Remember Me

Chapter Six

Nestled in the comfort of my bed, I cuddle a pillow, seeking solace in its softness. The morning sun seeps through the slits of my blinds, coaxing me from my sleep. Typically, rising early comes effortlessly to me—I'm a self-proclaimed morning person. Yet today, I suppress a groan as the first ray of sunlight grazes my face.

Picking up my alarm clock on my nightstand, I look at the time.

"Oh no, I've overslept!" I cry, panic surging within me as my gaze darts to the clock, its bright red numbers glaring 11:49 in the morning. I reach my arms overhead, stretching my body awake. As I sit up, a throbbing ache pulsates through my head, causing me to instinctively cradle it in my hand.

Nothing a little excedrin can't handle.

Crawling out of my warm bed, I walk to my bathroom and take out two pills to down, pouring tap water into my rinse cup. Once I take my medicine, I jump into a warm shower, washing my entire body from head to toe as fast as possible. My alarm was supposed to go off at nine, but somehow I slept through it, and now I am scrambling to get myself organized.

My father will be home from work at 12:30 in the afternoon and we will have to be ready with our things in the car within five minutes of his arrival. My father is always talking about how important it is to be on time, even though today is technically a holiday.

I suppose some things never change.

After my shower I brush my teeth and wash my face. When I finish, I put my toothbrush, floss, and toothpaste in my toiletries bag and zip up my duffle bag. Then I change into some black sweat shorts and a forest green crewneck. It's not as warm as it's going to be during the next month, so I am lucky enough to get away with wearing a long sleeved jumper.

"Hey Charlotte, are you ready?" My sister calls from her bedroom.

I open her bedroom door and peer inside. "Um yeah, pretty much. What's up?"

"Can you braid my hair for me?" She asks. "I like the way you do it. Mum offered, but she always makes them too tight."

"Sure, do you have a comb and bands?"

My sister nods and takes a seat on the floor; she is fifteen and still cannot do her own hair. I find it ironic since she is an athlete and needs her hair away from her face all the time. You'd think she'd learn.

"Two french or a fishtail?" I ask.

"Two french please," my sister replies, smiling.

"Alrighty," I nod and start to separate her hair into two sections. I finish braiding one side of Lizzie's hair when she turns her head toward me.

"I've been meaning to ask you Lottie," my sister pauses, choosing her words. "Why are you coming camping with us this year? Not to be rude or anything, of course, but you never showed any genuine interest until now. Before you'd always make up various excuses about school or work. Is it because of the cancer?"

Cancer.

I hate that word. I hate it so much because people always assume I am not the same person when they find out the truth. When they find out about the cancer. In people's eyes I am no longer Charlotte James. I am the sick girl. The girl who is prone to shattering like a glass window.

"No Lizzie," I snap louder than I intend to and she flinches. "I'm nervous, that's all. It's been a while since I've been on the trip. Besides, you've met my boss before, Mitchel, at the pet clinic? He is uptight, you know that. He doesn't give lots of vacation time to his employees."

My sister nods slowly, as if she doesn't fully agree with me.

"But he gave me the month off this year, so I can come," I go on. I don't have the heart to tell her that I resigned from my position at the clinic a few months ago.