I look at the time and see that it’s 2.30 in the morning. How’d it get to 2.30? I’ve been talking to Asha all night and now it’s going to be a rush to go to sleep before the witching hour. I don’t really want to stop talking to her, but I also don’t want to be awake then. I know that it’s just a superstition, but it’s something I’ve spent my whole life hearing, and it would be hard to try and undo that now. I message her and say that I have to go, and we quickly work out details for tomorrow. Well, later.
Goodnight! See you later! I say.
I turn off my phone and roll over. I close my eyes and try to think of relaxing thoughts and going to sleep, but all I can think about is Asha. Which doesn’t help my going-to-sleep plan. I’m so excited! I’m just thinking about tomorrow when a thought pops into my head. Something that is usually quite trivial to me usually, but for some reason I am worried about it. What am I going to wear? To meet Owen I usually just wear leggings and a baggy hoodie, but for some reason I feel like I want to wear something a bit nicer. Casual, but nicer than that. Suddenly I am restless, and trying to resist the urge to get up and start rifling through my wardrobe to try and find something. Any tiredness I had building, and any chance I had of going to sleep seems to slip further and further away with every second I stay there. Fuck it. I think and start to get up. I close my door and turn on my fairy lights. I can’t work in the dark but my main light will be way too bright. A warm glow shines from the outline of my ceiling, lighting almost everything up. It gives me peace of mind, considering the early hour. I put a pillow over my clock in the hope that if I don’t see the time, nothing will happen. Then I start. I have a pair of jeans that I could pair with something, but I don’t know what. I look through my t-shirts, but I can’t find anything. I pair each t-shirt with the jeans but they all seem to look rubbish. Then my eye catches my sports clothes. All of my leggings and tops. There’s a black cropped top with lines of purple across it to make it look like its breaking through the cracks. I put everything on to see if it actually looks OK on me rather than just laid out on my bed. It looks good, if I can say that. The only thing is, my face looks.... empty. Plain. I think about my very small makeup collection in my draw that I hardly have a need to touch as I have football practise after school everyday and never have a good excuse to wear it on the weekends. Unopened mascara, natural shades of eyeshadow, a pink lipstick and a concealer that is slightly too dark for my skin. This is all I have to work with. I also have some makeup wipes, so I start to put the makeup on, trialling different ideas. I find an old eyeliner I forgot I had too, so I experiment with different ways of applying it. Finally, I am happy with how it looks. I have concealer under my eyes, eyeliner running all the way along and a little off the eyelid, a little pink lipstick on my cheeks to act as blush, and a couple of layers on my lips. Nothing too big and flamboyant. I am generally happy with it. A sense of relief comes over me, and I suddenly felt exhausted. I flop down on my bed again, move my pillow back from in front of my clock and watch as the time changes from 3.59 to 4.00. Wow. I did it. This is the first time I’ve ever stayed awake through the witching hour. Nothing happened. Huh I think as I drift off. Maybe the story isn’t all true.
Two hours later, I wake up, feeling jumpy and really excited. I’m kind of annoyed that I woke up so early, since we aren’t meeting until 11, but after a couple of minutes trying, it’s clear I’m not getting back to sleep. I feel restless, like I want to get ready, but its definitely too early. I decide to go for a ride on my bike. I pull on my favourite leggings and a hoodie, and try to walk normally down the stairs. I scribble out a note to my family, saying I’ve just gone out on my bike. Although usually when I’m not in the house, they know that I’m out with my bike. It gives me something else to do, though. I leave that on the table then head out. I quickly open the shed door and grab m bike and helmet. I know it looks weird, but I start to kick my helmet around. It’s to make sure that there are no spiders in it, but when I tell people that, they say to just use a leaf to scoop them out. I hate spiders though, so I argue that it’s a good excuse to practise football. 1...2...3...4.........10. I give up after that because I just want to go. I put my helmet on, being careful not to clip my chin again, and then pick my bike up and start to pedal. Cycling can feel so cathartic sometimes, and now is one of those times. I know it sounds cliché and very cheesy, but with every push I feel like my anxiety fades away. By the time I reach the high street, I almost feel relaxed. Even though its quiet, I get off my bike and start to push it along the street.
“Jenna! Jenna!” a voice startles me. I look up to see Emma, who owns the small café next to the park, running to catch up with me.
“Hi!” She says l, breathing heavily. She’s wearing a green dress with yellow flowers and brown sandals, probably from Primark. Looks nice, but not practical for running in.
“Why are you up so early?” She asks. It’s meant to be a simple, friendly question, but a small bit of panic stirs inside me. Because the answer is: I don’t know. I don’t know why the idea of today excites me so much. I don’t know why I couldn’t sleep until four am. I don’t know what caused me to wake up at six. I don’t know.
“I couldn’t sleep.” It’s not a lie. Just not the whole story. We start walking again, and we start to have an easy conversation; how we are, how school has been, if the café is getting many customers. I leave her at the door of the café and then start to walk around the fountain in the middle to head back down the high street. Once I get to the end, I jump back on my bike and take the long way back home through the fields. I put my headphones in and start to play my playlist. After a couple of tracks, mine and Owen’s song comes on. I smile and keep cycling, reminded of all the happy moments through our relationship, until what he said to me last spoils my happy mood. ‘You ran off earlier. You didn’t say goodbye.’ He had said. ‘We’ll talk later.’ He glared at me, scared me slightly, even. Not that I’d admit that to anyone. He does that sometimes. Whether it’s what he says or how he says it, it can leave me a bit shaken. Especially when he grabs me and stops me from stepping back and away. When ever I do something “wrong” according to him, I usually come away from that conversation with marks on my wrists from when I’ve tried to argue back; he tightens his grip when I try to speak or move. He hasn’t confronted me about that yesterday yet. That’s something else to make my Monday worse. My heartbeat quickens at that thought, and I almost feel panicky. I brush the feeling away, change the song and start to pedal again. Why am I feeling this way about my boyfriend, for goodness sake? He’s my boyfriend! As I start to cycle, I feel better, and by the time I get back, I’ve completely forgotten about him. Asha and I are meeting at 11 o’clock this morning, and it’s now 8.06, so I like its more acceptable to start getting ready. I try to slow down as I approach my house, and I’m hoping the rest of my family are still asleep. I’m not ready for their questions yet: ‘Ooh where are you going dressed up like that?’ and ‘Are you and Owen still together? Are you cheating? Have you broken up?’ As if I would ever cheat on my boyfriend! My boyfriend. I feel a sense of guilt run through me before I shove Owen and all the bad feelings into a box and shove into the furthest corner in my mind. That box will not be opened any more today, and hopefully for the rest of the weekend before I finally see him again on Monday. I shudder at the thought of Monday and open the shed to put my bike and helmet away. Then I take a deep breath, unlock the door, and to my deep surprise and relief, I am met by silence. I take advantage of the silence and run into the kitchen to grab a breakfast bar before heading upstairs. I quickly get changed, which is easy thanks to my 3am fashion show, but then there’s the makeup. I can remember how it looked last night and what I need to do, but my hand is shaking so much from excitement that I have to restart a couple of times. Once I’m finally ready, it’s just about to turn 9 o’clock. I have two hours to kill. I look around my fairly tidy room, and my eyes fall on my list of random things I want to buy. If I push myself, I wonder how much I could buy before I need to meet Asha. I love a challenge. I grab the list and some money I have saved up and fly down the stairs again. I’m still in my clothes for meeting Asha, so if I run over on my time, I can just meet her with my shopping. I throw the door open but make sure it doesn’t slam shut. I jog back over to the shed, jump on my bike, and chuck my helmet on as I don’t need to check for spiders again. I fly down the road towards the town centre, aware that I am racing against the clock. I smile because I love spontaneous trips out when you probably don’t have time for them. It makes it more exciting! I reach the hut of bike racks outside the shopping centre, lock my bike up and then run through it, stopping at different places along the way. Half an hour later, I need to start heading back, but I am loaded with shopping bags, which I can’t really take on my bike. I haven’t really thought this through. I see a sporting goods shop that most probably sells rucksacks. I don’t really want to buy a new bag, but I can see no other way to get all these back home. I could do with a new school bag, I guess. I pick a dark blue with gold detailing one and head over to the tills. Then I head to my bike, throw all my other shopping into the bag and race home. I throw the kickstand down, run upstairs and fling the bag on my bed. I manged to get halfway through my list. A very successful shopping trip. I run back down the stairs, almost missing the last step, and falling on my face. I jump back on my bike and head towards the park. I have to stick to the roads, which has its benefits. It also has its drawbacks. I’m caught at the first set of traffic lights and have to wait for a few seconds before they turn amber and green, which isn’t too bad. The others are though. At the second, I have to wait for two minutes. At the third I wait for five. The fourth is a two-minute wait, and the last one is five. I bounce nervously on my bike waiting for it to turn. ‘I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for this.’ I chant in my head. I also keep checking my watch, which probably isn’t helping. The person in the car next to me is catcalling me and trying to talk to me. I edge slightly further towards the edge of the lane, uncomfortable. The light finally turns amber, I get ready to go. As soon as it turns green, I push off, giving the man the middle finger as I pull away. I cycle as fast as I can, hoping I won’t be too late. I finally get there, and somehow, I have two minutes to spare. I look around trying to spot her. A movement from underneath a tree catches my eye. It’s Asha, waving at me from under the big oak tree. I push my bike towards her, and she jogs towards me. We meet halfway.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
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