"Are we there yet?" Melanie whines from the backseat.
Cameron told me to sit up front that way he didn't end up killing his sister. I slept most of the two hours drive but Cameron and Mel have been bickering back and forth the entire time.
"Ugh, yes!" Cameron groans.
"Yay!" Mel shouts.
Cameron pulls into a motel parking lot and turns off the car. We all get our bags and walk up to the front desk. Cameron pays for a one night stay and is given a key to a room.
"I'm tired," Mel whines once we're in the room.
"Go to sleep. I can help you with that," Cameron glares.
She rolls her eyes and flops down on one of the beds, while Cameron does the opposite. I go into the bathroom and change into my pajamas and crawl into the bed with Melanie. In no time I'm fast asleep.
"No you can go!" I hear Mel shout.
I groan and open my eyes to see my best friend and her brother arguing. I roll over and look at my phone's time. Seven fifty in the fucking morning.
I roll out of bed, grab my bag, and walk past the bickering brother and sister. I go into the bathroom and sort through my clothes. I decide on a pair of black skinny jeans, a loose grey All Time Low tank top, and my grey converse boots. I put on a couple of wristbands and straighten my hair to perfection. I apply some thick black eyeliner, some silver eyeshadow, and a ton of foundation.
When I walk back out of the bathroom I see the two teenagers still arguing. I check the time again. Eight o'clock.
"What in the hell are you two arguing about?!" I yell, after I've finally had enough.
"Cameron won't go get us breakfast," Mel complains.
"There's a Starbucks right next to this motel, can't you do it?" Cameron objects.
"Shut up! Both of you! Cameron give me some fucking money and I'll do it!" I shout.
Cameron sighs and reaches into his front pocket. He tosses me his wallet and I storm out of the room without another word. The early morning air is a bit chilly, but overall bearable.
I shuffle across the street to the small Starbucks coffee shop on the other side. I enter the shop and a bell goes off a couple times when I slam the door back.
I walk up to the counter and when the man asks me what I want to order, I suddenly realize that Cam and Mel never told me what they wanted. You know what? I don't care, they'll get whatever I order them.
"Um...three small normal lattes, and six glazed donuts," I order.
"The lattes will be done shortly, but here's your donuts," the man says while putting some of them into a bag and thrusting it out to me.
I take the bag and thank him. I walk over to one of the booths and slide into the seat, while dropping the bag carelessly on the table.
I text a few of my friends for the next couple minutes and then once I hear the man call out my order, I raise up and walk up to the counter. He hands me the drinks and I take them.
When I turn around I suddenly knock into a force and before I know what's happening, the drinks are no longer in my hands and I'm on the tile floor.
When I open my eyes I see a boy, maybe in his mid or late twenties, extending his hand towards me. I take it and he pulls me to my feet, and I suddenly feel bad when I see his brown stained clothes.
"You look kinda like me," the tall, emo boy standing in front of me smiles.
It was true. We both had the same pair of pretty blue eyes, the same ears, and a few other things were similar. If only we didn't have to be introduced by me spilling Starbucks lattes on him clumsily.
"Yeah, and I'm really sorry," I mumble, gesturing to his coffee covered clothes.
"Don't worry about it," he replies.
He stares at me for a long moment, as if he's deep in thought. I start to gather up the spilled coffee cups and napkins to throw away and reorder.
"So who's your parents?" He asks.
"My dad's name is Richard Abrams, and my moms name is Shannon Dontell," I answer.
I look up when I suddenly feel the silence bearing down. The guys' blue eyes lost a couple shades of it's beautiful color, his skin became paler, and his breathing started to pick up speed.
"Did you say Shannon Dontell?" he whispers.
Slightly confused, I nod my head in answer. He looks me up and down with a thoughtful look, while popping his knuckles nervously.
"How old are you?" He murmurs.
"Thirteen," I answer.
This only makes him look even more sick, he's so pale and his eyes are losing their magnificent color. He quickly picks up his now cracked phone that fell out of his hands.
He shoves the phone in his back pocket carelessly, mumbles a frightened goodbye, and shuffles out of the small coffee shop without another word. Hm, weird.