The sound of metal and plastic shattering against the wall startled me from my sleep.
“Again? That’s the third one you’ve broken this week!” I yelled to Meredith. Both doors to our connecting bathroom were open, so I could see straight through from my room to hers. “Tell that alarm clock how you really feel.”
“It needed to go to hell. So I sent it there.” Meredith’s voice was muffled, still mostly asleep. “I’m freaking tired. Need more sleep.”
For a girl who was positively perky all the time, Meredith moved slower than molasses when she first woke up. Everyday it was the same. She’d hit her snooze at least five times. Every once in a while, she’d chuck the alarm clock against the wall in frustration. But three days in a row was a streak, even for a girl who stashed boxes of them in her
