Lucky Me
Chapter 015
This was worse than a Teletubby, Barney, and Blues Clues month long marathon on Nickelodeon.
This was worse than standing between the Jenny Craig drop-outs and the nearest candy bar.
This was-this was in a league of its own.
And sadly, I was the only one in the league playing for keeps with my sanity.
A whole week in Daisy Meagon Bloome's room and it would do it to the best of anyone. I should have known I would be strangled by her cookie (yum...) like sweetness, but her odd obsessions and scheduled living rivaled the Cookie-Bandit-Summers! The first night I went in there I just stood in the doorway, clutched the things that had survived the attack (me, a small bag of clothes, and my de-fluffed Stitch), and gawked like a tourist into her room.
Despite our shopping trip when she bought all black bed things and curtains, the room screamed teenager or, more accurately, teenage girl! There were stuffed animals everywhere, clothes jammed into the closet, and posters of every chick-flick movie since 2008. Also, she had an extensive, yet strangely impressive, collection of posters of all the boy bands I knew, and some I didn't. Her CDs where everywhere! Twilight played on the television (how come I never got one? TV, not the movie) while one of the previously mentioned boy bands blasted through the radio.
I should have made a break for it then.
In fact, I started to back up thinking that the Rec. room couch was a blessing compared to this teen magazine inspired nightmare, but before I could run , I heard a high pitched 'Hi!' ring in my ears.
"Guess your stayin' with me!" She chirped, bounced past me and into her room. "Well come on, I don't know about you, but I am so tired." D-M scrunched up her face and then started to sing with the song on the radio.
I scrunched up my face, too, and stuck out my tongue at her back. This was only day one and if the words 'let's do each other's hair' came from her mouth, I was going back to my room and sleep in the closet.
"Up and attem, lazy daisy!" was the first noise I heard, my groan of disgust was the second. "Got to wake up! Up! Up! Pop up! Up! Up!" the annoying thing sang. Cracking an eye open to the nauseatingly cheery, sun-filled room I narrowed in on the thing that woke me up.
It was an alarm clock, shaped like a daisy dancing in a little plastic pot.
Leave it to a girl named Daisy-Mae to have the stupidest things on earth and for me to have the worst luck on earth to be stuck with her. I yawned from where I lay on the floor, rolled over, and covered my face with the loaned blanket from Miss Rogue that smelled like magnolias. Guess you can take the girl out of the country, and well, so on.
I didn't hear her give a protest to being woken up so early; instead she just sighed and from what I guessed, left her bed. If she was nice, D-M wouldn't bother me, if she was smart, she wouldn't bother me.
"Keeerrrrrrreeeee," she sang loudly.
Okay, so she was not nice and not the brightest star in the sky.
"Wwwhaaaaaaat?" I mocked and peeked from under my cover.
"Time to get up up, up!" Daisy-Mae out, crooned as she skipped and jumped around her room, getting ready for the day. I swear she's not natural. She's like a monster that killed with kindness!
"No."
"Come on! Scott's not gonna like you sleepin' in," she chided.
I had to literally bite my tongue to keep the thought about what the Cookie-Nazi could shove and where.
"No."
One eyebrow rose, followed by a smirk. I've never seen her smirk before. I don't think I like it. It creeped me out.
"Oh come on, you want to meet the guys don'tcha?"
My tiny kitten of curiosity reared her trouble-causing head, and within one heartbeat was a roaring lioness of need-to-know knowledge.
"Guys?" Come on, I was still a teenage girl.
Again, Daisy smirked, crossed her arms in triumph, and looked down at me.
"Thought that would getcha."
She's a dirty trickster that was being booted down the 'like' list in my book. No, I wasn't referring to the devilish Daisy; I was talking about Mrs. Jean. Just as I thought I could trust a person, the woman went and pulled something like that on me.
"Come help me make lunch," she said, with a smile. A smile that made me think she was being nice and honest."It'll be fun."
Like a true, trusting moron, I agreed. I was only too happy to not be in D-M's presence or to have to go to the laundry room again. So around eleven thirty I tiptoed into the kitchen where Mrs. Jean and Mr. Remy were giving each other the patent 'glare-of-death'.
Oh, I tried to turn tail and run, but they didn't let that happen. Mrs. Jean's eyebrow twitched as she looked over at Mr. Remy, who glared back at her. I swear I thought they were going to start devouring each other in a second's time.
"Kerry," came a stiff acknowledgement that led to proof that Mrs. Jean was defiantly Mr. Summers' (the cookie stealer!) other half. "I want you to try this," she commanded as she shoved a fork with a piece of meat on the end of it at me.
"Now wait, chere, dere's no need to force feed her dat, I'm sure she'd rather something good." Mr. Remy-well, I hoped he had a last will and testament.
"Gam-bit," Mrs. Jean bit his codename (?) in two parts, and then seemed to get an evil idea, "Fine. Let her try yours first, after all 'save the best for last' right?"
Next time I say to 'run' I had better listen to me. I had two forks thrust at me, and like a true dork, took them out of their hands, and did not look up. I could feel their gazes resting on me. Talk about a no-win situation.
And the ultimate loser?
Me.
I won't say who I let win, because it's obvious in my punishment.
A day later, I awoke before that stupid daisy (just pick one of them and you wouldn't be wrong) by Miss Rogue. She said just because I didn't have a room that was intact, did not mean I could stop my training. So once again, I was standing in the gym, yawning, and trying to stand up straight without swaying.
"Nice to see you're a morning person."
"Mr. Warren?" I yelped and looked around for where the owner of the voice was hiding. Sure enough, there he was. In the corner next to a crutch, lounged in a foldout chair, and just staring at me.
He was okay? Taking in his sight, including his wings, I decided that, no, he wasn't all better. Instead, Mr. Warren's wings were wrapped up tightly in several places. I shivered despite myself, as my wings shifted around me slightly as if to keep me warm.
I was about to say-wait a second! These stupid things were obeyed me...again?
"Looks like you're gaining more control," Mr. Warren pointed out, stood up, and walked over to me. What, was the crutch is just for show?
Now, had I been smart, I would have laughed it off and said that yes indeed I was learning how to control my wings and wasn't it a lovely day? But did I? Noooo. That would have been way to smart on the Kerry-intell-o-meter.
"But I-I didn't tell it anything-they did it on-their own?"
It took about two seconds before the man burst out laughing, "On their own?"
"Y-yeah," I stammered, feeling my cheeks start to burn. Why couldn't I be all black again, at least no one could tell when I blushed! As it was, my skin was already coming back (the peach color) on my legs and arms. My face didn't even peel this time (man, when did I get so casual about skin falling off?).
"Kerry, 'they'" Mr. Warren said, still trying not to laugh about my stupid presumptions (spending time with Dr. Hank is really paying off). "Only 'listen' to you. Maybe you've been thinking about it too hard."
What, did I have trails of smoke coming out of my ears?
"How often do you tell your arm to rise so you can get something off the shelf?"
I stared at him blankly.
"Never, you really don't think about what you do, you just do it, right?"
I quirked an eyebrow, "Right?"
"Same thing with the wings, you don't think or tell them what to do, you just do it."
Easy for him to say, but not for me to do. When he got closer to me (oh, yeah, he started a speech I tuned out) I noticed that the bandages where speckled with a brown color. B-b-blood? I felt queasy; the feather I nabbed from Dr. Hank's was safe inside my broken and fluffless Stitch doll in D-M's room.
"...and then you bend your leg..." I yawned in boredom, Mr. Warren ignored this apparently. "...and bust a bottle of wine over the boat..." Yeah yeah-huh?!
"Come again?" I asked, the last part caught me off guard.
"I didn't think you were paying attention." He then gave me a death glare. What was up with these people and their stares lately?
"I'll listen, I'll listen!"
"Good. There's going to be a quiz over what I say later."
I laughed nervously. He didn't. Ut-uh, guess he was serious.
He was.
I flunked the quiz.
