Be My Bad Boy

You know when you wake up feeling like a prize-fighter has used your body as a punching bag for a workout session during the night? Yeah, that.
I couldn’t move. I seriously could not move. I tried to lift my head off the pillow but I didn’t have the strength. I didn’t have the motivation either because it was as cold as an iceberg out there. I wouldn't have been surprised to see a penguin waddling through the room.
My legs, my back, my arms. My throat. Had I been swallowing razor blades? I couldn’t remember doing that, yet that’s what my throat felt like. I pulled the blankets up; I’d just stay there and die or at least try to get my strength back. Bed wasn’t warm but it was warmer than it was out there.
Then I remembered, I had to get up and do stuff. I’d promised Angie I’d meet her at the station. I had no time for lollygagging around in bed.

But, that cold, draughty train station concourse and standing there for two hours. And now we weren’t even snuggled up in nice, warm tree frog costumes but cutesy ‘60s style air hostess uniforms. The wind would whip around my legs until I shivered myself to death.
I tried to stand up and move to the bathroom but, as soon as my feet hit the floor, I felt dizzy. And the draught came through the floorboards wrapping my feet in chilling fingers like a monster trying to drag me to its subarctic hell.

I scrambled for the socks I’d kicked off in my sleep. My pink and white bed socks I’d gotten for only $2. I put them on. But the tiles in the bathroom would be even colder than the floor in my room. I didn’t have the mental strength to deal with that cold. The pressure building up in my face made it hard for me to think. My temples throbbed and everything looked blurry.
Surely they didn’t want a bleary eyed, hollow shell of a promo girl handing out their stuff? If I looked half as bad as I felt, people would flee from me in terror.
I put my feet back under the covers and tried to find the warm spot in the bed then lunged out for my bag, using a magazine to knock it closer so I didn’t have to get out from the bed. I hooked the magazine around the strap and lifted it to me. Hannah ingenuity.

My phone wasn’t in my bag though. I’d sat it somewhere after I’d called Frank the night before.
I’d gotten home in a decent mood, despite Ashley being a pissy little bitch at the rehearsal. My anger with Dad had gone and I’d thought out a plan on the way home. We could work out how much money he needed and I’d scrape up as much as I could. I had my share of the band money and the leftover from selling my clothes. I’d offer that to him. After all, he was family and I had to help out.
When I opened the door though, I couldn’t see any sign of Dad.

"Dad?" I called out, even though it was hardly like he’d be hiding under the bed or in the dresser. "Dad?"
He might have gone out for the day but I looked for his bag and couldn’t find it.
He’d gone to Frank’s. That had to be it. He’d figured he’d stay there until I cooled off.
I rang Frank.
"Is Dad there?"
"I haven’t heard from him since last night. Why?"
"He’s not here. We had a disagreement this morning." That was an understatement but I didn’t want to spill it all out to Frank. "I’ve been out all day and now he’s not here and his bag is gone too."
There was a long silence then Frank spoke.
"Shit, Hannah. That’s not good. That’s not good at all. That’s really messed things up… no, no, it’s not your fault… it’s just, we could’ve worked something out."
Stupid Frank, being all cryptic again. Now I had no Dad again, just a horrible tight feeling in my chest, making me think I’d been a real bitch to him.
The whole Dad issue could go on the back burner until I had the brain capacity to deal. I had no idea if he was even still around or if he'd run back to where he'd been hiding. I hadn't asked him about that. I hadn't really talked to him much about his life because I'd been so angry. Now, the thought of it all made my head more blurry.
Phone, phone, where are you, phone?
There was so much junk beside my bed though – coffee cups and magazines and a book Angie had loaned me and three things of eye shadow including purple and I never even knew I owned a purple eye shadow.
I needed to clean up this pigsty but I lacked the strength. I wanted to go back to sleep but I couldn’t until I’d called Angie.
I lifted the magazine. Yay! Phone.
I rang Angie and told her I couldn’t make it.
"I’m sorry, you’ll just have to promo without me. The show must go on and all that…" Then I started coughing like an old man.
"Just get well. I’ll be stuck in the edit suite at school for hours after that but I’ll pop around when I've finished to check on you. Do you need anything? Juice? Soup? Trashy magazines?"
"Yes. All of the above. And coffee. I don’t even think I can make it to the coffee shop."
Angie laughed and hung up while I collapsed back into bed. She was the best. I could not even conceive of trying to get out of bed to go to the shops.
I needed to get up and turn the heater on and maybe get some more blankets. I needed another pair of socks on my feet and some gloves. But the socks were so far away. I’d nap first to gather my strength.
I must have napped all day because I woke up to the phone ringing and the deep shadows of late afternoon in my room. I’d only woken up to cough and hack and feel miserable before falling back to sleep again.
Where'd I put that phone after I'd used it? I could hear the muffled ring. It wasn't on the floor. It kept ringing and finally I found it, under the blankets.
Angie?
But it was Andy. He talked some stuff but I couldn’t really follow him. He talked something… something… record company guy… something. His words blurred in my head and didn't make any sense.
"Huh?" Then I started hacking again.
"You sound like shit."
"Yeah well I feel like shit too. I think I’m dying." My voice croaked out like a broken thing.
"I’ll come over."
Before I could tell him no, he’d hung up. I didn’t want Andy to come over. If I sounded like shit and felt like shit, chances were I looked like shit too and I lacked the strength to put on makeup. Maybe I could get a scarf and wrap it around my face. I'd just have to suck it up and let him see me looking like a monster because I really could not move.

Notes

How do you think Andy is gonna act? Cx