Dib's POV
The surreal worlds around me - pounding in my ears, blazing in my eyes, invading my nostrils and ruling my entire body - suddenly disappeared in an instant; killed dead by the wailing torment that streamed from atop my desk.
"Uh . . . shit . . ." I groaned, and with great effort my hand stretched out and slapped across the irritating clock. It immediatly shut up, and for not the first time I cursed Dad's stupid lab assistant for buying it for me.
Today was Wednesday; the sight of the calender made me curse again. My Wednesday timetable was my least favorite of the entire week. Muttering oaths I kicked the duvet off of my body as I lifted myself out of the softest, most comfortable bed in the world, and reached out for my glasses. From the back of my desk chair I snatched up the clean clothes I had set out the night before. Stretching the sleep from my groggy limbs, I headed out of the center point of my haven.
I was barely pass the threshold of my bedroom when my eyes located my sister, also heading from her room in the same direction as me. Our movements froze in unison; each attempting to stare the other down. Adrenalin rippled; and an eruption of energy burst into the pair of us as we suddenly charged towards the bathroom. My legs and arms were longer than that of my little sister; my fingertips stretched far and brushed against the doornob.
"No you don't, faggot!" roared Gaz, leaping upon me, the muscles in her arms flexing. Her glamorously manicured fingernails dug painfully into my arm, pulling me backwards from the door. Despite being a year my junior she had always been stronger than me; ever since she was seven. I felt myself skid, and suddenly I was on the floor, looking upwards as Gaz slammed the bathroom door behind her.
"Beautiful," I grunted, picking myself up. A fresh bruise was beginning to flower beneath my skin where she had grabbed me. I then yelped in rage when I heard the shower switching on, knowing that I was not going to get my turn now before skool. If Gaz heard me then she paid no attention, instead choosing to switch on the shower radio. Sighing in irritance, I scooped up my fallen clothes and headed towards the toilet on the ground floor, where I was at least able to relieve myself and have a quick wash with the sink and sponge. I threw on a clean t-shirt, jeans, and my ever present wrist band; a recent addition to my appearance. Satisfied, I tucked the precious gold chain beneath my t-shirt and moved into the kitchen.
I had long since given up on eating at breakfast time. Not because of anorexia or laziness, but simply because I never found myself with an appitite in the morning. Gaz often said that this was the reason I was such a skinny prick; I was more inclined to believe that it was genetic. Since Dad was hardly ever at home during the day it was left to me and Gaz to feed ourselves, and more often than not I replaced my meals with potato chips and candy, and other snack foods. Yet it did not seem to matter how much junk food I ate, at the end of it all I always remained stick-thin.
On the stove I set the coffee pot on to boil. Whilst I waited I double-checked my pre-packed bag to ensure that I had my supplies for the day. The sight of my timetable made me cringe: tutorial in the morning, followed by English language, social and health studies, double trig, and double French - my least favorite subjects. I knew that I was top of my year in most classes - my grades always proved that - but it did not stop the lessons being the most hidious torture imagiable. Not to mention that my timetable matched Zim's exactly.
Wanting to forget the upcoming agony I sought for something to distract me. In the living room I found my Crop Circles magazine hidden down the back of the couch, and grinned. Perfect, I thought, and took it back into the kitchen. By this time the coffee was ready. I poured a slug into a mug and added sugar, before carrying it over the table and sitting down. I blew on the rim and sipped my drink; it was strong and sweet - just how I liked it. Smiling in the knowing that I was comfortable and happy, for the time being at least, I opened my magazine and started to read, glad of no Dad home to distract me.
There were very few reasons that I found were good about Dad not ever being around, one of which being that he could no longer ridicule me over my interests in the paranormal. Everyone had thought my obsession was nothing more than a childish activity that I would grow out of. How wrong they had been. I no longer attempted to convince other people of the existence of Zim and other alien creatures, but that did not stop my own investigations. I was still a member of the Swollen Eyeballs Network; we all met up once every six months to discuss our findings, but aside from them no one ever believed me. Dad was the worst. Ever since I was four he had tried to convince me to abandon my interests in favor of 'real science'. I was relieved when I reached the age of fourteen, and he flatly gave up on me. I think it was this disappointment that convinced him to avoid the house as much as possible. Generally he left for work ridiculously early in morning, and came home again long after Gaz and I were asleep. In reality I no longer cared. I was not going to give up my beliefs just because he said so, and it had long since past the point of any chance of a relationship being rekindled between us.
"There'd better be coffee left." Gaz's harsh voice sounded from the doorway. I could smell the sharp scent of her favorite shampoo.
"In the pot," I replied without looking up from Crop Circles. I heard my sister move about the kitchen, fetching herself coffee and cereal, the beeping emulating from her cell phone sounded all the while as she texted away. I paid no attention to her activities, even when she sat opposite me with her breakfast. Just as there was no chance of developing a relationship with my dad, there was no love lost between me and Gaz. I was four when our mom died; since that day Dad had started leaving us on our own for longer periods of time. I hated him for it. With no real parental figure around Gaz had looked to me to be the parent - but I could not do it. I was a child myself, and I too wanted nothing more than a mother and father to play with me, and guide me, and show me what to do when I was lost or confused. I could not be the parent that Gaz craved.
As a result a deep and unrepairable rift had imposed itself between us. Gaz resented me for not being the father she had expected of me. And I resented her for not understanding that I too was just a kid in need of parental love.
Gaz's phone beeped again. Seconds later she said, "I'm going to Bloaty's tonight, so don't wait up for me for dinner."
"Whatever," I grunted without surprise. The Wednesday night Game Slave club always went to Bloaty's Pizza Hog. It would have made more sense for Gaz to inform me if the meal out was cancelled.
As I turned the page of my magazine I caught sight of time on the stove: 8:43am - I shoved Crop Circles into my bag to read later during break and stood up. "We're gonna have to leave soon," I said, and swallowed the last of my coffee. Gaz always shoveled her food down fast; she now moved to gather her belongings for skool. Over the years she had grown from a threatening little girl into a formidable young woman. Now at the age of sixteen she continued to dress herself in Gothic atire; her black mini dress was fastened with lace and jewles, matching her tight skull choker and the silver and black beads fastened into her hair. A beautiful heartbreaker was my sister.
"Good. I need to stop by an ATM," said Gaz, tightening the straps on her pointy Goth boots. Heading to the front door she shoved past me as though I was nothing more than a hat stand. A loose chain on her bag whipped into my bare arm, breaking skin, drawing blood. I groaned.
Great. Just great. Skool hadn't even started and I was already bleeding.
Today was going to be a good day, I could just tell.
"Hurry up, fag! I said I need to get to an ATM!" yelled Gaz.
Biting back an unwise response I heaved on my trench coat and slung my bag onto my shoulders, following Gaz out of the house, leaving behind my safe and welcoming haven.
