The next day, I wake up and have two extremely alarming thoughts. One being: I have red hair and second being: Can I see Evel again? The first alarmed me generally because I had that cretinous moment of waking, when you forget that you just had The Test, that you’re in your own house and that the Earth is in fact round.
The second highly alarmed me because, like forgetting the shape of the planet I live on, I had no clue who Evel was for three seconds. Then the memories of falling over, being tangled in a crazy mess of legs and arms, then discussing Head’s plan come flooding back in both a wanted and un-wanted wave. Evel had never told me what Head was planning! Does that mean I can see him today? Or would that be too eager?
Un-winding myself from the sleep-ridden ball I was positioned in, my usual yawns and stretches proceeded to take place, then I began to get ready.
I go to pull on my dull grey uniform, then stop myself. We’d had The Test! Teachers had always told us that there was no school afterwards, that we began life in the big wide world. As decided, respected adults. Getting a job isn’t easy, applying can be hard, and a lot of companies turn down red-heads.
Morning sun blares through the curtain in a sharp yellow rays. Maybe a walk will clear my head? Or even a casual sit on the porch? Watch the world un-fold into life, with the bare trickle of early workers? Sounds nice. Let’s do that.
My pyjamas seem to warm and comfortable to slip out of, so I throw on my red dressing gown dotted with white stars. My pink bunny slipper accompany the attire, completing the ‘I just woke up’ look. Brush my hair? It’ll only be a simple five minute sitting on the porch, not a parade down the street. My hair can wait.
Slowly, I plod downstairs, yawning again and spy the golden glow bursting from the glass slots of the door. Most of it is a sort of red, brown oak and the light seems so much calmer, almost gentler, than upstairs where it shoots through my curtains in thick lines. You can see the floating dust particles, circling around in the air.
My hand touches the door knob and I yank it open, letting the full burst of morning light hit me. The warmth spreads over me, sending tingles down my arms and legs. Now this is what I like. Comfy, casual sit in the rising sun, wondering about life. What more could I want to do with my morning?
Closing the door behind me, knowing the lock isn’t on, I take in the view. The desolate streets, with a few twirling litter packets, and rows of neat gardens in front of neat houses. Everything in order, like it should be. I take in the view, absorbing the calm and quietness.
“Hi,” says a voice and I jump. I swing my head to the left, no one there, and then to the right, someone there. Wait, someone was there! Who? They were sitting on their porch, taking in the view of empty streets and organised houses. A smile breaks out onto my face.