Mozart! Bugger! Accustomed as she was to springing into action before her radio alarm, Sadie was jolted out of her reverie by the distorted howl of overdriven classical ensemble. Blearily, she drew the tangle of copper hair away from her face, flipped a Ramones disc into the CD changer, hit play, and stumbled around looking for a towel and the plot.
"Tweny-tweny-tweny-four hours away, I wanna be sedated…sod, I'm gonna be late!"
Enlivened by a lobster-broiling shower, she ticked off her itinerary: Post that damned UCAS form; chair English-class discussion; phone Virgin, check hours for this weekend and order CD for Kate; give Daniel, Lou & Stephen their tickets for tonight; skim through local LibDem manifesto; work out, jerk off; get Dad to take a look at computer case fan. Yeah, I'm sure he wants to see the inside of more of those when he gets in from work. As a wise man once said, never could get the hang of Tuesdays. Shit, how long have I been in here?
Exiting the bathroom and being immediately confronted with the debauched spectacle of her brother's door, she flicked water and suds disparagingly in the direction of his most worrying Sailor Moon poster. Daily rituals don't come much weirder than this. Wonder what he's doing right now? Probably in bed skiving lectures. She halted and mused…
"Honey?"
"Yeah, mom!"
"Are you coming home before the concert tonight?"
"I told you, I'll cook! Spag bol with button mushies, 'k?"
No time for make-up. Do it at college. Rapidly, she exhumed a 'Save The Gay Whale' t-shirt, pulled on flared jeans and ruby DMs, and flicked over to MTV2. Hey-hey, Muse! An underdog makes it through the fence! Ageing-but-still-furry backpack-Yoda quickly became the receptacle for pens, mobile and notebook. Books! Morse or Hitchhikers? Oh, mustn't forget The Bell Jar! Fiddling with a sports bra, her finger traced the outline of the small green four-leaf clover atop her collarbone. Eventually, she knew, she'd have to explain said tattoo to more people. Her parents. Maybe even Daniel, if he gets into Exeter too. She grinned.
Hurtling through the lounge, Sadie found her mother sifting through international library classification documents with a distracted eye on tea and toast. Time for cornflakes at least. She poured herself a large mug of freshly ground caffeine and scoffed breakfast. Ouchie, head still not working. Drugs baaad…more natural stimulants, please. She reached for the percolator. I drink far too much of this stuff.
She rose from the table and shouldered the diminutive Jedi master.
"Sadie, take your Nokia!"
"What, you expect me to have to hit someone with it?"
"Darling, you asked me to remind you to call—"
"—Gotta go, Mom; have a destiny to catch!"
Must. Learn. To drive! Green eyes twinkled with mischief and she was out of the swinging door; gingerly hurdling next-door's slumbering Alsatian and sprinting into the distance after the two-six-nine. As she ran, she hummed a riff from the Dead Kennedy's 1982 folk song, "Nazi Punks Fuck Off". It was going to be a good day.