Paths We Choose

Chapter 1

Ever have one of those days where everything seems to go wrong?  like nothing will ever go your way again?  Well, that's my life, all the time. Then, every once in a while, the series of bad luck days will be broken by one good luck day, only to be followed by a dozen or so more bad days. You get used to it.  I mean, it's not like I try to bring the bad luck on myself, it just kind of happens that way.    

Then there's my brother.  Nothing ever seems to go wrong for him.  He's one of those fairytale guys that gets all the girls, the treasure, and a little fame.  Me, I'm the ugly step sister, or, in this case, just sister.  We were both blessed with the same type of face, same body types, but different hair.  My hair is bright red, while his is a brown blonde combo that all of the girls at our school go crazy for.  It's sickening; well, not to him, but no one asked him.    

So, today started off like one of my typical bad luck days.  Get up, brush my teeth, almost miss the bus while waiting for my burnt toast to pop up, and then suffering through a lousy day of school.  In English class, kids made fun of my shyness, in Math kids pulled my hair, in PE kids laughed because I kept tripping and ended up finishing in last place during our sprint, and in science no one volunteered to be my lab partner; not even my brother.  We're twins, but we act like we barely know each other; which is partly due to the fact that we pretty much don't know each other.  Then, the twist came; the one twist that separated today from the rest of my days.    

"Darby, would you care to answer my question, or should a classmate help you?"  

I looked up from my doodles to see the Art Teacher staring at me, as well as the rest of the class.  I nearly choked on my saliva as I closed my notebook and turned to face the front.  

"Um," I managed after sucking in a deep breath, "Well, I..." I muttered.  

"Class, can anyone help Darby anser my question?" The teacher asked, clearly annoyed.  If she knew I couldn't answer the question, than why even call on me in the first place?  To embarrass me.

"Ah, Melinda, thank you!" Mrs. Petowski exclaimed, picking on the smartest, snobbiest, most popular girl in class.  She's also the nicest, which makes it worse.    

"Well, first you want to take the contrasting colors, which in this case are blue and red, and then you..."  

I tuned her out as I returned to my doodles.  Hey, at least I'm doing art in art class.  And science, and math, and history, and English.  Mrs. Petowski should be very proud of me; I would be if I were her.  In fact, I might even reward me for being such an excellent art student; one of her most promising I'm sure.  

"Darby, did you catch that?" Mrs. Petowski asked, glaring at me.  

"Sure did," I responded coolly.    

Later, as I was leaving art class, Mrs. Petowski called me over to her desk. I slowly walked over, knowing what was coming next.  It had happened before, it would happen again.    

"Ms. Waterson, how many times must I ask you to please pay attention in class?" I shrugged. "Well, I'm tired of having to talk to you about this, and I'm sure your other teachers feel the same way.  So," she began, reaching her hand out, "Please give me your notbook.  You may have it back tomorrw." I reluctantly handed over my prized possession and watched it slam to the bottom of Mrs. Petowski's metal drawer. "Now run along.
Maybe now you'll actually learn something in one of your other classes without your notebook to look after," And with a smile and a whoosh of a desk drawer closing, I was shooed away.    

Now, you're probably like 'when're you gonna get to the good stuff; the event that changed your life, or day, or whatever.' I'm getting there, but with all greatly epic stories, you must be patient.