dyfam (chapter 4)

(A.N.: I know! Its so short isn't it? Please don't hate me! Writing from Jack's PoV isn't my forte. But I'll post the next chapter soon, promise.)

Jack.

Four.

God. Since when were girls so confusing? They didn’t used to be. I still prefer the days when I was seven and the only thing I wanted to do was play baseball all day and girl’s still had cooties. Even fourteen was okay, with surfing taking up all my time.

I lay on my bed, the sheets bunched up around my feet, wearing only boxers. My cell phone lay on my abs. It was eleven o’clock in the morning, and my stomach was growling, yet I had not moved from the bed in hours. I was thinking, staring at the popcorn ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing since dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets (I know, right! Those suckers are amazing).

Sighing, I sat up, my stomach substituting itself for real food.

My sister was bustling around in the next room, and I pounded on the wall as her music’s heavy bass made the floor rumble. “Shut the hell up!”

“Language!” She shouted back

Sighing, I got out a bed, pulled on a pair of shorts, and slouched down the stairs, my bare feet making weird noises on the wooden boards.

“Mamma!” I called, “Food is needed.”

“Get it yourself.” She grumbled from the living room, where she sat in her bathrobe, a coffee in hand, her eyes intent on the Today morning show.

I plopped myself down on the worn sofa and grabbed at the coffee muttering a “gimme some of that.” as I slurped down the lukewarm shit. Well, it wasn’t really shit. (Really, it was some damn good coffee, but the heatless-ness messed it up.)

I rose and dashed to the kitchen before she could smack me. As I was hid behind the refrigerator door and chugged orange juice straight from the carton, my phone buzzed. I jumped. The OJ carton fell to the floor, causing me to curse loudly. Causing my father to curse back equally loud. Causing my six year old brother to copy us, earning himself a whop upside the head.

“Dumb ass.” My older (by 10 months, big deal) sister Norah whispered as she passed us.

“Norah!” My father boomed. She smiled sweetly and ran off to Mamma, squeaking a “Mommy!” as she hid behind our mother.

I then took the time to look at my phone, seeing the long awaited text from Ebony that had arrived about two hours late.

11:12 AM

Ebzz!!:

So sorry.

meet me at SB?

luv ya.

Starbucks? At 11? In the morning? That was a little early for me, the one who always slept in.

Yes, I’m a hypocrite, but things were stressful.

“Later! I’m off to see Eb.” I said to the household.

“What about the orange juice you just spilt?” Dad yelled after me.

“Norah! Clean up the OJ!” and I dashed out the door, pulling a shirt on as I went.