Seven

2

It's not unusual for me to wake up at an unreasonable hour every day. Typically, I wake up before my mom. When she's asleep, my world is normal for a little while. I'm not a girl who takes care of her mother and brother—I'm a simple girl with no responsibilities at dawn.

Today, I woke up before sunrise. I lay there, staring at the wall, waiting for the sun to reflect against my window. Once it did, I headed to the kitchen to make toast and orange juice. It's simple, but it's something.

"Good morning," Alex says, walking into the kitchen. He's barely awake and his hair is a mess. He takes a seat at the kitchen table.

"Good morning," I reply, setting a plate in front of him.

"Is she awake?" he whispers, making sure she doesn't hear. Then, he takes a cigarette out of the pack on the table.

"No," I turn my head. "Anything interesting today?"

"Math test," he answers with his mouth full.

"Good luck," I roll my eyes.

"Thank you," he replies, standing up to put his dish in the sink. Which is still a disservice to me, as I have to wash them. So I do.

I place Mom's dish on her bedside table. She is still asleep, the curtains are drawn, and the TV show she fell asleep to is still playing in the background. I close her door behind me, trying my best not to jam it. Last time, it woke her up and she was pissed. I never heard the end of it.

"You coming?" I knock on Alex's door after grabbing my backpack from my room.

"Just a minute," he says. He won't be a minute, so I sit down on the couch and wait.

Mom doesn't have any doctor's appointments this week, not that she'd even let me take her. I have nothing on my agenda besides the basic day-to-day care. And, of course, there's laundry—

"I'm ready," Alex says, standing in front of me. He's wearing the Nike sweatpants I got from the flea market and a shirt I got on sale at Old Navy. You'd never be able to tell it was cheap to look that expensive.

"Let's go," I say, walking out the door and heading to the car that once was my mother's. She made us turn the car on every two weeks and run it for ten minutes to make sure it never went out of service. And after thousands in repairs, the car still runs. It does its job.

Alex sits in my passenger seat as we listen to two middle-aged radio hosts make corny jokes about Elon Musk. I look at the clock and it's 7:37, which I take as a good sign. Despite my necklace, my favorite number is actually three. My dad's favorite number is seven, and I see it as a sign that he is all around me.

I know I should hate my father, but I never quite can. He left me to do his and my mother's work. His nine-year-old daughter. But if he were here, I wouldn't yell. I wouldn't scream. I would run into his arms like I did before.

School is never interesting. I believe that I know what I need to know, but I listen anyway. One AirPod in and one out. Today, I'm listening to The Smashing Pumpkins. I always knew of them, but I never really listened to them until now. I like them so far.

One thing that is strange about my school is that all rehearsals take place during school hours. This includes sports practice. Sometimes, the gym classes will observe and sometimes we will go outside instead (or inside if it's football season).

Basketball season just started a month ago and today is the first time we will be observing the practice. It's a scrimmage. I'll only get to watch half of it, but it's fine because I don't fully understand how basketball works.

I watch as the boys run out onto the court. None of them would ever even give me a second glance. And I don't mean that in a self-pity way. The universe will send the right person to me. That person probably won't be in our town in the middle of nowhere. Besides, the boys here are such tools. The girls are no better.

I look at all of their jerseys—more specifically the numbers on them. The jerseys were blue with white and gold letters. Alex said he thought they looked trashy. My eyes dart around as most numbers are double digits, but I finally find seven. He is tall with medium-length brown hair. I can't see his face too well—and I definitely don't know his name.

I must've been full-on staring at him because when his eyes meet mine from across the court, he shoots a smile at me. I can't tell if it's an awkward smile or a genuine one, but I just take it for what it is.

I try to figure out what his name is, but I can't remember for the life of me.

The rest of the day goes by normally. No one speaks to me, but that's okay. No one normally does and I am perfectly fine with that. I have never needed anyone but myself.

It wasn't always like that though. I had a best friend, Hailey. She moved away a few years after my mom's accident, but she understood my pain. She'd help me take care of my mom and brother. She was the best friend I could ever ask for but I have no way of contacting her. I miss her every day. There is no point in making friends; they will never be as good as her.

Besides, I don't have time. When I'm not taking care of my mom, I'm doing homework or doing chores.

Though my day-to-day tasks are simple, my life isn't. It took so much chaos to become this calm. More than anything, I want a simple life. I want to be a normal teenager.

I want to make it clear that I am not complaining about the cards I've been dealt. I love my mother and my brother. I loved my father and I know that wherever he is—he loves me too.

I wonder if he's wishing his life was simpler.