The bright light of morning crept through my bedroom window as I stirred in bed.
“Another day in paradise,” I mumbled sarcastically to myself as I fumbled with the baby blue sheet currently snaked around me, preventing my escape. The bright lavender walls of my bedroom were the same as they had been since I was little, besides the small tears from where I had picked at it as a child, and the fading from years of cigarette smoke when my father had been alive. He died in a car accident when I was 4, so I knew very little about him. When I was finally free of the sheets, I dressed and jogged downstairs to eat the eggs and bacon I could smell as the scent ascended the stairs and drifted into my room.
“Morning,” I mumbled dully as I jumped down the last flight of steps, the mahogany wood chipped and worn from years of me and my 17 year old brother’s horseplay. My mom’s rebuttal was as predictable as ever.
“You really need to stop being so immature, Elizabeth. You are 15 years old for heavens sake.” Ugh! She knows I hate the name Elizabeth, and yet she continues to use it!
“Ok first of all its Liz, mom. It’s not that hard to remember! Second I’m not immature I just like to express myself, unlike some one I know,” I shot back obviously annoyed by her already. My mother and I don’t get along, to put it lightly. We both silently blame each other for my father’s death. She was the one who made him go out to buy tickets for that stupid recital! I didn’t even want them to go to it, but she blames me because it was my dance recital. Since his death it’s been world war three in our rundown shack of a house. My mom is a teacher, so naturally our home isn’t a royal palace. What makes matters worse is that she works at my high school, so she is constantly checking up on me, and butting into my business. I can’t stand her!
“Give it a rest Liz, she’s never listened before, so what makes you think she will now?” Luke, my brother and the only person I can rely on, replied while displaying his absolutely gorgeous smile. He wasn’t very fond of our oh so loveable mother either, but he wasn’t as open about it as I was.
“I know, but sometimes I hope that maybe our real mom is trapped somewhere and she will magically poof down someday and save us from zombie mom over there,” I smiled triumphantly at the glare she shot at me. I saw Luke chuckling in the background, though he would never admit it openly.
“Come on little sis, time to go share your lovey feelings with everyone at school,” Luke called as he walked out the door. I shot one more smug look at my mom before jogging out the door after him.
“How can you put up with her?” I asked when I had finally caught up with him. He looked down at me with humor evident in his eyes. He was a got head taller than me, and I was 5 ft. 6.
“A better question is how do I put up with you? Your witty comments just provoke her.” He pointed out with a look that screamed ‘I’m right and you know it.’
“True….but seeing that look on her face just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!” It was impossible for him to hold a straight face on that one.
“How do you come up with this stuff Liz? Honestly, you’re going to grow up to be a comedian if I don’t set you straight soon!” Luke loved to tease me about my sense of humor and often found much entertainment in listening to my mother and I fight, not that I could blame him.
“Hmmm maybe I was dropped on my head as a baby and it completely wiped out all of the genetics I got from mom, because the only thing funny about her is her looks.” We both laughed at that. Mom was no beauty queen. She is way to thin, I swear she’s anorexic, and he face looks like a mix of a grizzly bear and a pig after rolling in a mud puddle.
“I think I’m leaning more along the lines of adoption,” he winked as he said it.
“Well then she must have stolen us from the orphanage because there is absolutely no way anyone would give her a child!” At that moment we reached Mackdale high school, named after the town, Mackdale, Georgia. It was just an institute of torture in my eyes. I groaned aloud as I walked through the front gates.
“Oh give it a rest Liz, its not so bad. At least you don’t have mom as a teacher.” Mom taught senior research writing, so Luke had the honor of sitting in her class for an hour every day. He always played the pity card when I whined about school saying that I was lucky I didn’t have to sit in mom’s class everyday.
“If I had mom as a teacher I would have been expelled by now. I still don’t understand why you decided to take research writing when you knew mom was the teacher.” He looked at me like I had just said pigs could fly.
“Liz, you know I want to be a journalist. In order to do that I have to take all the writing and computer classes I can. Research writing is the most important of all of them. If I don’t even know how to write a research paper how can I ever hope to be a journalist?” That made sense I guess, but I still can’t imagine a car
a career worth an hour with mom everyday.
“Whatever you say bro, but it’s your funeral.” I murmured with a smirk and headed to biology.
“Ah, the wonders of dissection! Don’t you just love cutting innocent animals apart?” I asked my lab partner and all time best friend, Tim, as I eagerly awaited the teachers announcement to begin.
“Well when you put it that way…no!” He replied with an amused smirk on his face, “Judging by your excitement to torture dead animals, I’d say you and your mom had your typical morning.
“Pretty much, but that why I love 1st hour biology. There are lots of opportunities to cut things up,” He laughed silently at my response, so as not to draw the teacher’s attention.
“Well as long as it cheers you up its fine by me,” He finalized and began his work. When class was over I felt refreshed and ready to continue my day. Tim and I didn’t have 2nd hour together so we said our farewells and parted ways. Mackdale high was a rather small school, you knew almost every
everyone, so when Mr. Gully, my teacher, announced that there was a new student we were all shocked.
“Class, this is William Sornstum. He has moved here from Florida, so I want you all to make him feel at home,” Mr. Gully announced while giving us the ‘If you don’t I will fail you’ look.
“Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself William?” Mr. Gully continued.
“My name is Will,” He muttered and took his seat. Talk about a freak! What’s his deal, anyways? All he told us was to call him Will not William. Mr. Gully just shrugged and began his lesson. Of course, the only seat available is right next to me, so I get the pleasure of watching Mr. Psycho all hour, and to make matters worse he stared at me the entire time. The expression he had on his face resembled a child who had finally gotten the batman cape he had always wanted but it had a rip in it.
“Did you just get out of the nut house or something because you kind of creep me out?” I whispered once the Mr. Gully was deep into
“I could ask you the same question,” he mumbled without the slightest hint of emotion.
“You have no write to say that! You don’t know anything about me!” I blurted out, attracting the teacher’s attention, and earning myself a warning glare.
“Nor do you,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Oh come on! There is no way you just said ‘nor’. Please tell me I was hearing things,” I whisper groaning quietly at his prehistoric choice of vocabulary. He did not respond but instead turned back toward Mr. Gully to focus on the lesson. We did not speak for the rest of class.
This has really been a big issue for me, please help!
Susan Yarrawonga (280)