Non-Extraordinary

Chapter Two

Tomorrow was the day I had been dreading for three months. The first day of school. 10:00 pm had come quite quickly, so I decided to pick out my outfit that I would be wearing. I chose a white, flowery top with frilly sleeves and a swoop neck. I wanted to keep it simple, so I got out a pair of deep blue jeans and white sandals with tan soles. 10:30 eventually arrived and I was prepared for the next day, so I decided to go to sleep early to have energy in the morning.

Before I plundered into bed, though, I stared out my bedroom window at the starry night sky. There was a full moon that lit brighter than my neighborhood house's porch lights. The crickets were loudly chirping and owls made their traditional "hoo" sound repeatedly.

"This is it," I said to myself. "My last moment of summer." I soaked up the moment, breathed one last, heavy breath, and then crawled into my covers and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, my alarm buzzed so loud, I jumped awake, almost falling out of my bed. I slammed my palm down onto the OFF button to rid my head of the horrible beeping.

You know how in movies, the characters wake up with perfect hair, no dark under-eye circles, and they're full of energy? That is not me. I wake up with hair as frizzy as can be and dark under-eye circles that stretch half way down my face. There's drool falling out of my mouth and I'm usually sideways in my bed with the covers scattered all over the place.

I crawled out of bed and looked in the mirror. My eyebrows were so unbrushed that they made me look like a demon. One side of my hair was the pretty, natural wavy that it always is. The other side puffed up like I had just rubbed a balloon on my head. I attempted to brush it which only created more knots, but it eventually smoothed out.

Once I got dressed, put in my contacts, straightened my hair, and did my makeup, I walked down the stairs for breakfast. "Good morning, Monica!" eagerly shouted my mother. She held a spatula in her right hand and a plate piled high with pancakes in her left. She placed the spatula on our granite counter tops and set the plate on the kitchen table. A giant bottle of syrup sat in the middle of the table, along with place mats, napkins, and silver wear. My mom didn't have a job, so she worked her hardest on everything she did at home. She was constantly cleaning, cooking meals, and taking care of our every need.

I took a seat at the table next to my brother, Jacob. He was going into the sixth grade. We both picked up our knives and forks and began chowing down on pancakes slobbered with butter and syrup.

My mom leaned against the kitchen wall and toothlessly smiled at us. As I shoveled a forkful of pancakes into my mouth, I caught a glance of Mom staring at Jacob and I. "What?" I muffled.

"I'm just so proud of both of you," she answered. I rolled my eyes and continued eating pancakes. Mom is very emotional and is always telling us how much she loves us, or how special we are, or, like today, how proud of us she is.

I heard a sniffle and looked back at her. "Don't you dare cry, Mom," I snarked. "We're going to school, not war." She nodded and tried to suck in her tears. She grabbed a tissue off the counter. They were always sitting there in case Mom got teary eyed, which was quite often.

I read the clock on the microwave which said it was 6:55. I gobbled down my last few bites, grabbed my backpack, and rushed for the back door. "Bye, see you at 2:30!" I tried to get out as fast as possible so Mom wouldn't have time to hug and kiss me and take a picture of me like I'm a preschooler. Luckily, I was quick enough this year and made it to my car and speedily backed out the driveway. I almost wish that I had stayed long enough to get a hug from my mom. I actually really needed it to get through today.