0 – Song of the Century

Christian abruptly awoke, with a few more issues than being tangled in his sheets and having woken up at 3 AM. One of the issues was that he desperately needed another fix. The other was, well… he needed to stop having dreams about her

She was his classmate, and she was fairly hot, and that was all that Christian really knew about her. She sat two seats behind him in second hour Calculus, and across from him in fifth hour History. He really liked that look she got when Ms. Daly talked about fierce battles and revolutions… he wished that she would look at him like that…

His issues then came to the forefront of his mind, dragging him back to reality. Christian sighed and sat up, running his cold fingers through his greasy hair as he thought of what to do. If he dosed right then, he’d never get back to sleep and he’d be royally screwed at school the next day. On the other hand, the next day of school was the last day of school…

And thus, his last chance to talk to her.

Christian was torn.

Then again, the stuff gave him more confidence. He always seemed cooler if he was totally dosed. With a grin, but also a half-hearted sigh, Christian sluggishly walked to his desk and pulled out the vile black bottle. He shook it… not much left. With good intentions and sticky-noting himself to see Woon later, he opened the vial.

He carefully tapped two of the chunky, greenish salts onto his palm. Grinning, Christian poured them into his mouth and let them dissolve on his tongue. The bitter taste was barely noticable, Christian having been an experienced user. He wasn’t addicted, just in it for the fun.

At last, the crystals were nothing more than liquids that had trailed down his esophagus, and Christian was on the upswing of the high. His grin spread, and he stood up, stretching. Who needed coffee when you had such a wake-up as Opal?

The world began to bend in front of his eyes as the effects of the drug took hold of his system. Faux-endorphins flooded his body and Christian felt just about ready to take on the entire world, and just talking to a girl would be a piece of cake. Vanilla cake, with delicious chocolate frosting and green for all the middle things of frosting. Goddamn was the girl beautiful!

Christian would sweep her off her feet, this vigilante rebel-type girl with the eccentric fashion, the girl who wore old, beat up Chucks for the hell of it, the apple of his eye. He would woo her by singing to her about the century, how much it sucked — all except for her! He would write a punk love ballad that would rival even the immortal Ramones in its sheer legendariness!

The day promised to be gorgeous.

***

Gloria was still awake at 3 AM, being a part-time insomniac and all. She sighed and spun her chair away from the enrapturing glow of the computer screen and all the sinful pages within. Scowling, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. A draft blew through her broken window, making her shiver — she only slept in a sports bra and yoga pants, it was kind of expected.

She tapped her fingers on her knees, wondering when the goddamned melatonin would kick in and allow her to finally sleep, to find some goddamned peace for once. Gloria mentally kicked herself for thinking so repetitively. She got like that when she had a bout of sleeplessness.

It wasn’t even creative sleeplessness, which was really why she was so resentful about it. It was the same-old, same-old ‘can’t sleep, too bored/excited/nervous.’ Except she was simultaneously bored, excited, and nervous. That’s what she hated about the last day of school. At least it was a half day.

Gloria was, overall, content with her highschool career. She managed to pull her grades up to mostly B’s and A’s from the disastrous D’s and F’s of her freshman year. That was probably her worst year overall…

She disregarded that fact (and, related, her disastrous lovelife since) to think about books she could re-read to induce sleep.

Twilight was firmly out of the question. Mostly because she hated it so much that the damned book was covered in messy, angry scrawls that pointed out general plot issues, bad dialogue, worse description, and basically, awful everything. She hated that book, and although most people would recommend it to ‘put you to sleep’, it would keep her up for the next week with rage.

Gloria decided not to read a book. Besides, she mused, what’s the point of a bookshelf full of book you’ve already read? She looked up, glancing at her disheveled bookshelf — if it could even be called that at this point.

She sighed and shut down her trusty dusty old computer, laid down on her old bed and closed her eyes, hoping for some sleep.

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