When I wake up from my unplanned nap, I'm still feeling all kinds of horrible, and I'm half-tempted to roll over and try to go back to sleep. However, there's a knocking sound at the door, and by the sounds of it, it's getting more and more impatient. Rubbing my slightly-swollen eyes, I kick aside shreds of cut-doll hair and head downstairs to get the door.
The last person I'm expecting to greet me is Artie's twelve-year old sister, Katie. I sort of look down at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering why this particular Abrams has come to pay me a visit instead of the one I'm actually, you know, friends with.
"Katie?" I say, definitely curious. "What are you doing here?"
"Stop making my brother so sad," she says. The kid, all four-feet of her, gives me this withering glare, and I'm left wondering what the heck I did.
"Excuse me?" I stammer, definitely more confused now than I was at the start of this particular conversation.
"Artie's been trying to call you all afternoon," she says, her tone still annoyed. "But you're not picking up your phone and he's refusing to come over here so I'm stuck playing delivery."
I look down and notice that Katie's got my schoolbag slung over one of her shoulders. "Oh." I'm really not sure what else to say. It's not every day a middle schooler tries to give you the third degree.
She unceremoniously drops the bag at my feet, and I grab it and quickly shove it in the foyer. "Thanks for bringing it over."
Katie just rolls her eyes at me and I'm starting to wonder why on earth I'm letting myself get sassed by a little kid, so I glare back. However, with my red eyes and runny makeup, the glare is anything but intimidating.
"Artie and you had another fight, right?" she says, in a no-nonsense tone.
"Yeah, so?" I'm getting defensive.
"Fix it and make it better." Katie gives me a little smile now. It's nowhere near as nice as the ones she usually gives me, so I know she's still angry at me. (What for? I'm still not quite sure.)
"It's not that easy," I say, knowing my excuse is lame the minute it leaves my lips.
"You made it work after the last big fight you guys had, and I don't think this one is probably as bad." Katie shrugs.
"It's weird," I admit. "But thanks for bringing my bag back."
"You said that already." Katie shakes her head, then starts to turn and head back down my driveway. "Good luck," she calls out over her shoulder as she's about to start down the sidewalk.
I'm left scratching my head as I trudge back upstairs to my room. Despite what she's just said, I really don't know if I want to talk to Artie just yet. The little curl of hope in my chest at the thought that Artie might not be too mad at me is one thing, but I can't help but be afraid things are just going to be smashed into a hundred tiny pieces, like the last time I did something sort of reckless (or at least, spoke first without really thinking things through).
With an annoyed little frown crossing over my features (since when did my life get so freaking complicated, anyway?), I decide to bury myself in busy work. This starts with me vacuuming up the mess of cut doll hair, for starters, then I move on to finishing the rest of my homework, and I finally know it's gotten bad when I've taken out the feather duster and am meticulously dusting all of the various Korean knickknacks and mementos my parents keep on a bookshelf in the dining room.
My cell phone rings and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden noise, but the ring's not White and Nerdy this time, so I answer the phone without really thinking about it.
"What's up with you and Wheels this time?" Mercedes is screeching into phone and I instinctively pull it away from my ear.
"I really don't want to talk about it," I say, settling into one of the dining room chairs, beginning to absently toy with the duster. "I really, really don't."
"You know I'm on your side during all of this, right?" Mercedes' voice has a warning tone to it, and I'm getting the sinking feeling that she's going to probably yell at me because of whatever's happened this time.
"I did something impulsive, it backfired," is all I will say. "I don't wanna talk about it, okay?"
"I'm calling Kurt, we'll come over. You're at home, right?"
"I'm fine!" I say into the phone, only I'm more yelling than speaking. I know that they both mean well, but I just want to end this conversation and wallow alone. "I just wanna be by myself for a bit."
"Girl," says Mercedes, "it must be serious. You never like being alone. Kurt and I will be there in ten… no, make it fifteen." The call ends with a defiant click, and I'm left staring at the phone for several minutes, struck speechless.
In fact, I'm still staring at the phone when there's a determined knock on the front door sometime later, and (because I forgot to lock the door after Katie left) soon enough, Kurt and Mercedes are both barging in to the dining room, where I'm still sitting, staring at my cell phone, holding the feather duster limply in my other hand.
Kurt's got movies and ice cream and chocolate, and Mercedes leans forward and takes the cell phone gently from my hands, followed by the feather duster. I'm still sitting there, just sort of staring off into space, wondering, because honestly? This was not at all how I expected my day to go in the slightest.
I'm not really sure how long I sat there for, just sort of frozen, but I immediately come back to life the minute I overhear Kurt mention something about makeovers.
"Makeover? What?" I say, shaking my head, a worried look on my face. The last time Kurt said something about makeovers, I'd been drafted into doing that ridiculous Single Ladies routine. (Which to be perfectly honest was a lot of fun, but those stupid heeled shoes nearly caused me to sprain my ankle and let's not get into that unitard… thing.)
"Girl, you were starting to worry me, staring off into space like that." Mercedes' tone is gentle, which lets me know in an instant that I must look like a wreck. I turn to her and she gives me a hug, then together the three of us head into the living room to eat ice cream and chocolate and watch movies. Even though both of them are dying to ask me what happened, aside from several curious looks (every ten minutes; I was half tempted to start timing it) directed my way, they seem to respect my desire to not talk about it.
For the most part though, I'm only half paying attention to everything. The last time Kurt and Mercedes came over to my house and did something like this, I was a crying mess, broken and hurt from the disaster that was my first date with Artie. The circumstances are eerily similar, although this time, I'm not crying. I'm just there, present in body, but not in mind. I feel …numb, actually.
I occasionally remember to chime in with something to say, but I'm not focused by any stretch of the imagination. By the time gets late enough that Mercedes and Kurt should probably go, they're not completely convinced that I should be here alone tonight. I absently agree to go shopping with them tomorrow; they look a little relieved and eventually this is what finally convinces them to leave.
After closing the door on them (and locking it this time), I retreat back upstairs to my room. After my impromptu nap this afternoon, plus being wired up on sugar from the evening with Mercedes and Kurt, sleep is out of the question. So instead, I take out a pair of scissors and a needle and thread, and I work on modifying some more of my clothes. There's something soothing about the task, and in a way, it's just as comforting as the movie night was.
I prick my finger on the needle around four in the morning, and I'm half-tempted to cry. Instead I suck at the small cut on my finger and laugh, because really, what else can you do?
---
Author's Note: A couple things this time.
1) I love you all for writing and reviewing and being made of awesome. Seriously, 37 reviews on this already?
2) A couple of you caught it, but Tina's doll haircutting fascination came from the official Glee website on FOX. Check it out, it's kind of an amusing site, especially the character bios.
3) I'm tentatively working on a fic entitled Perky Goth. It's meant to be a series of drabbles that will ultimately become a oneshot about Tina. Why she might've started stuttering, why she's not as goth as most people would expect, etc. I've hit a bit of a wall with it though, and am looking for people to talk Glee with... honestly, new friends to talk Glee with is always appreciated! E-mail me at madame [dot] maggie [at] gmail [dot] com if you're interested in being an idea-bouncer. :) Or catch me on AIM: PearlRose86
4) I think that's everything... unless you count the fact that snow is forecasted in Florida for this week. I believe my reaction was: "OMGWTFBBQ SNOW IN FLORIDA?!?!" Stay warm, everyone!
Reviews are love. ^^
