning that I was going to miss the first half hour of my literature class. I hadn’t ever really planned to make it on time; I rushed out of the loft so quickly because I didn’t want to be there, not because I cared about being late.

 

The daily stop. It was the most stressful time of everyday for me. It was the only part I couldn’t truly avoid. I could miss a class, and I could miss any appointment. But I had to ride this bus. The twenty minutes I had to sit on this bench, sitting alone in my head, was unbearable, but I would ride this bus.

 

I had a car. I had his car. I just couldn’t bring myself to come within twenty feet of it. His smell was everywhere, his habits, his style, interests, even his heart. Pictures of us, strewn across the glove box and on the back seat. The sweater I had gotten him at show last winter, just lying on the back of the driver’s seat. His school books were stacked up in a pile on the passenger seat, and pencils were a permanent part of the floor. His scent was everywhere; I could smell his body wash without even trying. Just breathing in. But then again, I always could. I wouldn’t step foot in that car, not ever.

 

So I rode that bus. Every day since November, I had ridden that bus almost faithfully. That bus and I were friends. It was the stop that I hated. The bench, the cheesy advertisements taped to it, and the ridiculous amount of weeds that seemed to accumulate in mass clumps next to the horrid bench. The bench was so ancient that the wood splintered everywhere, and I knew from the moment I sat down that these leggings wouldn’t survive another day. Since November, I had done this every morning, and every night. I focused my eyes across the street and tried to keep a sob from escaping my chest and into my throat. I decided to count the window panes on the flower boutique directly across from me. I fidgeted with my fingers and repetitively counted until I could hear the slow, working engine of the city bus stop. I grabbed some change from my purse and boarded my consistent friend, depositing the coins into the pay slot as ascended. Quickly, I made it to the back of the bus and took out my mp3, forcing my head into the music and away from my insipid desolation