Oh dear god. I'm sorry, everyone. I've posted this twice, because I can never remember these damn author's notes. I've only got three today, and they're short, so don't worry. One: Updates aren't going to be too often, now that my weeks are pretty much filled up until April. Legack. Two: Thanks to Jusmine. Many many thanks. Three: I do not own Alex Rider.
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"Sad is happy for deep people."
Jack liked the flowers. She smiled and looked at me as if she expected me to smile back. So I bit back the unfamiliarity and curled my lips.
It wasn't much, but her eyes warmed up some.
And then the phone rang.
.".".".
One month later
There's a bruise on my face. When I have lunch with Ms. Bedfordshire tomorrow, she's going to wonder. Hopefully she won't ask, though.
On the upside (which shouldn't be up. For any other kid, it would be down. Then again, I'm not exactly a kid), it wasn't too bad this time. A lot of threats and a couple hits, but otherwise I'm fine. There wasn't much of a fight this time. I think the guy realized that maybe I just wanted it over with.
For the first time, the bad guy listened. Kind of. It was weird, to say the least.
But it's getting late, and I need some sleep, even if it'll only be an hour or two.
.".".".
I don't want to do anything for MI6 anymore. I don't know how to stop, though, or even if I can. Not the blackmail part, of course, but the other stuff. No one ever told me that being chased around by bad men with guns was addicting.
It has to stop.
I guess I should probably figure out how, but I don't want to. Not now. I just want to go to sleep.
.".".".
When I wake up, school is over. Jack called me in sick and brought home some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups minis.
When people say Reese's, it gets on my nerves. Everyone calls it Reese's, said like recess or something. But it's really said like reesees, with a stretch in the e at the end. It said so on a commercial once, I think.
.".".".
I think I should become a rebel. Dress in black. A John Lennon youth. Disenfranchised. All I need now is alcohol, cigarettes, and an American country singer.
And some hair dye. I heard somewhere that no rebel has blond hair.
.".".".
When I finally roll out of bed, it is six o'clock in the evening. I groggily walk down the stairs and find Jack watching the news.
Jack hates the news.
"Wha's hap'ned?" I yawn out.
"An apartment building in D.C.'s burned down," she answers.
"Oh. What day is it?" I ask, suddenly awake. I notice that the living room smells like lemon Febreze. Jack hates Febreze – the commercials get on her nerves. She doesn't see the difference between it and the regular grocer brand, either.
"Halloween, Alex. It's Halloween," she replies. She manages to keep her voice under control. I've always managed to keep up with the holidays, even after some stuff that'd make you cringe.
Was I really gone that long? That's fan-bloody-amazing.
Oh god. Did I really just say (think. You don't have conversations with yourself in your head. You are not schizophrenic yet) fan-bloody-amazing? What does that mean? Fanamazing?
I really am going wonky, then.
"Oh," I whisper back.
"Did you know my friend from high school lives in that building? Lived, I should say. She had her fifteen seconds of fame on the telly a moment ago."
Huh. Telly. I guess that means Jack has started to adapt.
"Television, sorry."
Guess not.
"I should give her a call, later. I think I still have her cell phone number somewhere…" Jack gets up and walks into the kitchen. I remember I should apologize for her friend, but something in my mind says it's too late now.
It's too late for a lot, I guess.
.".".".
I tackle the homework I had to do before I left and end up going to bed around nine (a whole three hours of waking moments… congrats, Al! You're really making a lot of progress!) as to get sleeping over with.
I wake up still feeling the screams vibrating in my throat. It was a particularly brutal night.
You'd think that the night after the mission would be the worst night. It's not, because I'm basically dead on my feet. It's like being knocked out on anesthesia – a dreamless sleep.
The night after is always the worst because you can remember everything. There hasn't been any time for the memories to fade.
I should probably see a shrink, even though I already know I'm crazy.
.".".".
Yet another rainy day in England. Why does anyone stay here?
(Because they're blackmailed, lied to, and cheated on. Everyone ends up coming here and never being able to get out.)
(Or maybe that's just me.)
.".".".
School is not particularly enjoyable.
Science: It Girl is still a bitch and doesn't trust me with the Bunsen Burners or chemicals. Probably thinks I'll find some way to make drugs or blow up the classroom.
I've already blown up the classroom(s). Why would I want to do it twice?
English: The teacher wants my What I Did Over the Summer essay. I gave her my three-sentence thing and she gave me The Look That Teachers Think Intimidates People.
I was not intimidated.
Geometry: I think the teacher likes me. Or maybe he's new. He told me to read the book and do a couple problems for make-up and that was it.
I knew there was a reason to like maths.
HELL: Andrea got up my ass about being gone so long. Mark said I was off doing "stuff" with Andrea and Sarah over the weekends and they were covering up for me. Sarah turned bright red and Mark waggled his eyebrows.
I don't think the teacher noticed I was gone. He handed me a pan and told me to tell Mark to shut up and get the cookie dough out of the fridge.
Lunch: Mrs. Bedfordshire asked me how being sick was. I told her it was no fun and I wished I wasn't ever sick again.
I think she understood that I wasn't talking about being sick.
British History: I did not attend. I don't think I would have been able to put up with Mr. Wexler. Besides, I have to keep up with my disenfranchisedJohnLennonbadboy image. (Insert snort here.)
On a different note, the custodians are really keeping the boys bathrooms cleaner.
Gym: That was an epic fail. I was sore and tired. I think Mr. Wiseman noticed. He told me to sit the rest of class out once warm-ups were finished.
Art: I'm really out of the loop. We've moved on from apples to her used coffee mugs. She must be running out of things for us to draw.
Poltuck was an ass in the halls, and I think Tom looked at me once the entire day.
School ought to be illegal. Then again, I'd probably be forced to go every day if it was.
.".".".
When I get off the bus (have to find money for a bike soon), I'm in a regular mood. Regular for me, anyway.
I'm walking up my house's steps when I see a bird begin to devour a worm stuck on the sidewalk.
And they say animals are so different from people.
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:)? :(? :/? Sorry for posting twice (again).