everything is copyrighted (:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER 1
Wake up, wake up! This is just a dream.
This is what I tell myself, but of course it’s real. I can’t wake up, not now, not ever. That man took my life, now I don’t know what to do. He took me to that place and let me there to rot.
“Wake up soldier!”
No it can’t be him. He killed me. I’m just dreaming in my afterlife. Even dead people can dream, right?
“Bree, wake up! I’m not going to tell you again.”
I know who it is, but it’s not him. What’s that sound, oh no!
“I said get up,” said the young sixteen year old boy in front of my gasping state.
I hate him. I hate my brother. I am drenched in ice cold water and sitting straight up in bed.
“I hate you; I hate you with a passion. No more like loath.” Groggily, I laugh and so does he.
I can’t stay mad at my brother. He is the one who looks me after me, after all. Oh, our parents are there, but not really. Not all the way. Not all the time. You know how it is, the mom always at work, the dad always at the range. We put the fun in dysfunctional.
My brother is my protector, companion and friend. He feeds me, clothes me, and does about everything a normal brother would do. Just amplify that by a thousand. The only thing is, we look nothing like each other or our parents. Our parents are short and pudgy, coming to about five foot five inches, with blonde hair and green eyes. My brother, on the other hand, towers over me by about three inches, coming to about six foot one inch, while I am five foot ten inches. While he has brown hair blue eyes, I have a violent red- orange hair color and grey eyes. He is muscular and graceful. I am slender and clumsy.
Despite all these differences, we are one in the same. We like the same food; we like the same games, we both like the outside world, and we both want to get out of this house. We planned it out too. When he turns eighteen he will go and get an apartment with one bedroom- which I get- and one bathroom. He will buy a futon, and will sleep on that. When I’m eighteen I’ll move in with him. Right now I’m fifteen, only three more years to go, woopty- doo.
I get out of bed and go take a shower. When it’s the beginning of fall in North Dakota, it gets a little cold and the bucket of ice water that just got dumped on me doesn't help much. I hop in the shower and wish that today my hair will behave properly as I get out. When I get back to my room, I notice that my brother has put new sheets on my bed as a sort of ‘I’m sorry’ kind of gesture. I smile and go put on my shoes- without socks, something I have learned from my brother- and head down the steps for breakfast.
On the way down, as usual, I trip and land on the floor with a thud. The first day of school and I already have a bruise forming on my thigh, great. Then I smell it, the rosemary, and the savory sweet smell that I love. I love the smell of herbs and flowers, especially basil and lilac, that sweet and savory scent makes my mouth water and my tongue tingle. My dad planted a lilac tree for me in the backyard three years ago, before…
“So, ready for school?” my brother asks me, breaking me out of my reverie.
“Yeah, I just need to grab some lotion. The colder it gets, the harder it is.” I said, knowing my brother understood.
“Hey, are you running out? I noticed you didn't put it on yesterday night”
That’s my brother, always caring and annoying me to no end. That’s the only thing that I wish he would stop doing, caring about me more than he cares about his own state of mind. If he has to care about anything right now, it’s the fact that this is his junior year.
“I just decided not to put it on; and no I am not running out, why?” I asked back.
“I was going to the store today, and was wondering if I needed to pick some up.”
“If you want to pick some up, you go on right ahead. You know what to get right?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you at school okay?”
“Okay, but I kind of hoped you would be there. It is my first day of high school after all.”
“You will be fine. This is one of the safest high schools there is. I swear I will check up on you after your first class, okay?”
“Fine, I will see you there.” I say as I hop off the stool.
When I get done eating breakfast, making sure that my white wool sweater and flower pattern skirt have no food on them, I walk out the door to our old weeping willow. As I walk past it, I reach out my hand and touch the old knotted bark for good luck like I always do, and start walking up the street.
Lazy Creek High School; ninth grade, first day and I already know it’s going to be the longest year of my life. This is the year I get to re-invent myself to who I want to be and not who I really am. This is the year I make friends that won’t stab me in the back, I get to make sure that there is no name calling that makes me want to jump off of a building, not make me want to cry myself to sleep every night.
Of course, that’s not what happened though.
No comments:
Post a Comment