Carry Me Home

Chapter 18

I woke up to the sound of my obnoxious brother knocking – no, pounding on my door. “DIANNA, GET UP!!”

“Don’t Ruin My DOOR!!!” I shouted back.

“Just get your ass dressed and come down stairs,” he stopped hitting my door, “maybe you can have some breakfast before we leave.”

“Who cares about breakfast?” I retorted as I heard him walk away. “Why do I have to get up anyway?” I yelled to him.

“You’ll see.”

Whatever, I shrugged as turned to my closet. Skinny jeans, knee length boots, a blue blouse and a black ‘I heart SF’ sweatshirt; my classic wardrobe. I sighed to myself as I put chapstick on my chapped lips thinking about how horrible it would be to cake my face with makeup everyday. I have to admit, I had the smallest of urges –no curiosities– to see what I would look like with make up on. But that was too small to be recognized, so I moved on with my life.

I came down the stairs with a loud bang as I jumped over the last two steps. I ignored my mother’s disapproving glance. “So why’d I have to get up?” I asked to no one in particular as I sat down at the counter.

“Your grandma wants us all to do something together this morning.”

I snorted distastefully, “Like what?”

“Well, I’m not sure. She was waiting for you to come down stairs to tell us.” Typical, I thought. It was just like Grandmother to come over and tell us all just how to spend our time; I should have expected it.

“So grandmother, what’re we doing?” I turned to her.

“We are cleaning the house,” she said as she got up from her chair at the kitchen counter.

“What?!” my brother and my’s voices asked unanimously incredulous.

“It’s messy in here, and I won’t be able to stand it until it’s clean. I’ve already made charts of who is going to be doing what rooms and whether you are sharing your job with someone.”

She went around the room handing my mom, Jacob, and me pieces of paper. Then she walked over to Alex and gave him one. Of course she wouldn’t leave him out. I looked down at my paper and immediately complained, “Awe, seriously, do I have to clean Tasha’s room? That thing looks like a dog house.”

“Are you kidding me,” Jacob looked at me, “It’s like a pigpen! A doghouse doesn’t have any stuff in it.”

“True,” I agreed. Damb, I agreed with Jacob twice in one day? What has my life become?

“But seriously, I have the hall bathroom.”

          “Ha,” I laughed at him, “sucks for you.

He frowned. “Alright you two,” my Grandmother said, “get to work.”

I looked down at my list again, it read:

Dianna’s Bedroom, Tasha’s Bedroom, Kitchen

I decided to start with the kitchen; seeing as that would be the easiest. As people started to disperse to their separate corners of the house I started with the kitchen. Right before Grandma left she turned back to me, “Oh, and two more things Dianna. One; do not forget to unload the dishwasher and wash the dirty dishes from today’s breakfast.”

I sighed, “I know.”

“And two; You are not to use your powers while you are cleaning up, you hear?”

I sighed again, “Yes grandma.”

After she left the room I opened the dishwasher.

When I had scrubbed, dusted, brushed, mopped, and ordered every part of the kitchen physically possible I moved on to Tasha’s room. I didn’t even bother going to Grandma and asking if I had done a good job; I had already checked with her three times. Every time she seemed to find something wrong with what I was doing saying something like “you missed a spot” or “That doesn’t look pretty enough” (she didn’t literally say that, obviously). Eventually I figured I could never do it well enough to please her and walked upstairs to my sister’s room.

** MY HOUSE**

MY house has two stories. When you walk in there are stairs in front of you and a door to your left that leads to the kitchen. On your right is a door arch that acts as an entrance to the living room. The stairs are attached to the left wall. Between the stairs and the right wall is a small hallway that had three doors on it. One is my mom’s bedroom, one is her office, and the last one is the laundry room.

Upstairs is the bedroom for my siblings and I. On the right are the doors for Mark’s room and my room. On the left is Tasha’s room and Jacob’s room. Mark’s room used to be an office but once he was born it became his room and the office went down to my parent’s bedroom. At the end of the hallway is a bathroom that Mark, Jacob, and Tasha share. I’m really lucky ‘cause I have my own bathroom. However, I have the second smallest room (which is saying something). Tasha’s room is the biggest (surprise, surprise) and she has the biggest closet of the four of us (no way, really?). Anyway, yeah.

Also, you might think from all of the rooms in my house that there is a lot of ‘room’, but there isn’t. I mean our house is pretty average, but it’s al little on the smaller side, know what I mean? And every room is really small, except for my mom’s bedroom and the living room. But I’m rambling

When I opened the door I gasped. “What?” Jacob asked from his room.

“I new Tasha’s room was messy but I didn’t know it was that messy. Honestly, I think the only piece of furniture I can detect is her dresser and maybe a corner or her bed.”

I heard Jacob do something that resembled a choking laugh. “Are you okay, it sound’s like you’re dieing in there.”

“Was that concern?”

“Hardly.”

Okay, I thought to myself, I’ll start by putting all of her cloths in the laundry basket…if it will fit. Then, I will get her sheets and throw that in the laundry. After that I’ll fold all the cloths in her dresser and fold them, organizing them however I want. Then I’ll hang up the cloths in her closet.

I set to work on my plan, The cloths didn’t fit in her bin, so I had to use mine as well. While I was taking out her sheets I found even more cloths, ugh. I folded her cloths and put them back in the draws the way most girls do: underwear, socks, bras, and socks at the top; shirts in the next drawer; pants and shorts in the one after that; in the bottom drawer was her ‘small’ selection of pajama’s, sweats, scarves, and gloves. There were so many cloths on the bottom of her closet that I had to them out before I could separate them out on her floor before I could tell one from another.

But, considering that Tasha’s interests didn’t vary very far from her image, her cloths were half of the work. So with that out of the way, I just vacuumed the floor, cleaned her tabletops, and rearranged her trinkets.

“Dianna!” My mom called from downstairs.

“Yes?” I yelled back.

“Come and get Tasha’s sheets!”

“Coming!” I got Tasha’s sheets and put them back on her bed. “Wow, I said to myself, you did a good job.” I was all done: a made bed, a clean rug, clear table surfaces, It looked like a room now; not a pigpen.

Now onto my room. But before I could get started on that my mom called me down for lunch. We had grilled cheese and carrots. Wow, lot’s of orange. I drank that down with a glass of milk and I was ready to do my room. However, I will spare you the details. But by the time my room was basically, well, my room, except for super neat. When I told my grandmother I was done she said I done an okay job. I took that as a sign that I could leave my house.

I grabbed my black leather jacket as I ran out the door, taking my bicycle I rode to Dyno’s house