Page 36 of Something Rad
“Right now, Robert.”
My nails bite into my palms as I squeeze my hands into fists.
I walk slowly over to the table, not looking at anyone as I pull a chair out, not attempting at all to stop its wooden legs from scraping against the floor. I plop down as a plate appears in front of me at my mother’s hands. No one says anything for a few minutes, just the sounds of utensils clanking against plates filling the air.
Finally, my dad breaks the silence.
“Steven, tell me about the laser peripheral iridotomy you performed today.”
And so it continues.
nine
SARA
“I don’t want to go.”
Unfortunately the reflection of me in my vanity mirror doesn’t respond to me.
Ugh, what a bitch.
I take a sip of the Jolt Cola I smuggled into the house last night after work. If my mother saw me drinking it before 8 a.m. like I currently am, she’d probably blow a gasket. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
I don’t know why, but dragging myself to school today feels like climbing a mountain. I have a quiz this morning in physics, an essay due tomorrow in English that I need to get feedback on today, and pictures of the debate team I’m scheduled to take this afternoon. The morning of a day like this would typically have me jazzed and ready to rock, but all I want to do right now is crawl back under my covers and stare blankly at my ceiling until the sun goes down.
I reach for my Jolt again, hoping it’ll be the magic elixir to turn my morning around. I’m pretty sure it’s the opposite, however, because when I go to drink from it this time, I somehow manage to completely miss my mouth and spill it straight down the front of my white button-up shirt.
I let my eye contact shift between the reflection of the stain and my own eyes several times in the mirror before I find it in me to stand up and walk to my closet. By the time I get there though, I don’t even have enough energy to fully change out of my stained shirt, instead just throwing a blue sweater over top of it and pulling my luckily unstained white collar through the top.
I make it back over to the vanity and plop down in the same spot.
Hey, look at that.
I still don’t want to go.
I spy a scrunchie sitting on the table before me and raise a brow, reaching for it. I start to gather up my hair in the mirror, but never end up fastening it, letting out a sigh as I let it fall back down around my face.
“I don’t want to go,” I say out loud to myself again.
I turn my head to look at the clock on my nightstand. I still have ten minutes before I have to be outside to catch the bus.Good.I think I’m going to need every one of those ten minutes to convince myself to make it out there.
I let my gaze shift to the side of the clock, looking at theTop Gunmovie poster on the back of my door. My eyes linger on it for a few seconds before I push out of my seat and walk over to stand in front of it.
“Do I have to go?” I ask Tom Cruise.
I take the furrow of his brow and hard set of his jaw as ano.
Of course. I should have known. Maverick always takes rules and orders as suggestions. I nod reassuringly to myself. Maverick wouldnotgo to school today.
“Great, glad we got that settled.”
I kick off my Keds and jump back into my bed. I just get the covers up and over my face when I hear the door to my room open.
“Hey, Sara, remember, I’m working a double tonight. There’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge for dinner–Sara?”
“Hi,” I grumble in response to my mom, not removing the covers from my face.
“Um, are you not planning on going to school today?” she asks.
