Page 39 of That Pucking New Girl

“Absolutely. I’ll see you when you’re up,” she says, leaving me to walk in to explore.

The curtains are already pulled shut, and I turn on a small light as I close the door. Pulling off my clothes, I drop them in the hamper and drag on a big t-shirt to sleep in.

I make sure to do my nightly routine just in case I pass out for longer than I intend to, and then I crawl into bed. My phone is already charging on the bedside table, making me smile. My backpack always seems to disappear the second I put it down.

There seems to be a message on it, and I pick up the phone curiously. I’m expecting it to be the family group chat, but it’s not.

Unknown

I bet you’re a screamer, Twinkles.

Me

Draven, I only scream during scary movies and terrible pick up lines.

Rolling my eyes, I block the number. If these guys can dig into my medical and government files, then I’m not even going to question how they got my phone number. However, I’ve been blocking people to protect my peace for a long fucking time.

They’re no different than anyone else.

Fuck them.

Putting my phone away, I wrap myself in my blankets like a burrito and go to sleep. May the obsession of muscle bound hockey players never find me. If I refuse to give into their shit, maybe they’ll move on.

A girl can hope, right?

CHAPTER

TEN

NOOR

Opening my eyes, I shudder as I’m met with pain. It feels as if the bed is vibrating and the room is spinning. Whimpering, I close my eyes again as I burrow deeper into my thick comforter. Sometimes, stress is a trigger for my migraines, and between my body kicking my ass and the drama at school, my middle name may as well begin with an ‘s’ and end with it too.

“This sucks,” I rasp. Tears slide down my cheeks as I tuck myself into the smallest possible fetal position.

Opening my eyes isn’t a possibility, which means I’m stuck. I know there’s emergency nasal spray for my migraines in the house, but getting to it isn’t possible. I could get out of bed and crawl, but then I risk scaring the kids.

They’ve already been scarred enough by my baggage.

The pain is constant, throbbing, and horrific. Still, I’m able to doze for a bit as the comfort of my blankets help lull me to sleep. It’s like a dark, silent cave.

I flinch as the door opens slightly.

“Noor? Are you okay?” Theo asks quietly. “If you’re going to sleep in, that’s fine, but it’s almost ten-thirty in the morning.”

I fell asleep and stayed that way last night, which I probably should have felt suspicious about. The move to Santa Barbara is a big change, I’ve had some hiccups, so of course life would decide to kick me in the teeth.

I can’t help the little wail of pain that comes out of my mouth, small and pathetic.

“Fuck, Noor?” Theo sounds almost panicked as he shoves open the door to pad over to me. “All I can see is a bundle of blankets. Please tell me you’re wearing clothes so I can see what’s wrong.”

This would be humorous if I wasn’t in so much pain.

“Head…hurts,” I sob, pushing down the blankets to slit my eyes open.

“Okay. I’ll get your medicine. The spray, right?” he asks.

I make a vague sound of agreement, and he takes off to get it. I don’t remember it being in the cabinet, but can’t remember why. Maybe because it’s not an everyday medication?