2. School Day
I unfurl from my small ball that I huddled myself into last night. Sarah was very restless; I got shaken around non-stop from her turns and her constant murmurs didn't help either. It takes me a couple of minutes to recognise my surroundings and adjust my eyes to the glowing light. Today it isn't that bright, but it isn't exactly dark either. This is what's weird about living in some one's mind. You can see what they're thinking. There are loads of ways to see. For instance, it's always lighter when Sarah is happy or thinking good thoughts. If the girls at school scare her or tease her, it goes nearly pitch black, as though someone has grabbed a charcoal pencil and slowly filled in the entire space with pure blackness. The most obvious sign is the constant appearance of multiple speech bubbles. They pop randomly up out of nowhere. On days where it is pitch-black they appear and illuminate the room with their soft multi-coloured glow. Barry, the electric blue one used when she is slightly scared has developed a sort of frenemie relationship with me. Tulisa, the brilliant yellow one is good friends with me, although I see her mostly Tuesdays. That's when Sarah does Art and she is very happy then. Robert the murky brown one hates me and I hate him back. Unfortunately when Sarah hates something he pops up and that is very often. His light is awful, it sets a very dark brown setting and frankly gives no light at all. Walking over to Sarah's left eye, I survey her surroundings. She's getting dressed, hurriedly yanking on her itchy grey jumper and struggling into her itchy grey trousers. I tumble around roughly, hitting the floor hard, rolling around as she jumps and runs around. Clawing my way along the ground, I reach the diminutive door and grabbing the shining handle, fling it open, tumbling through. Phew. I pick myself shakily up off the floor and try to make out dark shapes. Whenever Sarah is stressed then her mind goes a sort of disgusting, murky green like the slimy sludge deep at the bottom of a stinky swamp.
A brilliant orange light bursts into the dim room, casting a soft and comforting glow.
"Hey Danny, what's going on?" I smile and he smiles back, his stunning white teeth standing out immensely.
"Not much but what's going on with Sarah? It's not even near exam time." I shrug although I do know why. What is the point in wasting my breath? Danny is nice and all but I need to save my voice for Sarah. Today is Monday, one of the worst days to my Sarah.
The shining orange light that softly illuminated the dark room is now gone. So is Danny, but all of a sudden the glaring cerise alarms start to flash and a horrible voice fills the room, screeching:
"Get ready to be transported. In three, two, one..."