That Which We Discover (bxb)

Enter the.... Fairy!?

It was morning now. Or at least I think it was. It's hard to tell when you don't have a clock. Or clean windows. But considering I woke up, I'm assuming it's morning. Plus, my sleep pattern is pretty good after all these years.

Either way, if my brother were home or awake, he wouldn't have tried to wake me either. Not after the last time, he had tried waking me with a bucket of freezing water. That failure resulted in me needing emergency help after developing hypothermia.

So sure, he sucks as an actual human being. But he does take care of me in the sense that somehow he manages to keep a roof over my head. The way he may get the money might not be all that ethical, or legal, but it still keeps me safe. For the most part.

Deciding that I've been laying on the ground for long enough, too long if you ask my sore back, I slowly drag myself up. I walk over to the side of my room where I have bags and boxes of old clothes that I pulled out of the donation bins. I said my brother kept a roof over my head. That doesn't mean that we have enough money for furniture and new, brand name clothes.

Grabbing a pair of questionable boxers, I quickly remove the pair I'm currently wearing and pull on the ones I grabbed. Next, I move onto the small bag of shirts that aren't stained and threadbare. Pulling out the shirt on the top, I quickly shrug it on after making sure it isn't inside out. Moving towards my box of bottoms, I yet again grab whatever is on top. Upon pulling the jeans up, I'm grateful that they fit relatively well so that I only have to roll the cuffs a few times. The one plus of being me is that I rarely have to worry about not fitting into my clothes.

Seeing as how I was basically dressed, I grabbed a pair of socks from the pile and tugged them on my feet. Then I placed my old, beaten up Chucks on my feet and walked out my door. Walking down the narrow hall, or what you could call a hall anyways, I went straight passed the small kitchenette and straight towards our so-called front door.

Once there, I picked up my tattered school bag and left the vicinity. I just want to get the day over with. And that's only because birthdays are always the most embarrassing day of the year. Whoever says otherwise is mental. Plan and simple.

Running my hand through my purple hair, yes purple, I begin the long trek to my school. Now before anyone goes pointing fingers about how I don't have enough money to dye my hair, I don't. I was born with purple hair. Kind of like those people who were born with purple eyes. The same effect of being hairless and everything.

Of course, nobody knows I was born this way. They just think I'm a freak who wants attention. Which is hardly the case. I'd rather not be noticed at all, but it's not like I have the money to bleach it or dye it. One can wish, though.

But really, enough about my cruddy genetics. I still have a thirty-minute walk ahead of me to get to the school. This is the problem of living in a desolate zone of the town. No buses come this way. Which means everyone (namely, me) has to find another way to get to school. These other ways include hitching a ride, driving your own car, or my option. Walking.

Of course, that just means I can be left alone with my thoughts. Such as now. Explaining what I'm doing to myself. Odd aren't I? Don't answer that. Nobody wants themselves to answer them. That is a sign that you (me?) have a problem.

Walking across the upcoming intersection, I can't help but feel even smaller than usual. So sure, I'm lucky to be able to reach the top shelf in the kitchen, but it would be nice to be a bit taller. Just a couple inches, you know? Then I won't feel like a truck will hit me any moment.

Being five foot six does have quite a few perks though. Swinging your hips just a bit more than usual and pouting your lips will make anyone think you're a girl in today's society. And squealing about selfies and Starbucks coffee will really push you over the edge. No matter how much you feel like white trash while doing so. And don't forget to place a few well versed Taylor Swift references in any dialogue and you'll be just like those girls on Instagram.