So part three is here! I would love it if I could get some or any kind of critique and I hope you enjoy it! Remember I stink at grammar and such, but I did space this peice! Huzza!
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I woke up early in the morning, six judging by how the forest around me was just turning gray. I sat up strait and took a few breaths, waking my self up completely.
Looking around my heart dropped about eight stories. No Nathan. He was gone, not a footprint or a broken twig this time. Vanished. I pushed myself up off the ground, now covered with a thin shimmering layer of frost. My neck was stiff from leaning on a rock hard shoulder most of the night and my arms must have has stick patterns imprinted on them.
I ran a thin finger through my hair, shaking out all the leaves, dirt, and other nature junk. But one thing sliced into the skin on my index finger. I drew my hand out and placed my pricked finger in my mouth, sucking the blood off of it. Reaching back into my hair more carefully I felt around and found the sharp object and pulled it out slowly, wincing as it snagged a few snarled strands.
It was a rose, a rose such a deep red it looked purple. No flourished to it but a small voice in the back of my mind seemed to tell me who it was from. Nathan. I smiled, surprising myself as I fingered the petals of the velvety flower. Reminding me of the rose on the cover of my favorite book, Wicked Lovely.
I was able to make it back to the house just as my father was stumbling out of the room. He pulled up his pajama pants and looked at me, still too bleary eyed to notice that I had gotten in clothes so early. He just grunted and nodded in my general direction.
“Good morning dad.” I grumbled in a sing song voice. Good lord how hard was it to actually say some thing audible in the morning. I know some people don’t wake up as completely as I do but, still.
My well to do father, after all, painted the perfect picture of a ‘young old guy’. He was an even six feet, thick early graying hair that fell loosely in his eyes, that is until he jelled it back before work. His eyes were big and gray ( that’s where I got mine, but unfortunately I also got my mothers, which are larger. Combined, they equal freakishly huge) and he had a slightly potato like nose with a solid, lean build. I guess he kinda looked like Richard Gere, a much less attractive Richard Gere.
I snorted again at the encounter ( I tend to brood over things that tick me off) and walked into the hallway and into my bathroom. I could keep my clothes on. After all I had just put them on last night and the smelled like woods and dirt. Not like body odor or any thing. My hair, was in knots and looked like a nest at the base of my neck. Spraying it a couple of times with some spray on conditioner and a few hundred thousand brush strokes later the insanity, gravity-defying mop atop my head looked presentable. I shoved a tube of clear grapefruit scented lip-gloss in my pocket and was set to go.
Down stairs again my mother was pouring cereal for her self and toasting a piece of bread for my dad. I snatched a Pop tart out of a box on the granite counter top and bit off half of it, un-toasted of course.
“Chrissy, would you mind chewing with your mouth closed?” I made a point of opening my mouth wider (which wasn’t much due to its extremely small size) and making noises to go along with my chewing. My mother just rolled her eyes.
She had auburn hair, slightly waved and falling to just below her shoulder blades. Almost always tied back into a loose messy bun. Her cheek bones were high and defined and she had some serious eye brow issues going on. But apparently the wax used to wax them was ‘unnatural’. Her eyes were too large, and framed by killer model lashes. Her mouth was small, where I got mine from (thanks for that mom!) she only reached five seven and had a itsy bitsy frame, like mine. Today she was wearing a shawl over loose brown yoga pants and a ‘Make love not war’ t-shirt. The hippy.
“Chrissy, please your negative energy is exhausting.”
“What did we say about calling me ‘Chrissy’?!” I asked slowly, as if I were talking to a mentally disable person.
“Alright Christine, your negative energy, still flowing.” She sang the last words and fiddled with the nose ring on the right side of her nose. Not a huge ring, just a stud. But it was enough to bug me. I mean who the heck would want to get holes punched in their face? The toast popped , scaring the living day lights outta me. My mother grabbed it, then continued to hurl it like a Frisbee at my father, catching it while fastening a plain red tie with the other hand. He always managed to amaze me with the speed he could change out of pajamas to a work suit.
He has bought the Old Marsh country club when we were still in Florida and that apparently gave him a good profit. In the winter he billed membership dues and stuff that I didn’t under stand, nor cared about. We had the money and that was enough for me. His interest in the stock market helped too in the purchase of a water front huge house with indoor pool. It amazed me, but we bought it from an old woman who wanted some thing where she was less likely to trip down on of the many flights of stairs. My mom, was an artist. And she was the one who my father wanted to please. The one who decided that Maine, and on the ocean would be the perfect scenery to paint. Currently, I was being a bit more of a moody teenager to her than any one else.
I shoved the last bit of amazingly wonderful blue berry filled crust into my mouth and ran an fidgety finger through my hair and scrunched up my nose and upper lip. My dad threw a non-chelant arm around my midget shoulders.
“If you don’t want to be late for your first day, id suggest we leave now.” he said in his deep, smooth talking voice. Ripping a piece of toast with his teeth savagely. Poor toasty. I nodded to him, shrugged off his heavy arm and walked over to the back door, then circling around to my dad’s black SUV. He often made annoying little movements like that towards me. Some one may have mistaken it for fatherly affection. But that was just the way my dad was. Like Billy Flynn from Chicago. Clipped, cool, and had a sarcastic affection showing habit with all his customers and employees. It just bugged me to no end.
