Shutout

A Realization

Ramona has run every morning for as long as she can remember. At this point it's by nature. Like clockwork at 5:30 Ramona wakes up. She puts her hair in a high pony and changes into leggings or shorts depending on the weather, a sports bra, and maybe a loose shirt or hoodie. She's a creature of habit. When she runs she can think. Truly be alone. No one stops a girl running at 5 am to ask about her grades or say something that will inevitably annoy her.

Today Ramona had thrown on a pair of black leggings and a large t-shirt with a band whose name she didn't recognize. Her morning runs are 2.5 miles, no more, no less. It's January and the weather in West Etteca was less than pleasant. But under only two conditions did Ramona give up her morning run: a) she throws up at least twice or b) she had been notified there is only 5 minutes until an Earth-shattering meteor hits. (In which case she would spend the last 5 minutes debating what should be the last song or two she can listen to before being too indecisive and running out of time before making a decision)

Her thoughts ran wild. At first she was annoyed. Ramona had woken up displeased when she smelt a bag of Lucas's dirty gym clothes at her door. It was Ramona's turn for laundry and Lucas had decided the best time to give her his dirty clothes would be the middle of the night so she could wake up to the lovely scent of his socks! For maybe half a mile Ramona thought of possible revenge, something slow and subtle. Where he won't notice for weeks and when he finally does notice he'll think he'd just gone crazy. Perhaps she could start replacing photos in his room? or sign him up for anonymous cat fact texts at all hours of the day? (Scratch that-he'd probably enjoy it) Scatter keys across the city with his number on it so he gets endless calls from strangers attempting to return his keys? Ramona would have to ponder it another time.

A new thought came into her mind. What had made her upset last night? After the initial shock of the rancid aroma of sweaty teenage boy had infiltrated her poor nostrils, Ramona scrambled to find her airpods in her tousled sheets and blankets. Ramona only slept with her airpods in when she was really upset, when the world really overtook her. Ramona honestly couldn't remember, so it couldn't have been too bad. Probably just another half-hearted fight between her parents with unfulfilled promises and guilt ridden lies.

Something was really bothering Ramona. It wasn't the fight, or the laundry. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but something was making her feel funny in a way she never does. There was a tight feeling in her stomach that made her brows furrow with no means of stopping.

Ramona's steps were steady. She stayed at the same rhythm, never missing a beat. Ramona comes to a sudden halt at the sound of a notification filling her ears in the middle of her current pump up song (her running playlist had honestly become less song-like and more noises and yelling that were loud). Her quick stop causes her to lose balance and before she knows it she's heading face first to the ground.

"What the fuck!" To avoid situations like this, Ramona always had her notifications on silent. So whoever had texted her must have specifically chosen to give her a notification. If it wasn't a text that she had been chosen to be the one who goes to Mars, there was going to be an issue. Ramona sat up and pushed herself up so she was sitting on the curb. She let her legs fully extend so they were almost dangerously veering into the road. No one had driven past in the few minutes Ramona had been running down this street so she assumed she was fine.

*unsaved number*

5:38 - yo u up for meeting @ starbs after school tuesday?

5:39 - i have practice at 5 and will need some prepractice fuel ykwim ;)

Ramona sighed. She supposed now was the time she should probably save his number in her phone. Ramona saved his contact under 'BE'. An unspoken status quo of her phone was saving everyone's contact under their initials. You could say it made it simpler but it really wasn't, especially when people had the same initials and she had to ask for middle names. Three letters just doesn't hit the same. So you could say that but it was just something Ramona had been doing for forever. Ramona Bell doesn't break tradition, most definitely not her own traditions anyway.