CHAPTER 3
I WOKE THE next morning still hugging the pillow as if it were some kind of surrogate boyfriend. Was this destined to be my life?
Get out of bed, Callie.
My joints creaked as I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. The headache I’d had for the last five days hadn’t shifted, and my mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage. Or at least, what I imagined the bottom of a birdcage would taste like. I hadn’t exactly checked.
I flicked on the bathroom light and groaned when I saw myself in the mirror—mascara was smeared across my face as a result of my crying jag, and my hair, normally a shiny chocolate waterfall that fell to the middle of my back, more closely resembled a bird’s nest. Plus I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
Where was my toiletry bag? I rummaged t
