Page 38 of Never Ever Getting Back Together

And Olivia:I made a friend and you wkulf love her we are all fgoing to meet up one day and you will love her soooooooooioioik,much

I’m just stashing my iPad back in my jeans when the door creaks open, and I slam the drawer shut and whirl around.

Skye, who’s changed into a baggy old T-shirt and shorts, stares at me. “What?”

“What?” I ask. “Stoplookingat me. Why are you alwayslookingat me?”

“Because you’re alwaysthere,” she snaps, climbing the bunk bed. “To my unending disappointment.”

“Yeah, well, it’smy…unending disappointment… to be stuck with you, too,” I shoot back.

Nailed it. Devastating blow. She’ll regret verbally sparring withmetomorrow.

I turn off the light and climb into bed. For good measure, I add, “You should just be quiet, and stay out of my way.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

“I’mtrying,but you keep talking to me.”

Damn it, she’s good.

“Whatever,” I say. “Good night.” Shit, that was automatic. “Not. Not good night. I hope your night sucks.”

“I hope your night’s great, because it’ll be your last one here. Everyone knows you’re going home tomorrow. Jordy basically admitted it.”

I blink through the darkness and suck on my lips. “Good,” I mutter. “I don’t wanna spend a minute around all of you, anyway.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

I don’t want her to have the last word, but I don’t have the energy to keep this going. As quietly as I can, I whisper “good,” and she doesn’t reply, so, technically, I win.

With that out of the way, I’m finally able to fall asleep.

TENMaya

I’m wrenched from unconsciousness into the land of the living by “Get Ready” blasting at around one billion decibels.

Gasping, I shoot up and look around for the source, only to regret it as bowling balls roll from one end of my skull to the other, slamming against the sides. I clutch at my head to hold it steady and yelp in pain.

“Oh, you’re up,” Skye yells over the music. “Good.”

Then, through the haze of agony, I piece together what’s happening. Skye’s perched on her bunk playing music through a portable speaker. Sunlight is forcing its way around the cracks between the curtains and the wall, and something about the intensity of it, and the heat of the room, tells me this isn’t crack-of-dawn sunlight. What we’re dealing with is closer to lunchtime sunlight. Which means I’m running justsofreaking behind schedule, considering filming starts, oh,immediately after lunch.

This is fine, great, fine. Great.

Then, the events of last night hit me. Gelatin. So much gelatin. Lime, raspberry, blueberry… arguing with the girls, snapping at Jordy, and I’m pretty sure at one point I did an interview about Skye being a wild animal?

Shiiiiit.

I go to reach for my phone before remembering I don’t have it. Seriously, how did people survive the nineties? “What’s the time?” I mumble through the cloud of pain.

“Oh, you want to know thetime?” Skye asks, bouncing on the top bunk so the whole bed rocks violently back and forth. She is one thousand fucking percent doing that on purpose.

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