I think the smell is starting to affect my breathing. The noxious, rotting smell is really affecting my breathing. No seriously, I can already feel my chest rising and falling heavily with my chest starting to fill up like a balloon with the nasty smell. The gooey, mystery concoction is also starting to get to me, and I keep asking myself, WHY ME? This is going to take forever to clean up. The walls are coated in about, I don't know, 5 LAYERS of the mystery concoction. The farthest wall from our petite kitchen was splattered in 10 different places and sizes with the mystery concoction. The two walls opposite, were covered in even more mystery concoction (now you see why it smells so badly). There is paper towels strewn all over our antique couches and loveseats that is now stained a dirty charcoal/sepia color. I mean, I don't even know what made it like this!
Why should I clean this up?
Why are my two imbecile brothers innocent in this whole mess?
Why don't I have a sister?
Why do my parents make me do everything?
Why do I get blamed for things my brothers do?
WHY, WHY, WHY?
That's a word that keeps popping up in my mind. It comes up a lot. It would pop up in your mind a lot too if you're the only girl in your family (other than your mom) that gets blamed for things your stupid brothers do, and you would not believe the kinds of things my brothers do. I'm not gonna even go there- that's another story.
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"Your welcome, because I just know that you LOVE cleaning up the "Mystery Concoction." My older, and not at all role model (for me), brother is towering over me while I'm attempting to finish my homework. "You know, that name is pretty funny. Did you name it that because you aren't smart enough to figure out what it really was? Sorry Cas. You know I just can't resist! Mom and dad told me. I know you didn't do it. Owen did, and I helped him make it. I know you're prob-"
"Woah, woah, whoa. Hold up! You helped him make it!? Why in the heck would you help a two-year-old make a gooey mess that looks like crap!? You're delusional, you know that? You really are!" I was getting really mad now. Actually no. I'm not mad. I'm raging. Why would someone do something like that? Right at that moment, Owen flaunts into my room as if he knows the two of us have been talking about the incident and that he stays the innocent, sweet, little angel in this whole tangle. "Mommy want you twee, er no. You two." Now what? I've got a bad feeling.
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What Happens Now?
General Fiction13-year-old Cassie Walsh has never felt at home, more than ever now that her overachiever, older brother has outdone himself with the awards. Her drooling baby brother doesn't help either. Casey feels her world is falling apart slowly and feels that...
