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Everything Jake: Junior Year Whiteout. The room was filled with a soft white light and the silent sound of a blizzard. It was one of the best nights of sleep in Jake Bruno’s young life, and it had nothing to do that Faith Robbins was sleeping next to him. Faith had had a rough night, she tossed and turned and would not wake up with the sense of refreshment Jake would. Her night was full of violent, vivid dreams which she would lose memory of as soon as her eyes opened. They would linger for a second, like most dreams do, but as soon as the logic side of her brain process the thoughts, they would be ground up and absorbed back to where they came from. Except for a feeling. One feeling would stay with her. Jake Bruno is now yours. Jake opened his eyes and didn’t realize where he was for a second. He was facing a wall with some cracks in it painted a color of yellow that could only be described as pea soup, even though he knew pea soup was more of a green. The bed he was in did not have a frame; it was just a box spring and a mattress. He noticed the height difference and then realized where he was. This is Kelly’s apartment, I had made fun of him for not having a bed. I told him a bed had a frame and a backboard, and he punched me in the arm. But if I’m at Kelly’s… then that must mean… Jake turned on his back and her a troubled moan from right next to him. He looked over and saw Faith, her eyes were tightly pressed shut, she didn’t look happy. Must be having some sort of nightmare, should I wake her? “Hey, Faith, wake up…” He shook her shoulder and her eyes opened, there was pain in them at first and then it smoothed away. She darted her eyes at Jake. “Jake? What? Oooohhh… my head…” She sat up and put her hands on her head. Her temples throbbed. Her neck was achy. The white light in the room hurt her eyes. I’m hung over. I’m freaking hung over. “You okay, Faith?” “How much did I drink last night?” “Don’t remember. I think you drank a lot of Southern Comfort though.” “Ugh. That’s why my mouth tastes all funny. Did I puke?” “Not that I know of. Unless you puked in bed.” “I don’t think I—Jake…?” “Yeah?” “Why are we… why are we in bed together?”    
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EVERYTHING JAKE is TM & (C) 2000-2011 by Mike Rosenzweig. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
