Jillian Chantal

The word of the week for Tuesday Tales is bottom.

This is from a YA I wrote a while back. I have had a very tough May and have really written zero new words in a whole month. I was hoping to get some new words this past weekend but it didn’t happen. Be sure to check out the other entries here. 

It seemed like no time before my alarm went off. I groaned at the sound. I was so not ready to get up and go to school. I needed about three days to rest and recover from the last two days. I knew my mom was not going to let me stay here. She was a stickler for attendance and I had missed yesterday after all. Never mind that I was saving my dad’s life. She’d insist I take my carcass to school even if my bottom was dragging the pavement. Which it was.

I took another shower since my hair was a rat’s nest from going to bed with it wet and doing all the tossing and turning that I always did. Mom always swore that I stood on my head and spun around on the blankets. Some days I agreed with her. The mess was really bad today. Many of my friends say they envy my curls. I bet they’d hate them if they had to deal with them every day.

Once out of the shower with my hair pulled back into a ponytail, I threw on some clean jeans and a long sleeve red sweatshirt. It was plain since I was not a fan of broadcasting my likes or my interests on my breasts. As it was, we had way too many people on this earth knowing what we like by those algorithms on the Internet that followed us around. I wanted to keep some things to myself.

My friends thought I was a lunatic and slightly paranoid about it. They continually gifted me with t-shirts and sweats with things they know I like printed on the front. I still never wear them. They’d probably all be upset if they knew that I immediately donated them to charity. I wanted someone to enjoy the shirts even if I didn’t. I didn’t see any hypocrisy in that either since not everyone was as nuts as me when it came to things like that. Some folks don’t care who knows their business.

I grabbed a bagel and an apple and left the house. Rachel and Alice stood on my porch. Rachel’s hand was poised to knock. She giggled when I opened it before she could make contact with the wood.