Vivien
It's 2.17 AM, at least by the clock on my bedside table.
I watch the shadows dance like flames across my walls, created by my dream catcher and a slight breeze from my window. Although I'm tired, I can't sleep, so I watch the flames do their spontaneous dance, slowly falling into the hypnotic glissades of fiery tendrils of flames across the ocean blue of my wall. The water shifts from calm to rough, throwing spluttering flames around and high into the air. Clouds disappear, the water turns red, now blue flames dance on the red hot water.
As the air conditioning kicks in, even louder than my dad's snoring from the other room, I steal a glance at the clock. 4.52.
I must have slept for a while. Funny, I had dreamed of the shadow flames on my ocean wall.
I am fascinated by a ship sailing in my red water, sails beautifully contrasting against the blackened sky.
"Vivien?"
"Whatdoyouwant?" My words join together, proving to my father that I am still asleep.
"Wake up, girl!" My father jokes.
I'm not a morning person. Jokes in the morning are not necessary. In fact, they tick me off.
Too late, I realize that I have just done what he wanted me too, opened my eyes to glare at him. I'm awake now.
I feel hands close around my ankles and suddenly I'm sliding off the end of my bed. I kick, hard, and he lets go and backs off.
"Be that way, just be out of bed by ten."
"Ten?" I ask, awake now.
"Yes, which gives you two minutes to wake up."
I jump out of bed and am across my room in a flash, searching my drawers. My father stares in disbelief.
"I am meeting Adele at Starbucks in fifteen minutes!"
My dad leaves the room as I pull out my bra and add it to the pie of clothes on my bed. I pull my black jeans over my blue frog underwear, dancing around my room- they're a bit tight. After struggling with the straps of my B cup bra, I pull on a shirt. Running down the stairs as I fasten my favorite studded belt, I nearly collide with my father as he meets me in the hall.
"I'm assuming you need a ride, sweetie, considering you are thirteen years old and won't be able to drive yourself anywhere for quite a few years now."
"Yeah, that'd be great dad!" I spin around and back up the stairs. "Be there in a minute!"
My father says nothing as I run back into my room to search for my glasses. Conveniently, they are right on my bedside table, where I swear I leave them every night, but they are never there.
I rush back down the stairs, out the door, and into my father's silver Porsche. The engine revs and we head out of the driveway.
All this rushing, just to meet Adele at Starbucks.