Her phone dies

Riley groaned as she squinted her eyes against the sunlight. It had fallen directly onto her pillow, waking her up from a deep and restful slumber. She wanted to turn over and go back to sleep, but something... something didn't seem right. She was too tired to figure out what that something might be, however. She covered her eyes with the crook of her elbow and quickly ran through the list of problems. She wiggled her toes; her legs still worked. Her arm, too, or else some sort of snake was covering her face. No headache. No stomach ache. She ran her free hand over the bed sheet; nothing wet or cold or unusual. Her clothes; yep, pyjamas were still on. Not like when she...

When she...

When she skates. At 4am in the morning. In darkness. The sun is beginning to warm her arm.

Panicking, she sits bolt upright, reaches across to her dresser table and picks up her phone. She presses the button beneath the screen. A faint image of a dead battery appears on the screen before fading away. She follows the cord leading from her phone to the power socket. The socket is turned off. Her phone - her alarm - is dead.

A cold dread enters her stomach as she gets to her feet and opens one of her dresser drawers. She pulls out a watch, and her eyes widen as she realises the time. Quarter past nine in the morning. She's slept in. The papers have to be delivered by ten.

She kicks off her slippers, leaving her wearing a pair of black tight-fitting bed shorts and a plain yellow t-shirt. She slips on her jean shorts, rationalising that her pyjama bottoms are sound replacements for panties, before strapping her Velcro sneakers onto her bare feet. She attaches the watch - seventeen minutes past! - and dashes downstairs.

Her parents are at work, so there's nobody to greet her as she dashes into the garage and throws the backpack over her shoulder. She's got less than forty five minutes to get across the entire neighbourhood. If she runs, she rationalises, then maybe she can make it. Maybe.

Her eyes rest upon her skateboard. She can't. Not in broad daylight. She can't.

"Unless I use you carefully." she murmurs, eyeing it. "Just... when I know for sure that the coast is clear. I might be able to make it in time."