Why Boys Are Idiots

This story is going to be written by TheBoredDevil, SomeoneAwesome, and Chocolate_Luv, a.k.a. TheReal_Charmander, our joined account.

We'll be writing in different POVs too:

TheBoredDevil -> Cyra Lee

SomeoneAwesome -> Addie Fahrenheit

Chocolate_Luv -> Zaira Ai

This story is fictional, but it's based on true stories (our lives), and yesh, you should feel bad for us :P

Oh, and don't be offended if you're a guy. You should be happy with the ending we're going to put =)

This crappy description was written by Chocoloate_Luv, so I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense XD

Don't let it stop you from reading on though :P

(Dedicated to @jlap11 for constantly reading, voting, and commenting on all the chapters.)

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Why Boys Are Idiots

Chapter One (Zaira’s POV)

          As soon as I groggily woke up to that annoying alarm, I knew that it wasn’t going to be a good day.

          And I was right, as usual.

          The tangled mess of red curls piled on my head, which was apparently called hair, was in unruly knots and there were large, ugly bags under my eyes. Grunting, I pulled out my brush and tried to sort out the unfortunate mess, but without much luck. With a loud sigh, I tied my hair up in a pony tail and hurried downstairs where a mouth-watering scent of bacon was floating around.

          But as I was just one step away from my heaven, my idiot of a brother jumped in front of me with a wicked smile that actually made him look constipated.

          “Boo!” the five year-old shouted in my face, or at least he tried to considering the fact that he was only three feet tall.

          I rolled my eyes. “Haha, you scared me so much,” I replied with a flat tone, biting back a sarcastic reply since my mother was standing beside the doorway watching our every move.

          With a satisfied smile, my also red-headed mom strutted out the room.

          Zach was still hanging onto my leg with a hopeful look on his face, cutting off my circulation. “But seriously, get a life,” I muttered to him and shook him off.

          I heard his tiny voice call out, “I’m telling on you!”, but I continued my way to the kitchen, refusing to let his behaviours get to me this early in the day.

          I was happily devouring a heavenly plate of bacon and eggs when my mom and brother joined me at the table, with Zach poking her arm for attention and starting his usual list of stupid questions.

          “What does ‘get a life’ mean, mommy?” Zach asked with a mouth full of eggs and his juice-covered hands banging on the table expectantly.

          Immediately, my mom’s accusing hazel eyes landed on me. “Why, honey?” she asked patiently. I almost rolled my eyes at her. It was nearly impossible to stand his disgusting presence, but to actually encourage him to talk? That was ridiculous.

          The little red headed boy pointed his finger in my face, and I scrunched my face up at the motion. “Zairy told me to get one!”

          "Why would you do that, Zaira?” my mother questioned with narrowed eyes. See? Life was not fair. She could spend hours talking to that idiot and not even ask me a question in a sincere voice.

          “Because he needs to,” I sighed, not bothering to hide my annoyance.