Three months later…
“Zoe, get up,” someone said.
In my sleepy state, the voice sounded familiar but hard to discern who it belonged to. Then I felt someone poking me at my side, and I took my hand out from under my pillow and lazily smacked the hand away. I said something that sounded incoherent and tried to get back to sleep.
“Zoe!” the voice was louder now, like my name was said through a megaphone. Ruby—that’s who the voice belonged to. “I swear to God, I will drag you out of this bed if you don’t wake up right this second,” she said, annoyed.
Instead of listening to her, I ignored her. I needed my sleep. She started poking me again, and this time the poking was hard. I shifted away from her finger because it hurt. I slowly peeled my eyes open, squinted up at her. She had both
