14

14 intro/Chapter 1

AN: This is my first public story, so any thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated. I hope you enjoy this story as much as my friend and I enjoyed making it!

Chapter 1

I awake to shitty music, blaring throughout my room. If this dumb music was a person it'd be a real asshole. The kind of asshole that reminds the teacher of homework, or wakes you up when you have nothing to do that day. As I lay in my bed I wait for the music to stop but realize that's not how it works.
"Echo, stop," I mumbled, my head in my pillow. She must not have heard me because it persisted. "Echo, stop!" I yelled this time, lifting my head from my pillow. This time, it shut up. I lied in bed for a moment, contemplating whether or not I wanted to get up. I looked around my room and examined it for no real reason, as if I was seeing it for the first time. I looked at all my posters; basketball players, musicals, I looked from Heathers, to Hamilton, then to West Side Story, and back to Heathers; you know the preeminent ones. Then to my favorite bands, like Fall Out Boy, Nirvana, and Green Day. My eyes turned toward my collection of basketball cards, then my favorite basketball, (signed by Steph Curry.); seriously, if you believe that, you are an idiot, and I believe you should close this book.
Then all my trophies, rings, and awards. I sat for a minute, pondering if I should even go to school today. Maybe I'll drop out. I decided I didn't want to fail highschool and finally got out of bed, and dragged myself to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror for a few minutes. I felt like crying. But I held it back, I'm quite good at doing that. I took out my retainers and brushed my teeth. I routinely opened my bottles of medication, letting out a big, dramatic, sigh. Fuck epilepsy, this is my daily mantra. I silently prayed to the definitely real neurology gods, that I wouldn't have a seizure today. Not that it really matters what I want. I have about 2-4 a week at minimum, so I guess my efforts are going unnoticed. As my neurologists would say, "It's out of my control." I repeated this to myself under my breath. I filled up a small cup with water, shoved the pills down my throat and drank. I have been swallowing pills ever since I was diagnosed, roughly fourteen years ago, and it's still hard to not throw up. Tastes like cow shit. And if you are thinking to yourself, 'How do you know what cow shit tastes like?' Shut the fuck up. I put my retainers back in, walked back into my bedroom, and changed into my boring, tight school uniform.
"Kids!" I heard my mom yell, "Breakfast!" My mom is an amazing cook. I don't know how she has the time to make us breakfast almost every morning. I opened the door to my room, and stopped. I just started staring. Everything got fuzzy, and I heard a ringing.After a moment, everything cleared, and I remembered why I am where I am. This happens a lot so I'm not too startled by it. I looked at the gold shiny label my mom had made, my name in fancy cursive letters;
Levi

"Levi?" my mom startled me from behind, "Are you alright?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I replied.

"Are you sure?" she replied, worried.

"Yeah, I told you I'm fine," I said. God, she worries too much. It gets to be a lot. I feel kinda guilty for the abundance of stress I cause her, like a burden. But she constantly reminds me that I'm not. It is still undecided whether or not I believe her.

"Okay, okay, come eat," she replied putting her hands up, as I followed her to the kitchen.

     Two of my siblings were at the table, Jamie, and Bella. Bella is a girl with tons of energy and a huge imagination, but that's kinda what you expect from a 4 year old. My other sister Ariana... I like to think of her as emo, it's kind of a joke but she does act like it sometimes. She always wears baggy clothes (always asking my mom to buy her a large school uniform, but my mom still doesn't buy that big of a uniform for her, I mean, besides her height she's quite small), and doesn't give a crap about anything. I should be concerned about her, but I was kind of like her at her age. I just want her to be herself. She's thirteen years old..
If I were to describe Jamie the first word I would use is unsure. He was diagnosed with both Social Anxiety, and OCD, and he is only 11, but he has been managing better than I have ever managed my epilepsy. Then again grand mal seizures are a lot different than panic attacks. Either way, he does alright.
He's also very accident prone, so bandages and gauze are a necessity in our house. He has fractured his arm, his elbow, his wrist, and his ankle. It's a good thing he hates sports. He used to be in karate, for like 2 weeks, but my mom decided that was the last thing he needed. He looks very different from the rest of the family, my mom and Bella have dirty blonde hair and me and my sister have dark brown hair. I mean he looks like mom but all of his colors are from his dad, Mark. Jamie has auburn hair and hazel eyes. Him and Bella are extremely pale, because Mark is like a ghost. While me and Ariana are light tan, because our dad, Oliver, was mixed, (mexican and partially egyptian)