Romans & histoires I Got The Sunshine In My Pocket

❀ Kate ❀ We REALLY need a bigger mirror up here. I squinted at myself critically into the compact glass square above my dingy locker, rubbing a generous amount of 60 SPF sunscreen into my neck and chest vigorously. Joyner Lucas' "Broke and Stupid" was playing on the small back radio we were allowed to have while working, and I bobbed my head slightly to the chill beat as I finished up.

] I slipped my phone into my pocket and headed for my car. Morning sun spilled across the road as I hit the gas and drove toward the life that was finally mine.

Emily walked toward me and pulled a card out of her bag, setting it on the table. "There's five hundred thousand dollars in there. Call it compensation." I didn't take it. "No point. None of it matters anymore." She hesitated. Her eyes landed on the pill bottles scattered by the bed. Something flickered across her face. Then she grabbed the bottles, her expression turning sour. "Nathan. I know you still have feelings for me, but pulling this kind of stunt for sympathy is pathetic." She threw the bottles in the trash. I looked up at her. That face I loved to the bone. The face I'd seen a thousand times in my dreams—smiling, crying, laughing. But never cold like this.

Jaladri was waiting, holding a small dagger. “What did he throw at the end?” Jaladri asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you retreat that quickly.” “Corpse Forest poison powder. One breath is enough to burn your insides to ash.” “That explains it.” Jaladri held up a smalll dagger. “I caught this one after you knocked it aside. Maybe you've seen it before.” Wisnumurti took the weapon. The moment he saw the skull carved into the hilt, his face hardened.

By the time Rose finished half her cake, I had finished my awful instant noodles. On her stream, her other phone suddenly lit up. She glanced at the screen, her eyes reddening as surprise flickered across her face. A few seconds later, she broke down in tears before an audience of over a hundred thousand viewers.

I said, “You don’t want the cash, fine. Take this instead. You ever need anything... and I mean anything—you call that number. Someone’ll answer. You say my name. That’s it.” Even stepping back, the charge stayed under my skin. I needed to get the fuck out of there. Her throat bobbed, lashes flickering as she glanced down at the card and then back up at me. “I don’t—” “I know you don’t think you need it,” I cut in, “But the world isn't all cinnamon and chamomile, Sunshine. Sometimes it bites. When it does, you call me.” I stepped back, hand dropping away slow. “Promise me.”

Completely disgusted, Pia Drew walked briskly going inside but Andrew held her hand tightly that he could feel her bones in his palm. "Remember everything you did in the library?" Andrew showed his dimpled left cheek. "Are artists supposed to be trained how to handle situations like that?" Pia Drew hardly pulled off his hand from her wrist. "Sunny, why do you hate me so much?" There was a sudden silence while their eyes met. That was the very first time Pia Drew heard him call her Sunny. "Do you expect all people to like you?" "No. That's why I want to get you to like me."

I reached for the mesh bag where I kept my underwear, but it was empty. I frowned. I dug deeper, checking the side pockets, checking under the layers of clothes. Nothing. "What is it?" Clara asked, seeing my digging. "My underwear," I said, my voice rising. "It's gone." "Did you leave it on the island?" "No! I packed it this morning, I watched myself pack it!" My fingers brushed against something stiff in the side pocket of the mesh bag, a piece of black cardstock. I pulled it out. "I didn't say the rule ended just because we left the island. No barriers, Sunshine. Even in your dorm, you belong to me."

In the end, the traffickers had no choice but to hide me in a suitcase to take me away. I was trapped in that suitcase for an entire day. My mouth was sealed with tape, so I couldn't call for help. I lost all sense of time. My consciousness slowly faded until I passed out completely. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My mother held me and cried inconsolably. That was when I learned that I had nearly suffocated and died in that suitcase. The doctor said that if they had found me half an hour later, I might not have survived.

“Can I sit?” “Do whatever you like.” He shifts his weight to his other foot, a hand in his pocket. Hand in his pocket. I laugh at myself as the thought flies in my head. That’s the title of the song that made us cool. Hand in my pocket. Alanis Morissette.