047 Enemy

047 !! ENEMY

The sound of frantic footsteps rouse her from her slumber, her eyelids fluttering against the glimmering sunlight washing the room in a bereft warmth.

The back of her tank top sticks to her skin as a sheen layer of sweat rolls down her neck, her harried blonde hair thrown carelessly over the armrest of the couch she reclines on.

The ceiling fan whirrs in a lazy pace, gentle cool air immediately pocketed by the intense shine slithering in from the uncurtained windows.

"Guys, come on!".

She grumbles pushing her face further into the couch pillow, shifting to throw one leg over the back of the sofa, a cold sweep instantly lathering the skin of her bare legs.

"We have a test today. Y'all need to get a head on if you want to shower", the voice bellows again in the same anxious tone.

She tosses an arm out in a waving off gesture, pressing the side of her thigh further into the headrest supporting her leg.

Her arm is about to plop down like the rest of her body when cold fingers enclose around her wrists tugging her forward.

She whines tightly shutting her eyes.

"Georgie, not you too. We have to go! See, JJ's up already!".

She shakes her head against the pillow refusing to leave the comfort of the Chateau's sofa.

"Step back, Pope".

"But—".

"Tch. Just do it, bro".

Sleep slowly consumes her, a faint dream already set on a reel for her entertainment with a quaint feeling of peace and comfort settling over her being.

She sighs contentedly, her exhale sounding muffled due to the pillow's presence as she allows herself to relax.

A happy, happy place somewhere among the pale clouds, a peachy glow of the setting sun . . . .

A sudden freezing cold sensation startles her out of her reverie, her cheek quickly becoming numb as her eyes shoot open and she bolts up rubbing the side of her face.

"JJ!".

Her brother stands grinning, a cold can of beer held in his hand whilst he stands there completely self-satisfied.

"Time for school, sis", he walks into the kitchen leaving her to sit there in shock.

Pope only lingers back with an apologetic look on his face.

Georgie huffs loudly, stomping up on her feet and walking into the bathroom with exaggerated thumping footsteps to emphasise her rage.

She slams the door shut, clicking the lock in place before leaning over the sink to scrutinise her appearance.

She looks . . . dreadful, to say the least.

Tired bags hang under her eyes, her mouth permanently twisted in scorn. Her white tank top itself is wrinkled and her jean shorts . . . well, they've definitely seen better days.

She rubs her eyes, stepping back to take herself in and what she sees makes her blink rapidly at the reflection as if that alone could change her.

Could make her better. Could grace her with perfection.

She looks thinner than usual, her hair a sad golden against her exhausted pale skin.

But it is her eyes that have her swallowing abruptly and clenching her fists by her side.

Her eyes look devoid of life. As if she is not a real human at all, a mere ghost looking back at herself with so much pain that it feels almost tragic to be gazing at someone so broken.

So drained.

She precipitously turns away from the mirror — the haunting image inside of her ghost self is enough to make her own body feel disquieting.

She'd rather stare directly at the sun than in the mirror now for the mirror is her enemy — it does nothing besides project the truth upon its viewer and yet . . . it is the perceived enemy of the absolute.

And that is really, enough to remind her of her patheticness today.

She makes sure to be quick in the shower, though she'd love to take a long cold shower on this humid morning, unfortunately learning awaits.

Throwing a gigantic towel around her body and carefully securing it around herself to the point where its hem falls down to her upper calves, she steps out of the bathroom shuffling into the kitchen to find a half asleep Kiara leaning against a ceramic mug full of black coffee.

"Coffee?", Pope offers upon spotting her.

She shakes her head quietly making her way to Kiara's side.

She nudges her friend with her elbow drawing tired warm brown eyes up to her alert cheshire ones.

"Do you have an extra shirt? I'm out of clean clothes and JJ refuses to drive me back to the shack".

The twins had more or less taken over the Routledge residence ever since their friend found solace in the deep ocean bed and they realised they could no longer bear any kind of emotional turmoil no matter how repetitive.

So, they'd packed their bags in the middle of the night failing to say goodbye to the man passed out on the couch and made their way to the Chateau.

Only thing is, they'd been in a hurry — shedding countless tears over your best friend's death can do that to you, I think — and they hadn't packed much.

Which is why, Georgie doesn't have enough clothes here and with her useless brother per usual forgetting to do laundry — the one task she decided to trust him with — she truly has no idea how she's expected to survive.

She could go up to the shack alone and get some clothes, sure but that is too big a risk to take on your own and she sure as hell isn't going into that house alone anymore.

Kiara hums gesturing towards one of the cabinets in the hallway.

"There's some spare there".

"Thanks", Georgie approaches the cabinet, pulling a t-shirt out and walking into the room she'd claimed as hers to get dressed.

Thirty minutes later and the remaining four of the 'Pogues For Life' gang hop out of Kiara's SUV, their narrowed gazes carefully scrutinising the curious glances of their fellow classmates which seem to follow them right to the entrance of the high school building.

There, supported by the brick wall, sits a 2019 yearbook picture of John Booker Routledge, a cluster of withered and fresh bouquets along with handwritten notes carved in peculiar messages such as 'We miss you!' grouped around the framed photograph — who the hell framed that? — that leans under the shade of the building.

"I can't do this today. I gotta get to class", Pope murmurs under his breath and goes to walk away when Kiara's fingers intertwine with his, freezing him midway.

The Maybank twins glance side-long at each other, their attention clearly snagged by their friends' new romance.

"We need to stick together", Kiara hushes gesturing for the brother-sister duo to follow her and Pope inside the hallway and right down to their history classroom.

The lingering students by the lockers don't even seem to disguise their surprise at catching the four most talked about, most interesting students of Kildare County High this past month.

Kiara and Pope seem to be lost in their own little world guiding the distraught siblings behind them while JJ throws a deathly glare at anyone who even dares to look his way.

Georgie, for her part, only grimaces at the newfound yet unnecessary attention.

It's easier when you're invisible — when people either don't seem to care about you or they truly do overlook your very presence in the room.

Secrets are spilled when you're deemed an unseen entity, lives are saved simultaneously because they couldn't care less about getting their hands dirty in your business.

But attention is sickening — poisonous even and Georgina Maybank loathes it with every bone in her body.

It's going to be such a long day.

And a long day it shall be, indeed.

***
hi baes happy friday <33


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