I stretch my arms towards the ceiling but refuse to open my eyes to the searing light streaming through my bedroom window.

Something woke me up.

I know it did.

Starting my morning without my consent makes me cranky.

And you don't want to see me cranky.

Ｃｒａｎｋｙ

𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬; 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝

Ｃｒａｎｋｙ

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 (𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

A loud ding sounds from my bedside and my head jerks to it. My eyes immediately notice the line of notifications lining my iPhone screen. I groan and fall back onto my pillow.

Today is the day.

Today is Lucas' big concert.

It almost feels like half the city will be there—luckily that isn't the case.

I hope.

I'm nervous and I'm not even the one going on stage.

I blindly reach over to grab my phone but end up pushing it over the side of the nightstand.

What a great way to start this fantastically long and glorious day.

Sarcastic replies to whoever is texting me this early in the morning are forming rapidly in my mind as I roll over and reach my hand towards the floor. My fingernails just barely graze the case so I reach a bit farther and just grasp the corners. I'm about to turn it over when I suddenly slip from my sheets and tumble to the hard floor with a thump.

"Thanks for fully waking me up gravity," I say as I rub my sore back. I remember my phone and reach underneath me to fish it out, but it's not under my back. My eyes catch a small glimmer from beneath my bed, and I turn my head in its direction.

There is my phone. It's resting in the middle of the space underneath my bed without a care in the world. "So do you think this is a joke?" I ask my phone. "Well, it's not funny."

I scoot over until I'm half under the bed and reach my fingers forward, but they come just short. "Please tell me I'm just dreaming," I mumble as I inch further under the bed. I'm too focused on my fingers growing closer to my phone that I don't notice where my forehead is going. Suddenly it bumps against the side of my bed, and I cry out in pain. My legs automatically fly into a fetal position so I can cradle my injured head. On the way, my legs hit my phone and it skitters even further away. Since my bed is up against the wall, I can't retrieve it from the other side.

"Glorious shish kebabs," I swear underneath my breath.

———————

"Morning," I mumble as I walk down the stairs in my pajamas, sniffing the smell of pancakes and following them to the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Lucas." I give a big yawn. "You won't believe the morning I've had."

"'Morning, Paris," Lucas replies with a grin. "How are you this fine morning?"

Apparently, my fall didn't wake me up quite enough, because I'm still too tired to fully register Lucas' presence. "Well, terrible," I admit. "After chasing my phone for like thirty minutes, I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth with soap instead of toothpaste, found an unflushed toilet that had been used by someone who needs serious help, got only cold water in my shower, completely forgot my towel, stepped on random legos that appeared out of nowhere since I know none of us play with them—"

"Okay, boo-hoo you," Emilie snaps. "So you had a terrible morning or whatever. Lucas, don't you want to hear about my morning?" She jumps in front of Lucas with her hands clasped, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

"Bet you're gonna tell him despite his answer," I mutter before going to the stove, plucking off the most cooked-looking pancake on the pan—despite how burning hot it is—and shoving it into my mouth.

"What happened to you this morning?" Lucas questions Emilie politely.

"I woke up, jumped out of bed, danced for half an hour, then made a list of a thousand reasons why I love you!" she replies cheerily. "Isn't that a thousand times better than Paris' morning?"

"Honestly, Paris' was more relatable," Lucas answers quietly.

Emilie doesn't seem to hear his comment as she continues, "Do you want to hear the list I made?" She whips out a thick stack of folded paper from her pocket, not even awaiting his answer. "Lucas is awesome. He is amazing. He is agreeable..."

I sit on a high seat next to Lucas and rest my head in my arms. "Are the bags under my eyes relatable too?" I murmur.

"Most definitely," he returns, lying his head on his arms to face me. "I barely caught a wink of sleep last night."

"He is artful and astute..." Emilie continues. "Athletic and agile..."

"You're nervous?" I ask Lucas.

"How could I not be?" he questions back.

"I just figured it got easier the more times you did it," I say. I slowly lift my head and blink quickly, trying to remove the heavy sleepiness from my eyes.

"It's definitely easier than the first time I went on stage, but I still get crazy nervous."

"He is all the awesome adjectives..."

"It's hard to believe," I admit. "With all that calm vibe you're giving off. You're pretty good at hiding it."

"Am I?"

I nod tiredly.

"We should get going," Lucas says. He rises from his chair. "Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Andrist. It was delicious."

"My pleasure, Lucas," she replies. "Anytime."

"Lucas is altruistic."

I look at my sister and ask, "Are they all 'a' words?"

"Nope!" she replies. "I made the list in alphabetical order. I have an average of five words per letter but most of them have a whole lot more."

"What does altruistic mean?" Lucas asks.

"I have no idea!" Emilie replies with the biggest smile I've ever seen. "I know you have to go, so I'll just have to finish reading this to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Lucas replies awkwardly before turning and leaving the kitchen.

I start to follow him to the door when he turns around and looks at me. "Aren't you going to change first?" he asks.

"Change?" I look down at my fluffy duck pajamas and turn red in embarrassment. I do my best to cover as much of the outfit as I can and rush up the stairs faster than you could say, 'Got any grapes?'.

———————

Lucas and I arrive a few minutes after everyone. There are a few empty donut boxes lying about from the earlier workers who had started this morning and fast-food bags from the night owls who had stayed late last night. I check my phone. It's eleven.

We have six hours to make sure everything is set up and ready to go. They would probably do a few run-throughs too before the big show.

"I'm going to go practice operating the light system," I tell Lucas.

He nods, and I jog away.

I find the panel system in the back of the auditorium, elevated higher than everything else so I can see the entire stage and audience. I press a few buttons on the lighting console and begin adjusting the platinum beams and fennel spotlights lining the stage.

Luckily, Justin got set to one of the cameras closer to the stage, so I won't have to deal with him distracting me. Instead, a guy named Mike settles into the seat a few feet away from me and begins adjusting the large camera standing in front of him.

I resist the urge to scream something random into the small microphone protruding from the top of the console. Instead, I tap it gingerly and say, "Testing."

I see a small thumbs-up appear from the stage. I give a thumbs-up back and then realize the person on the stage wouldn't be able to see me with all the lights raining down on them.

I'm quite happy with where I am. I have a perfect view of the stage (although it's too far to see much of anything, so...not so perfect, but Lucas said he always has an extra private concert for just the workers. Of course, many elements would be missing, but it was still something to look forward to) and my chair is surprisingly comfortable. Much more comfortable than those stiff auditorium ones.

For once in my life, I'm proud of myself. Standing up here with all those ant-looking people below me makes me feel wise and important, almost like I've been doing this my entire life.

It's a feeling that I know isn't realistic, but I allow myself to feel it anyways.

It doesn't hurt to feel good about yourself sometimes, does it? Even if it's unjustified.

Lucas must have given me this job for this reason. He definitely could have found a last minute lighting-man, cameraman, and backstage lady to do the jobs, but he chose to include his friends instead.

It'll be thrilling to be a part of something that brings smiles to so many people's faces. I might not be the best at the job that is supposed to be another's (someone who has been doing this for years and not less than a day), but it still makes me happy that Lucas has given me this opportunity.

Having a purpose gives a sense of duty and importance. It's something that every person should feel.