That I Would Be Good

Chapter Three

“I am convinced that life is 10% of what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.” – C. Swindall

    My mom woke me up early the next morning for school. I hadn’t been up this early since freshman year. I always skipped first hour and second hour. I was not a morning person I did all I could to avoid from getting up in the morning hours.

     It took my mom twenty-minutes to get me out of bed. She banged pots, yelled in my ear, tried bribery, everything. Finally when she threatened to take away my iPhone and delete my game of Fruit Ninja. I hopped out of bed. I had gotten really high in that game and I could not chance losing that hard work.

     Smiling, proud with herself, my mom threw a denim jacket and a navy blue V-neck T-shirt onto my bed. She bought me new clothes. Did she honestly think getting me new clothes would give me a new personality?

     “What are those for?” I asked my voice hoarse from sleep.

    “School. I thought it’d be nicer than the old stuff you’ve been wearing since you were fourteen,” she called over her shoulder.

      “I like that old shit,” I mumbled to myself, rolling out of bed and onto the floor. I fell flat on my face, and stayed there clearing my head. Maybe if I had fallen hard enough I would have died and not have had to go to school. No such luck.

      “You better be up Elodey!” my mom called from down stairs. I groaned, rolled over, and stared at the stars on the ceiling. It was impossible to see the pattern of the constellations with my blinds pulled open and the sun streaming through.

     My mom knew opening the blinds would get me up. Once light hit my eyes I was pretty much up until darkness came once again. My sleeping pattern was like a chickens, I guess.

     Sitting up and stretching I grabbed the clothes and held them in front of me. They weren’t as bad as I thought. I guess I could wear them. It wouldn’t ruin my image all much.

     Once dressed I moved to brushing my short hair. I had a pixie cut. I cringed when I looked in the mirror. One side of my hair was standing up while the other was matted.

    Deciding that brushing would do nothing I did the best I could by matting it down with my hands. Did I mention brushing my hair was something I hated to do? The messier it was the better. More proof of how little I cared about what people thought of me.

     Make-up was something I completely ignored, except for a little bit of foundation and cover up. As much as I hate to admit it, I had far from perfect skin. I had acne scars from early puberty and I still had a little bit of acne now.

    Smearing the foundation on my face, I glared in the mirror at a big red zit on my forehead. Great in just the right spot where I couldn’t cover it with my side-bangs.  This was definitely not going to be my day.

     After my makeup was done I walked downstairs dragging, my backpack behind. Thump, thump, thump. My bad mood got worse with every step.

     When I reached the bottom of the stairs the smell of pancakes and bacon hit me. My mom always a made big breakfast if I got up early enough; which I usually didn’t.

     “You look good this morning,” my mom commented, putting a plate heaped with pancakes and bacon at my spot on the table.

     “Don’t I know it,” I grumbled dropping my bag on the ground as I slumped into my chair. I picked up a piece of bacon and let the greasy flavor fill my mouth.

      “So are you going to attend any of your classes today?” she asked, sitting down  and pouring syrup on her stack of pancakes.

     I swallowed slowly. I had only agreed to take the tests and do my homework, not actually attend class. Did she misunderstand what I’d said to her? Or had I just missed a vital loophole in her deal?