Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > .waste.of.time.
“Mmph.” In an attempt to shut my frantically beeping alarm off, I missed the snooze button and rolled entirely out of bed.
That’ll wake you up.
I looked over and realized that my head had missed the corner of my nightstand by maybe an inch.
That was close. If my luck had shifted just slightly, I’d be headed to the ER today instead of the theater. And then I’d have Gram hovering over me, demanding to know what the hell I’d been doing to cause this, making me wish for the light at the end of the tunnel . . .
Or whatever it is that you see when you’re dying.
I picked myself up, trying not to trip in my tangle of blankets. What time was it?
8:31am, said my clock, in its blue, square numbers.
I yawned.
Okay. Now I just needed to get dressed, and then get something to eat . . . And probably go over my song one more time, and make sure I hadn’t forgotten any of the words in my monologue during the night, and . . .
Oh, yeah. I needed to call Gerard to make sure he was up.
And I needed to do all of this without waking Gram up, or else I’d never get out of the house.
I was going to call Gerard first, but I decided to give him five extra minutes of sleep while I got dressed. I slipped into my clothes, then washed my face, applied my eyeliner, brushed my teeth and my hair and spent a whole other minute deciding whether or not to put a ski cap on.
The green one.
The red one . . . No, I wore that one on Thursday.
The black one.
The black one with a border of white stars on it.
The purple one.
In the end, I went with the black one with white stars, and went to call Gerard. He picked up right before the call went to voicemail.
“What,” he said.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said.
He yawned. “Look, are you ready to leave? I’ll be at your house in, like five minutes.”
“You’ve already left?” I was surprised.
“No, but I’m about to.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, sure, I’m ready.”
“Kay.” He hung up.
I ran through my song and monologue twice each before going downstairs and spreading some cream cheese on bagels as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake Gram up. I wrapped the bagels in paper towels and put them in Ziplocs before putting them in my bag, and then I went outside to wait for Gerard so he wouldn’t have to ring the doorbell.
I sat down on my front steps and silently went over my monologue. I don’t know why I’m always so worried that I’m going to forget my lines. Maybe it’s all the dreams I have where I’m standing onstage in front of a full house, all ready to give a nice, long soliloquy . . .
And nothing comes out, because I can’t remember anything.
Evie says that fear makes me try harder to remember my lines. She might be right. Who knows?
The moment I saw Gerard’s old car pulling into my driveway, I heard the door open behind me.
My heart sank.
Now I was never going to get out of here. Not only that, I would be so, so busted, because Gram would accuse me of sneaking out with Gerard to do God knows what.
Apparently, Gerard didn’t see me, because he parked, got out of his car, and started heading up the walkway.
“What on God’s green earth . . .” Gram said.
That’ll wake you up.
I looked over and realized that my head had missed the corner of my nightstand by maybe an inch.
That was close. If my luck had shifted just slightly, I’d be headed to the ER today instead of the theater. And then I’d have Gram hovering over me, demanding to know what the hell I’d been doing to cause this, making me wish for the light at the end of the tunnel . . .
Or whatever it is that you see when you’re dying.
I picked myself up, trying not to trip in my tangle of blankets. What time was it?
8:31am, said my clock, in its blue, square numbers.
I yawned.
Okay. Now I just needed to get dressed, and then get something to eat . . . And probably go over my song one more time, and make sure I hadn’t forgotten any of the words in my monologue during the night, and . . .
Oh, yeah. I needed to call Gerard to make sure he was up.
And I needed to do all of this without waking Gram up, or else I’d never get out of the house.
I was going to call Gerard first, but I decided to give him five extra minutes of sleep while I got dressed. I slipped into my clothes, then washed my face, applied my eyeliner, brushed my teeth and my hair and spent a whole other minute deciding whether or not to put a ski cap on.
The green one.
The red one . . . No, I wore that one on Thursday.
The black one.
The black one with a border of white stars on it.
The purple one.
In the end, I went with the black one with white stars, and went to call Gerard. He picked up right before the call went to voicemail.
“What,” he said.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said.
He yawned. “Look, are you ready to leave? I’ll be at your house in, like five minutes.”
“You’ve already left?” I was surprised.
“No, but I’m about to.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, sure, I’m ready.”
“Kay.” He hung up.
I ran through my song and monologue twice each before going downstairs and spreading some cream cheese on bagels as quietly as I could so I wouldn’t wake Gram up. I wrapped the bagels in paper towels and put them in Ziplocs before putting them in my bag, and then I went outside to wait for Gerard so he wouldn’t have to ring the doorbell.
I sat down on my front steps and silently went over my monologue. I don’t know why I’m always so worried that I’m going to forget my lines. Maybe it’s all the dreams I have where I’m standing onstage in front of a full house, all ready to give a nice, long soliloquy . . .
And nothing comes out, because I can’t remember anything.
Evie says that fear makes me try harder to remember my lines. She might be right. Who knows?
The moment I saw Gerard’s old car pulling into my driveway, I heard the door open behind me.
My heart sank.
Now I was never going to get out of here. Not only that, I would be so, so busted, because Gram would accuse me of sneaking out with Gerard to do God knows what.
Apparently, Gerard didn’t see me, because he parked, got out of his car, and started heading up the walkway.
“What on God’s green earth . . .” Gram said.
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