Your Not So Average Nerd

Chapter 1.

"VIRGINIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" My terrors of older brothers were screaming in my ear. This is how my mother decides to wake me up every day. "GINNYYYY GUESS WHAT TODAY IS"

"If you call me Virginia again, you will die," I say as I smash my face into my pillow. I swear beds get so much more comfortable in the morning.

"Now Now..."

"That's no way to treat your loving..."

"And caring brothers. Is it?"

Will and Chris. They couldn't be more alike if they tried. With my face shoved into the pillow, I cannot tell the difference between their voices. They're those guys that every girl wants. You know, the surfer type of guys with the flippy sandy blonde hair whom are incredible sweet and caring and have the attitude that goes along with their muscles. The only difference is the red mops on top of their heads instead of the sandy blonde hair. It sucks being their younger, nerdy sister. I have never lived up to that cool kid standard that all students and teachers expect when they hear the name O'Connell. Seriously, I should petition for a new family.

"Chris, it looks like someone forgot their own birthday."

"You know Will, I don't think many other people would forget their sixteenth birthday."

I sat up straight giving them both death stares. There is not one person in the state of California who is unaware of how much I hate my birthday. "If either of you are planning anything for school, then you're both dead. And it's a well-known fact that I can kick both of your asses."

"Awwwww! Gin would you really want to kill your two only brothers?" Will says while making such a pathetic looking face. I just sit and scowl at them. They know I only answer to Ginny.

Virginia is a state and Gin is a type of alcohol.

Our little morkie dog with her rhinestone collar saunters through the room as the three of us are arguing. The dog is a little princess if you ask me. Only designer things for my high class lawyer of a mother and that includes dogs. Who else would pay $2,000 for a dog?

My mother is the only one who would want to go to a breeder three states away just to make sure it's a pure morkie, and it isn't even a pure breed dog. It's a mutt, a mix of a yorkie and a maltese. It's cute, but you can get one at the pound or pet store instead of hours away.

Chris whisks the dog up and puts her in front of his face, "You can't kill me with Molly here. Mom would kill you."

I kick them all out of my annoyingly bright pink room, which my mother had designed especially for her only daughter. I guess she got confused who she was designing this room for when she picked out the paint. I prefer less obnoxious colors.

With the fifteen minutes my boys left me to get ready for the school day, I started to dig through my pile of about 50 t-shirts looking for my favorite plain blue, V-neck t-shirt to pair with my tight dark blue skinny jeans and gray high tops. My daily attire was never complete without the batman bracelet that I have worn every day since my first day of high school. I like to think of it as a good luck charm.

It hasn't been doing a very good job of bringing me luck so far.

I head downstairs after I've changed to see my mother in her classy suit throwing a few boxes of cereal on the table, kissing my brothers goodbye, and wishing me a happy birthday. She's never around for more than two hours a day. She's what most people would consider a work-a-holic. She's a lawyer, and takes her job more seriously than any famous football player in this country.

Once she's gone my brothers always turn the music up so loudly that the house and our neighbors' houses being to shake. It's really lovely having two 18 year old brothers. They're not twins, but they're about 11 months apart, better known as "irish twins." I guess it works out well considering we all have bright red hair and our last name, O'Connell, is about as Irish as you can get.