"ANDY! OH ANDY!" I groaned. It was a week after the fateful Halloween dance and a day after Caleb’s birthday party. That had been… interesting, to say the least.

"What, Alice, could you possibly want at this ungodly hour?" I growled, not too thrilled about being woken up.

"LET'S GO TO CEDAR POINT! LET'S GO TO CEDAR POINT!" she squealed, bouncing up and down on my back. I rolled over and shoved her off my bed.

"Get off me, you retard," I said, my voice all husky with sleep.

"Come on, Andy! Thorne's waiting in the car with all the emos! Let's GO!"

"ALIIIICE!" I whined, "Sleeping Andy! School's out!"

"Caleb's there too," she said, obviously hoping it would motivate me.

"And that means what to me?" I asked. Mission failed, Alice.

"YOU HAVE 20 MINUTES TO GET YOUR BUTT UP AND READY!" she squealed, bouncing out of the room. I rolled my eyes at her and laid my head back on my pillow. I was just about getting back to sleep when I felt the bed sag. Either the bed was about to break, which I doubted since this bed was only two years old, or Alice had come to ask me what shirt she should wear. I growled and sat up.

"Alice. I love you. You are Lorelai to my Sookie. But if you do not let me get some sleep, I will become your Emily, understand?" I said, keeping my head low and rubbing my eyes. I love sleep.

"What's a Sookie?" It was a deep male voice that could not have possibly belonged to Alice. I opened one eye and groaned.

"Of course," I moaned.

"Of course what?" It was still the guy.

"Of course YOU have to be here."

"Oh, thanks," he said.

"That didn't come out right. I mean, of course you have to be here while I'm all sleepy and angry and unattractive." I sat up. "And I have bed head. Bad bed head."

"Well, I'll agree with that. But seriously, Thorne's gonna start throwing things if you don't get up," he said.

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?" I got up with a huge groan.

"Would you please put on some pants?" Caleb asked with a sigh.

"You know you love it," I said, prancing to the bathroom to put on said pants.

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving,” he said, walking out of the room. I went into the bathroom and changed, then walked back out into my room.

“Are you done yet?” he complained.

“Yes, spawn of Satan, I am,” I replied nonchalantly, rifling through my purple suitcase to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. He opened the door tentatively and came in. He walked across the room and sprawled on his stomach on my bed. Adorable emo moron.

“Move along, emo-boy,” I said, “Time to go.”

“Mmph,” he said, rolling over. Quite articulate, isn’t he? “Did I ever mention how much I hate that Altair’s a morning person?”

“Why’s that?” I asked, zipping my spiffy purple suitcase back up.

“He ran into my room at about four this morning and jumped on me, the little bastard…” he muttered, sitting up.

“Why four?” I asked.

“Because he wanted to.”

“Did you throw him into a wall?”

“Yes. I swear that guy has the mental age of a four-year old…” he trailed off and got up, muttering something under his breath.
"I’d have to agree with that. However, emo, we have to go. You're the one that said Thorne would... start… throw-" I caught off mid-sentence as I realized that Caleb was getting closer... and closer... and closer... God, I could count his individual eyelashes... and then-