Nidus Dwellan | Pencraft | Scribere | Sketchbook | Canvas | Muse | Owl Me
Light.
It was coming in through the window.
. . .
What was -light- doing? Waking her up? She was suppose to be awake and out the door BEFORE light invaded her bedroom.
Which meant . . .
SHE WAS LATE!!!
“Sithspawn!” Amy Kasten shrieked, eyes flying open as reality slammed into her. With the grace of an elephant on ice, Amy tumbled out of her messy twin-sized bed, stepping on a CD case, swearing from the sharp pain, and then bumping into the corner of her desk, knocking several disks to the floor.
The digital clock read 7:05, the green-glowing numbers greeting her with their usual candor.
Not only was she late for her first class, but it was practically over! What kind of professor started class at six a.m. anyway?
Why hadn’t her alarm gone off? Why hadn’t Heather woken her up? Heather was always awake by 6:45, her first class beginning at eight. What good was a roommate when they forgot to wake you up?
Dashing across her somewhat unkempt bedroom, Amy had no time to think of delicious punishments, or how to simply chew Heather out. Class would be over at eight, but by the time she had dressed, showered, and crossed campus to Fulton Hall, it would be at least a quarter till. Well, cancel the shower. They’d have to put up with her wonderful morning stink, and she wouldn’t be the first college student to show up in her pajamas. Professor Kay wouldn’t scold her, but simply look down his long nose and thick-rimmed specs, and stare for several eternal moments.
It was a price she would have to pay.
Without further delay, Amy grabbed her books, shoved her feet into her sandals, and raced out into the tiny living room/ kitchen of the apart she and Heather shared.
“What’s the rush, Ames?”
Amy stopped dead in her tracks, spinning around to face the blonde girl sitting on the white stool beside the small counter. Heather was drinking a glass of orange juice, the empty jug sitting in the trash basket. The sleepy, calm appearance befuddled Amy. “I’m going to class!” she snapped, already her mind ticking off the precious seconds she was wasting.
Heather laughed, fingering one blonde pig-tail. “You’re funny.”
“Why is that funny? Nevermind.” Amy opened the door, prepared to dodge any traffic that might be in the halls.
“Amy! Classes are OVER!”
The second stretched out long, and slowly, Amy remembered. Today was their first day of freedom. The semester was over. No classes. She should be burrowed under her covers, avoiding the world for several more hours. No wonder alarm clock hadn’t gone off.
Blushing furiously, Amy shut the door, dropped her books, removed her sandals, and then turned to glare at Heather. “Why didn’t you TELL me?”
“I did,” Heather smiled. “Just know.”
“Shut-up. You’re starting to sound like me. It isn’t something I like hearing in the morning.” Feeling like the world’s dumbest idiot, Amy pulled up the other stool (which they’d found on a garage sale) and buried her face in her folded arms. “I could have slept IN!”
Heather patted the messy, dark-blonde head. “There, there. Oh, we’re out of orange juice, cereal, and everything else.”
“Aren’t we always?” Amy rubbed her eyes and yawned. “It’s your turn, isn’t it?”
“Nope. I’m leaving this morning, remember?”
“Maybe. Something your mother wants you to do.”
“Right.” Heather rolled her big, brown eyes. “Another wedding.”
“When will you be back?” They had decided after their freshman year at Ashbury University that they would rent out one of the small apartments just off-campus. Both had part-time jobs, and Amy happened to be related to the manager. It was a cheap rent of $250 a month. Their worst problem was keeping the fridge stocked. Over the summer break, the apartment would still be kept up, since both were planning on only returning “home” for a few weeks.
“Oh, just the week. Jimmy will be there.” Both girls shuddered. Jimmy was Heather’s older brother, and was as annoying as they came.
“You’re only doing it to get out of grocery-shopping,” Amy complained.
Heather grinned wickedly. “Yup. So, what’s your plans? Running up the phone bill with the JC?”
“Precisely. And grocery shopping,” Amy said. She frowned and drummed her fingers on the counter.
“What about your book?” Heather prompted. “You haven’t worked on it all week.”
The cardinal sin had been committed. Amy’s blue eyes glowered at her best friend. The book. That evil, rotten menace sitting on her desk beside the lap-top, little disk tucked just inside the cover of the notebook. It was the source of her irritation. The supreme agitation. It was going to be the first book she was going to be published, after enduring fifteen rejections on her other work, and finally managing to get a short story published in a small magazine. Short stories were not her forte, but it had been a start.
The problem was, this wonderful, electrifying novel she was going to make it big with couldn’t get past Chapter 5. It just sat there, staring at her as she duly conquered the world of college assignments and played around on her writing haven, the Jedi Council on the Internet.
“I’ll get on it,” Amy mumbled. “After some JC time, yes. MJ’s going to laugh at my fumble. I remember when she would tell me about -her- mornings.”
They talked a little longer, but soon Heather was in the shower and Amy was digging hopelessly through the cupboards for some food. Her stomach grumbled, and she decided after her own shower, she’d be raiding the closest Hy-Vee.
@@@@@@
Retreating to the pig-sty of a room, Amy started-up her laptop computer, and combed her dark-blonde hair into a sloppy ponytail.
“Good morning” the laptop greeted cheerfully.
“Ha. Sure.” Amy pulled her chair up to the cluttered desk and quickly logged-on. Already she could feel the anticipation course through her slightly sluggish veins. The JC was always a wonderful greeting to an already horrible day. “I’m in the mood for some Obi-torture,” she murmured to herself, biting a nail as she quickly scanned the screen. Oh, good, some PM’s.
Vaguely, she was aware of the shower turning off, and the stereo was switching CD’s. She never heard Heather come out and rummage around the apartment, already responding to two Private Messages. Heather peaked in on her friend, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as Amy laughed at one of the messages. While both nineteen-year-old girls shared a love of Star Wars, Heather thought Amy was sometimes a little overboard. Sure, it was fun reading her stories, and the others on the JC, and making fun of Little Ani, but one had to wonder if Amy was just a bit fanatical.
The keys on the laptop’s keyboard clicked softly as Amy responded to the most recent PM. Yup, she was out of it. “I’m leaving soon!” Heather called.
“See you next week,” Amy murmured, barely looking up. Heather chuckled to herself and left to finish packing.
@@@@@
About an hour later, Amy sat back in her chair, stretching her arms and cracking her knuckles. Well, she had read through her favorite threads, replied, PMed Lorena and MJ, and now she didn’t have anything delaying her from the evil, sithly novel.
//Maybe I should start a new story// Amy thought, looking thoughtfully at the screen. It had been a bit since she had last wrote a fic up on the board. Usually she couldn’t last two days without writing, but when majoring in English literature she had enough writing to do every day.
Yawning, her mind began to drift. Life was ironic. How on all of God’s green Earth had she wound up being a Star Wars fan? She’d hated it before, scoffed and laughed at those who’d been fans. It was a stupid, dorky, boys’ movie. But then, she’d seen the trailers to Episode 1, and had thought it looked interesting. Thus, had begun the deep love for the galaxy far away, and her obsession with writing Star Wars fan-fiction.
The small -ping- of the computer announced an instant message. Amy smiled when she saw the sender. Alex was awake from his night of partying. Her stomach gave a small, giddy twist. She and the junior had been dating for the past few months, and it had been wonderful. Best of all, he loved Star Wars as well. It would have been a real pity if he hadn’t, because she might not have been able to stand him otherwise.
__Morning, Ames. Thought you’d be awake__
__Of course. How was the frat party?__
__Usual idiots getting drunk. Anyway, what are you doing?__
__JC, what else?__
__Is that all your plans?__
__Have 2 go to the store. Bone dry__
__When? We’ll go 2gether. U r a girl, u know what to buy__
Amy laughed. __Haha. I’ll be ready in an hour__
“Thank you for yet another distraction,” Amy said happily. She had just enough time to get a shower, dress, and be out the door to meet Alex, whom lived in one of the dorms. Amy had never been one to procrastinate on a story (well, there was one exception), and now she was finally beginning to understand what many of the other authors had meant.
@@@@@
“Lucky Charms or Cinnamon Toast?” Alex asked cheerfully as Amy wheeled the grocery cart down Aisle 3 of the local Hy-Vee.
Amy frowned for a moment, studying the two boxes of her favorite cereals for a moment. “Both. They have coupons.”
“Any Honeycombs?”
“Those, too.” Amy glanced at her watch, scowling. It was going on eleven. Half they day had gone by had she was getting nowhere in her story, and she couldn’t help but think back to the latest story by Jane Jinn. Man, Obi-Wan was going to get a dose of torture soon! She couldn’t wait. And she really should get back on her novel. There was no sense in wasting this perfect day-off. The Boss had been generous enough, letting her have a day of peace before she got back to work at Walden Book Stores. She’d be working full-time most of the summer, and she couldn’t hold the book off forever. It’d be nice to be able to launch her career from the beginning, without worrying about expenses.
Of course, that was if the book ever was finished and was ever any good.
“ . . . hello? Coruscant to Amy!”
“Hmmm?” Amy snapped out of her daze, frowning at Alex’s exasperated face. “oh, I’m sorry, Alex. I was thinking.”
“Why don’t we move on from cereals?” Alex smirked, on cheek dimpling as he pushed the cart into the next aisle, narrowly missing three kids arguing over macaroni and cheese. Amy trudged after him, the twenty minutes spent in the Hy-Vee was already putting her in a foul mood. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by the desire to race home and begin typing. Her block was lifting, and she had to seize the moment or it would be lost for another four weeks.
Alex was randomly pulling items of the shelves as he strolled by. Amy was pretty certain she was not in need of baking soda, and surely that spinach can didn’t belong there. “Alex! Stop!” she called, hurrying down the aisle. Alex turned and smirked again, his dark eyes laughing and she suddenly remembered just how lucky she was. Alex was one of the top students, tall and with an athletic body, dark hair that curled gently, and he had a personally that most jocks didn’t. At least, not in Amy’s experience.
“We don’t need any of this,” Amy said, yanking several items out of the cart and shoving them in all the wrong places. She earned a look of stern disapproval from a blue-haired old lady near the applesauce.
Alex shrugged, shoving his hands in the pocket’s of his carpenter jeans. “You’re the female. You know what to get.”
Muttering under her breath, she took the cart. “Let’s hurry up, all right? The day’s wasting.”
It seemed that each precious minute she spent in the store was the demise of her writing career. Alex was trying to tell her about the party, which she had skipped out on, being so exhausted and not feeling well. His words barely registered, and she knew it was a funny story by the way his hands were exaggerating his voice, but somehow it faded as her mind took over.
It was her turn to randomly pull things off the shelf. Alex, being the dutiful boyfriend and smart enough not to point out Amy’s mistake, would retrieve the various items and placing them on any random shelf.
It was amazing that they ended up at the busy check-out with edible food.
“Your mind’s wandering,” Alex said after a moment.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m sorry, Alex. You know how I get when it comes to my writing.” She caught the suppressed eye-roll, and tried to ignore it. She must be such a boring girlfriend, and she had told him several times that he was not obliged to put up with her.
Alex kissed her forehead. “Yes, I do. How about we go and get some ice cream after this? You can tell me again about your story, and some witty thing you read on the board.”
“I’d really rather just go home and get to writing while I’m in the mood,” Amy said, cringing when Alex’s face fell. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure, whatever,” Alex shrugged. The clerk began scanning their items, acting as if he wasn’t hearing the underlying argument. “But I might be doing something tomorrow. Don’t know. Never can tell what mood I’m in.”
Amy gritted her teeth, wanting to smack the acne-covered twerp of a clerk. “Well, I guess I could have some ice cream. If it’s to go. I’m sorry, Alex, but I think I’m getting over this block! It simply can’t wait!”
She held her breath waiting for the classic “Neither can I” line, but Alex only busied himself with writing out the check. Biting her lip, she started to big up the sacks. Alex was usually fairly easy-tempered about these things. Why should he get upset over ice-cream?
They walked quietly out to her gray Olds Calais and loaded the small car. The drive through the small city of Asbury, Kentucky, was only filled with the sounds of Third Eye Blind over the CD player. When she pulled into the parking lot of the campus, she turned off the car and sighed. “Alex, maybe we can do something tomorrow, or the next night.”
Alex shrugged. “What if I have things to do?”
“Dammit! What’s so important about today?” Amy demanded in irritation.
Alex simply raised his dark eyebrows. “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”
“Forgotten what?” Amy gulped, an unsteady feeling burning in the pit of her stomach. Oh, Sith, it wasn’t TODAY was it? They had been planning on celebrating their six-month anniversary. She had thought it completely ridiculous for couples to do such things, but their first meeting had been rather memorable, if only for the circumstances of their meeting.
But, it couldn’t be today! She was so sure of it . . .
Alex dug something up from his jeans pocket, tossed it in her lap, and slammed the car door behind him. Slowly, Amy picked up the tiny package. It was a tiny, black velvet jewelry box, and inside was a tiny locket on a thin gold chain. They weren’t suppose to do anything special, really, or get a nice gifts. It would jinx the relationship. The only reasons to even mark some ridiculous anniversary was to end their friends’ relentless proddings. She didn’t bother to open the locket and read the inscription.
Instead, she banged her head on the horn of the car repeatedly. “Stupid, stupid, stupid . . .”
@@@@@
The apartment was quiet, the only sounds of the stereo switching CD’s. Amy rubbed her eyes tiredly, shutting off the laptop. After her complete fumble, she hadn’t been able to write, and the usual fun on the JC board had been spoiled.
She hadn’t gotten anywhere on the book, either. This fact was even more depressing than the fact Alex hadn’t called to apologize or e-mail her. That sat in the back of her mind, hovering over her initial problem. She’d have time to fix things after her novel was written.
As she crawled into bed, she said a quick prayer. “Lord, please find some creative way to help me write my novel.”
Nidus Dwellan | Pencraft | Scribere | Sketchbook | Canvas | Muse | Owl Me