-1Extraordinary- Chapter Six: Everyday, and Never Again

plummet: I apologize for the delay of this chapter. I've been loaded down with school work for the past month and a half. Seriously, I swear that teachers only give work when they really have to. It's like they're lazy the entire second semester and don't do anything, and then they decide to cram everything they've neglected to do into the last semester. Ugh. Anyhow, I had gotten a request from a reviewer to post some kind of notification of P.O.V. change. I've taken it to heart and decided to do just that. Hope it's easier to read now.

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Happiness is a matter of one's most ordinary everyday mode of consciousness being busy and lively and unconcerned with self. To be damned is for one's ordinary everyday mode of consciousness to be unremitting agonising preoccupation with self.

…-Iris Murdoch (b. 1919)

I rolled over onto my side and hissed softly from the pain. Clenching at the stitch in my side, I stared blearily at the buttercup yellow walls of my bedroom. I have never, ever in my entire life exercised that much. My calves burnt from the lactic acid build up, and my joints were aching from the abuse they had recently been put through.

Gym. Such an innocent, three-letter word. Pfft. They should call it something more sinister, something like 'E.T.Y.D' (exercise 'til you drop). Sounds kind of evil, doesn't it? It'd sure give us out-of-shape people some hint of what's to come, anyway.

I had gym last period of the day. All I can say is, good thing it wasn't immediately after lunch because I know for sure I would've seen more of what little I'd eaten than I'd ever wanted to.

No one I knew was in gym. I guess my luck had run out for last period, but I'm not complaining. It's not like I actually wanted anyone I knew to see me sweating profusely and flailing my arms around like a deranged chicken with its head cut off, anyhow. Normally I would've been embarrassed, but then I was too busy trying not to die. What, not acquainted with my sarcastic side? Sarcasm, meet reader-person; reader-person, Sarcasm. Delighted, I'm sure.

Coach Boomer hadn't forgiven me for my incident this morning, and I couldn't really blame him. His grey sweatshirt was still pretty damp, after all. Not like I'm sympathizing with him or anything. As far as I'm concerned, he deserved it. I can't even begin to fathom all the crap he's given kids over the years. It's about time he got his just deserts, and it's just as well that it was from me.

"Ow…" I moaned pitifully as I accidentally bumped my thighs together.

Okay, maybe it would've been better if he'd been bent on killing someone else. My thighs could've been spared some pain, at least.

They only good thing I can say about E.T.Y.D is that there aren't any uniforms we're required to wear. Really, if anyone who had previously worn them sweated like I did…Ew. Gross, let's not think about that right now. Really good thing I remembered deodorant then, eh? Yeah, for the most part myunderarms smelt of 'raspberry rain'.

Cheery thoughts, cheery thoughts….Hmm…Alright, period 7 it is. Right after Chorus I moseyed on over to my next class, Art, which was conveniently right down the hall from the chorus classroom. I arrived early (big surprise there), and I immediately took back what I said about the chorus room being my favorite. The Art room, with it's magnificent bay windows overlooking the concourse now soaked from the rain, trees swaying with the storm breeze…It was welcome sight, not only because of its dark beauty, but mainly because, for once in my life, I wasn't the cause of it.

It was freeing, knowing that I at least had control over my emotions while everything else in my life was slowly unraveling itself. It empowered me, made me feel as if I could do more than just sit back and watch as everything fell apart. Not to say I had the slightest clue as to how I was doing it, though. Now that would be too easy.

I had taken a seat near one of the windows and proceeded to stare absently out of it at a willow tree for the remainder of the class, my time spent there remembered as an indescribable blur of words, colors and feelings.

And then there was E.T.Y.D. You all know how that went. And now…Now there's me, lounging on my bed and thinking about…thinking about Sophie.

I sighed, deciding it was time I sat up and stretched out my aching muscles. Levering my body off the bed with an arm, I hobbled over to the desk in the far corner of my room, lowering myself slowly down onto its corresponding chair. I opened the top left drawer, fetching out some floral stationary and fountain pens that I'd discovered when browsing around the night before. I put the pen to the paper, and the words I had kept unbidden flowed out from me like an uncontainable liquid:

Dear Sophie,

Hi, Hon. It's Big Sissy Ammie. How've you been? I haven't been too great, you know, 'cause I miss you so much. I'm really sorry for leaving you like this, babe. I left because I had to, not because I wanted to.

I barely held back tears at what I forced myself to write next.

Don't worry, though. We'll see each other again. I promise.

Tears fell treacherously onto the parchment and my fingers shook as I continued to write.

When you learn how to write letters, I want you to write to me. You can tell me about everything. Nothing is every too silly. Before I go, I want you to know that I love you, sweetie. Don't ever forget that.

Your Big Sister,

Ammie

I quickly folded the letter, shoving it inside its matching envelope and sealing it in one fluid motion. My eyes had dried after I'd signed it at the bottom. I could no longer cry. The letter was ended and with it, my duty to Sophie. As much as it pained me to accept it, she was on her own now. The only thing I could down now was pray that the Sisters passed my letter on to her. Even if I couldn't write again, this letter would be enough. I hoped so, anyhow.

I gently stuck a stamp on the envelope corner after writing the forwarding and return addresses. Reverently, I placed the finished product in the front of my backpack to be delivered tomorrow. There was a mailbox on the street corner near my bus stop.

I was just about to stand up when Mrs. Ashcroft's voice carried upstairs,

"Amelie dear, dinner's ready!"

With one last look at my pack, I hobbled out of my room with as much dignity as I could muster. I would live on, for Sophie's sake…and mine.

-Warren's P.O.V.-

I slipped out my apartment key from my back pocket with practiced ease, sliding into the key hole and unlocking the door. I stepped inside and slipped off my shoes without a thought, kicking them unceremoniously to the side of the door mat. I eased my pack off my shoulder, got a firm grip on the strap, and carelessly tossed it onto the couch.

Like everyday, I had to fight the insane urge to shout, "I'm home!" into the empty apartment. My logical side knew the only answer I'd receive would be an echo and then, resounding silence…But my subconscious didn't. It still fruitlessly hoped I'd get a response. Fat chance that'd happen anytime in the next millennia.

So, like everyday, I instead said nothing, figuring that if I ignored the urge it would pass. And again like everyday, it did. It took a little longer today as I gazed at the signs of life in the living room: coats and shoes strewn about on the backs of the chairs and various spots on the floor, an old microwavable dinner tray on the coffee table, some half-empty cups stacked on top of the stereo speaker…All of them remnants of my mother's nighttime routine.

She had been working odd jobs ever since…Well, ever since my father had been put in jail. She had to, or so she said when I'd upped enough gusto to question her about it. And that was the end of that conversation. We don't talk much anymore now that he's gone. It'd torn her, his permanent absence, in more ways than I could ever count.

She didn't work because we needed the money. No, with the stuff in the bank plus the money I earn from my regular shifts in at the family restaurant, the Paper Lantern, we could've done just fine without her working more than her normal eight hours. But she needed to keep moving. This she didn't tell me. Like I said, we don't talk much. I had figured it out on my own by the scarce glimpses I caught of her in the early mornings. The ever-present dark circles under her once sparkling brown eyes, her now worn hands shaking as she drank her black coffee…She's always troubled, even in her sleep.

Yet it still remains a mystery as to why I'm friends with my dad's jailer's son. I guess it really wouldn't be fair if I'd held a grudge against Stronghold because of something his dad did, I see that now. But since when have I cared about fairness? Was it fair that my mother had to suffer the loss of a husband and her son, a father? No, it wasn't. Fairness could kiss my ass. And it's not like I'm that good of friends with Stronghold, anyway. Okay, Peace. Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night…

I strode into the kitchen, getting a soda out from the fridge and popping it open. Sitting down at the island, I took out a novel from the kitchen bookshelf, immersing myself in it for the time being. That's one thing my mom had still kept up, her collection of fiction novels. All the better to pass whatever spare time she had with, I guess. Not that I'm complaining. It benefited both parties, after all.

By the time I was on chapter five of whatever book I was reading (I hadn't cared to glance at the title), I'd finished my soda. Without looking up from the novel in my hand, I chucked the empty can over my shoulder and into the garbage. Perfect shot…Same deal everyday.

Did I ever need a life.

A special thanks to:

in THEgrid is where I live, Element Girls, horsebookworm, Kara Adar, and shadowphoenix101, thank you all for reviewing chapter five. Well, those of you who wanted me to update…Here you go. And I have good news. The summer is coming up (duh), and I'll have no life for about a month when school lets out, so…I'll be writing. Lol. Any suggestions, comments, please leave them! Ttfn.