What I Do Not Understand

1. Parents

When I was little, pretty much all I cared about was playing; who I played with, what I played with, who was watching me play. At that age, that was what mattered.

My parents didn't really care how I dressed, so neither did I. They didn't care much about my friends or how I looked, so neither did I.

That all changed when I was about eleven.

Eleven was when I was no longer allowed to wear what I wanted. I had to wear shirts that had sleeves, pants that went below the knees, and absolutely no showing of the collarbone or stomach was approved.

Eleven was when I couldn't hang out with boys. If a boy was present in a social hang out spot, my parents needed to know everything about him before it was okay to just talk to him, let alone go places with him.

Eleven was when my looks mattered. My hair couldn't be tangled, my clothes had to fit perfectly, even socks were important and always had to match.

Some days, I wondered why it all changed and decided to push the limits that were imposed on me at eleven.

Today was one of those days.

"Octavia Violet Holman! I will not let you dress like that in my house!" shouted my father who was well near five feet from me and knew he didn't have to scream. "Go to your room and change out of that thing, now!"

I looked down at my muscle tee and shorts with a sigh. It's not like I was even going anywhere. Nobody but my family was going to see me and I'm pretty sure they've seen the other parts of me before.

It was so unfair. My brother got to do almost anything he wanted to do. For example, at this very moment, he came downstairs in only his painfully thin boxers. I waited a moment for him to get in my father's eyesight to see what he would do. Even though I already knew what was going to happen, it still made me mad that he did nothing.

It had always been like this. When my brother and I were in seventh grade, we were invited to a co-ed swim party. He was allowed to go, but I could only go if I wore a tee shirt and leggings while I swam. The party was actually fun, from what I could see from my friend's snapchat story.

I got to my room and nearly slammed the door from frustration. I would've done it too if not for the biggest rule in the Holman house: never slam the doors.

I sank into my bed and didn't take off my clothing. It was kind of my own little rebellion, I decided in my head. As long as my father wasn't in my room I would do what I want.

I got on my phone and texted my best friend, Talia, about what just went down. She didn't respond. Probably because she was doing homework or applications or something that all motivated people did on the weekend.

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Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep.

Whoever made alarm clocks deserves to be killed. If they're already dead, they deserve to be revived, punched in the face, and killed again.

I shut off my alarm clock just in time for my mom to yell at me to get up before she beats me with her bare hands.

Groaning, I get up out of my bed and onto the cold tiles. I wince at the temperature of the floor and hop to my bathroom.

Time to be presentable! That was what my mother called the morning. Every day, she gets up, takes a shower, blow dries her hair, does her makeup, and still had time to make breakfast.

I'm still not sure she's human.

I twist my wavy hair into a thing that resembles a braid and go into my closet. I pick out a navy blue shirt with quarter sleeves to keep my dad happy and clean, black pants for my mom. My makeup from last night is still (kind of) intact, so I leave it on and go downstairs.

Today's breakfast is pancakes, something I absolutely despise. Unless their burnt or stale, they have no crunch to them and the texture is gooey and gross. The last time my parents made me eat them, the toilet got more of it then my stomach did.

Before they can force pancakes down my throat again, I grab my keys and mumble something about going to tutoring. I'm barely pulling out of the driveway before Connor comes barreling out of the house.

"Wait! You forgot me!" he wails as he runs.

I roll my eyes and shout,"I didn't forget you. I just didn't want to drive you." He pouts but gets in the car anyways.

"Why are you leaving so early anyways, sis? You actually want to get to school today?"

"No. I just wanted to get food I could actually enjoy, doofus. I didn't even know you were home.  I thought you were with one of your girlfriends." Also unfair, Connor could date while I had to wait until I was in college or I would be on the streets.

He smirks. "Last night I was quite busy with Samantha, but she's not enough fun to spend a night with," Connor says with about enough ego to make a nuclear weapon out of.

I shake my head, disgusted. Sam used to be a close friend until she became a skank and only hung out with me for my brother. Talia would never do that. One, because she hates it as much as I do and two, because she is totally gay.

After a quick breakfast of bagels from a bakery owned by another one of Connor's girlfriend's dad (small towns are truly horrible,) we end up in my least and Connor's favorite place: school.

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Hey guys it's the author. I tried to edit it as much as I could but if I forgot something please tell me. (This note not was not edited and won't be)

If anybody has stuff they don't understand message me about it and I might put it in the story.

Thanks for reading!
Jenin