Tick tick tick tick...
It's like the clock was mocking me. Every passing second was another moment wasted with me standing half naked in front of my open closet.
My wardrobe wasn't the largest and I didn't want to be accused of wearing yet the 'same disastrous outfit I had on the week before.'
The words of a snarky ninth grader, I swear.
"Peyton!" I hear my mom shout from downstairs.
"I'll be down in a minute!"
"You don't want to start this week off with a late notice!"
She's right. Not the right way to start your Monday morning.
With a shrug, I decide to throw on a pair of jean shorts and a plain pink tank top. Once again, my wardrobe wasn't the largest or the best but this was my go-to outfit.
Then I apply lip gloss and a little mascara. I never go all out on makeup.
With one last look in my full length mirror, and one last glare at my clock that's still ticking the time away, I grab my back pack and head out my room.
"Good morning mom," I say while entering the kitchen.
She gives me a sweet smile and continues to crack eggs for breakfast.
I take a minute to admire the woman standing in front of me.
People say I'm like a mini version of my mom. And they couldn't have been more accurate.
My long blonde hair falls to my mid back, similar to hers but a shade or two lighter. I inherited my hazel eyes from her also. Her physical qualities aren't why I admire her the most though.
Even after everything. The divorce with my dad, our situation with Jacob; she still manages to keep a smile on her face. And it never seems to falter.
"What are you going to eat this morning?" she asks.
"Just toast. Not really hungry."
I go over to the toaster and pop a piece of bread in.
"You know Peyton, a boy called about an hour ago. He said his name was Brandon."
Uh oh. I know where this is going.
"No mother. Brandon and I are just friends. Barely even that. We just worked on a school project together."
Her smile turned into a frown like I just told her the most devastating news.
That's the thing about my mother.
Most parents would be delighted that their teenage daughter had no interest in boys at the moment. Or that every Friday night, she made plans with popcorn and Netflix. But nope. My mom is the complete opposite.
She's more like a friend sometimes. Always pushing me to try new things and become the social butterfly that she was when she was my age.
Don't get me wrong. I have friends. I mean sure. I've only brought one to meet my mom; my best friend, Carmen. But I have others. I prefer to call them acquaintances though. Those people who you hang around with, but at the end of the day would never put your trust in.
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Little Miss NosyTeen Fiction
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