'Ring…'
'Ring!'
'RING!'
Damn my alarm clock!
I reached under my pillow and fumbled around for the annoying little mechanism, before holding it up in the light streaming through my blinds and lighting up my room.
It read '6:54'
With a sigh of resigned anger I forcefully switched it off. There. FINALLY!
Peace, in the soft peace I called my toasty warm bed. But if I didn't wake up I would be late, later than I already was. I sat up groggily at the foot of my bed and yawned. God! Today was hot, real hot.
It was still spring but with the global warming and all, the air seemed to be weighed down, and heavy with humidity. I heard light footsteps approach my door and I tried to make myself look more awake. Without even knocking, my sister barged in. From the look she gave me, I knew the 'trying-to-look-more-awake' thing wasn't working.
I dragged myself across the room and opened the door to my en suite toilet and kicked the door shut with my foot. I've never been a morning person, and probably never will. Apparently, this was the reason that I had never been popular. Well, at least according to my sister. Before I started high school, she had told me that first impressions were essential.
"Look like you belong." She had said to me all those years ago reminding me to wake up early to do my hair, and style myself.
Unfortunately for me, I had slept in that very first day and made a bad impression to say the least. Imagine a girl, bed-headed, bag in hand, and looking haggard. Not the type of girl who would be Miss Popular. Even though I missed the 'tide of popularity' I still have friends, not the type of friends that all the boys go for, nor do they attend extra-curricular activities such as cheerleading, but still, they're good friends, people who I can depend on and trust.
I stared into my huge mirror at my reflections and groaned. I know that I've never been one of those outstandingly beautiful people, but still, I couldn't complain about my looks. With light brown hair, round, heart shaped face and puppy brown eyes, I was practically your girl-next-door. I quickly finished brushing my teeth, taking care of my hair and stumbled with my extra large school bag down the staircase.
'Morning,' I said and stifled a yawn, when I finally reached the living room.
Dad barely looked up; Morning news was way more exciting than what I looked like right now.
Mum responded better and nodded towards the breakfast table
"The toast will get cold if you don't eat it soon."
"Oh." Cold toast was the last thing last thing on my mind.
My family has been on this strict diet ever since these weird diabetes-prevention promoters came to our door and started rambling on about the risk of diabetes in young people and blah blah blah that's was what I heard as I walked past the my parents, talking at the door that day.
Unfortunately though Dad got genuinely interested and even invited them inside to talk MORE. After hours of discussing and chatting and who knows what else, he finally ushered them out the door (much to their resentment). The promoters seemed to have blown a whole new personality into him. He successfully (regrettably for me) convinced mum into this bland healthy diet regime.
So here I am staring at my plate, with the now-cold toast on top, with a stingy spread of sunflower seed butter (how on earth do you make butter from a flower?) hoping that they didn't taste as bad as they looked. Trying hard to gobble them down fast, as to get rid of the bland taste as fast as possible and stomach churning texture. I seem to be the only member of our family to experience this problem. Well, apart from my brother Ethan. Even though he shares the same distaste for the various healthy foods that my dad introduced to us, particularly raisin toast, no one minds the fact that when it's time for breakfast, he just scoots off to some friend's house and eat there. He's always been like this, the rebellious type, and our parents have gotten used to it long ago.
When people first look at my family their first impression would be of Ethan, the charming boy who had good looks and bold personality, then they would notice Evvie, my sister, the beautiful and nice girl who was SRC president for four years in a row.
Finally, it would be me, Eg White. What do you think of my name? Interesting? Unique? Creative? Or just plain WEIRD? I have to say, I honestly don't know what my mum was thinking when she named me that. It's not that I hate it or anything, because after being stuck with it for fifteen odd years, I've actually gotten used to it. But still, I would have maybe preferred a much more subtle name, if I had a choice.
Apparently, according to Ethan and Evvie, mum was a bit abnormal when she had me. The story was that 'eg' was the first sound I made when I was born and mum found it cute and so adorable that she had to name me that. By the time I reached the age where I was old enough to understand that my name was one of certain strangeness, it had been too last to change the name. All my friends and teachers at school have gotten used to it long ago and of course, Ethan and Evvie though will still never let me forget about it.
I got to school just in time before the bell rang, and as I dawdled through the rusty front gate, I saw my friend, Mina waving enthusiastically and me. She was that kind of girl, happy and optimistic to the extreme. She was also the brain, the one who liked maths, offered to help you with anything you don't understand and was always the shoulder you can lean on.
I guess we fitted well, for two people who had basically nothing in common, well except our unusual names. As soon as I saw her, I began to quicken my pace and got to her in no time.
"So," she began "Did you bring your maths homework?"
Oh god, maths. I had completely forgotten about that between all the cold-toast and my freaking heavy bag.
"Maybe I temporary misplaced it?" I said
Serious, she was like my mum or something; she seems to be able to remember everything that I forget.
She tried to hold back a smile, "Well, it's due today."
"I know you want to do it, so I'll do you a favour and give you my maths book."
She smiled and shrugged like it was no big deal and held her hand out, "Better be quick, it's due in second period."
I smiled and started to unzip my bulky bag, it was then that I first heard the crackly sound. I stopped in fumbling with my bag and listened hard. Nothing. Still nothing.
Mina noted my sudden change in movement and asked, 'What's wrong?'
'Oh,' I mumbled as I came out of my daze, "Nothing it was just…never mind."
I was pretty sure that I imagined the buzzing thing, but then, just as I dismissed it as a daydream, it came back again. This time it was louder, and more distinct.
"Do you hear that?" I asked Mina who looked completely undisturbed.
"Hear what?"
By then I was completely perplexed. Why did no one else seem to be able hear the strange, loud sound?
Suddenly, I felt tug in my stomach, the ground seems to bend and distort and I watched as the world warp around me.
Then, I was in a deep, dark, nothingness.
