to Kiss a Drug Addict

2. You Creep Me Out

"We hate some persons because we do not know them; and will not know them because we hate them". --Charles Caleb Colton

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ROSE'S POV:

I look into the mirror while brushing my long, brown wavy hair. I manage to transform my horrible bed-head into a more presentable hairstyle. A ponytail is quite convenient.

I approve of my appearance for another day of school. Except for the purple bags hanging under my brown eyes due to lack of sleep. Last night, all I did was think about what I did to Peirce. It was awkward and strange holding him so close.

My older brother, Matty, leans against the door frame. Matthew and I rarely fight. We get along pretty well. However, his good looks have molded him into a womanizer. It bothers me because he often brings his girlfriends over.

If two or more of them happen to meet, I have to come in and break up the fights. How? By claiming to be his wife.

"Rose, are you ready for school?" he asks in his fatherly tone. I don't mind. He is the man of the house after all. Dad's in the military and mom...she's gone.

"Yep." I answer, turning to him "Now, I know you hate it when I do this, but I want your opinion."

He groans. Just the reaction I wanted.

I gesture towards my outfit. I'm trying to look my best, just in case I run into Peirce.

"How do I look?"

He rubs the back of his neck, "Isn't that dress a little too short? Put on some leggings."

I scoff looking at the length. It looks good enough for me.

"Matty, you would say that. Come on it's not 2008"

"You look okay to me. But Grandma won't approve. You know how she is-"

I roll my eyes "Let's go. Grandma probably won't even notice."

Grabbing his hand, I pull him away from my messy room (I really need to clean). We run downstairs where we are greeted by our grey-headed grandmother, tapping her foot impatiently.

"You are late." she sternly says.

"Good-morning to you too."

Matty kisses her cheek. Pff, grandma's-boy.

I love grandma to bits and pieces but when she has an attitude it makes me feel like a five-year-old child. Something about authority makes my skin itch. And Grandma, she doesn't like me sometimes, I don't like her sometimes (but that comes rarely)

One thing I accept is the fact that she's the only motherly figure I have. She cooks for me and washes my clothes. She also lets me skip school when I'm too tired or when I feel down.

I can tell when she wakes up on the wrong side of the bed. Today is one of those days.

Grandma picks at my dress scowling, "You're wearing that to school?"

I clench my clothes, "I don't see anything wrong, Grandma."

She shakes her head at my response, "You are not going to school like that."

My shoulders slump, "I should've worn leggings."

"Told ya'" Matty whispers, planting a smirk on his face.

I glare at him. "Grandma, this is the style nowadays. There's nothing to be worried about."

"Well excuse me for not wanting youngsters over there to think my granddaughter is a streetwalker."