~Still Worth Fighting For~ #wattys2018

Excuses

I should probably give up caffeine. I can't expect to keep my grades decent enough for my mom to get off my ass and believe I'm okay if I'm not sleeping at night. She can tell when I haven't slept, no matter how much makeup I put on my damn face.

"Ridley, you stayed up all night, didn't you?" My mom was in the kitchen, filling up what I guess was her water cup with god only knows how much ice. I rubbed my eyes, pretending I had slept.

"What are you talking about?"

"You didn't wake up with neat hair. You'd have a bedhead. What'd I tell you about pulling all-nighters, Ridley? It screws with your moods."

"You act like my moods have an effect on you." I rolled my eyes, walking around her to get to the poptarts in the cabinet, but struggling (per usual) because I'm five-foot six. My mom pulled the box down for me. "You don't see me until maybe five, and by then I'm already in my room doing something. So how would you know?"

"I'm your mom, Ridley, and I know when you walk in the room what kind of mood you're in."

I groaned, opening my poptarts and setting them down. "Mom, don't worry about me. I'll be fine." When she walked back towards her room, I went to the coffee pot and heated up a cup's worth. Poptarts don't taste the greatest with coffee, but it looks like they're all I've got for breakfast. And I know I'll get bitched at if my friends find out I didn't eat. They always do somehow. I can't blame them for worrying, for lack of a better word, but I don't listen most of the time. I just pretend I eat and if they don't believe me, I'll nibble on whatever food I have. Poptarts are the one exception to my 'I don't eat,' rule. And they're still limited. You probably won't see me eat them much, if you do at all.

I sat down at the kitchen table and just sort of stared at the blueberry pastry in front of me. "Hello, calories.. Time to fuck up my body..."

Katie walked upstairs, rubbing her eyes. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

I broke a piece off of one of the poptarts, putting it in my mouth. "Not really."

"Jesus, I have no idea how you're living." She went to the fridge, pouring a glass of milk. She looked at the cup of coffee in front of me and stopped. "Well, I mean that makes sense."

"Don't say anything to mom, okay? She's already sort of pissed that I didn't sleep, she'd be furious if she knew I'm relying on shitty coffee to keep my eyes open."

Katie nodded, sitting down across from me with a poptart of her own; cinnamon. My least favorite. Is she trying to fight? ;-; "Don't you have a math test or something today, too?"

Yeah, thanks, Katie, cause I totally wanted to remember that. Sleep might have been useful, I suppose. Not that I'm any good at math. That class always fucks me over. I somewhat understand it during the lessons, but when it comes to tests... My brain freezes. I'm not sure if you would call that test anxiety, because it only happens in math. I'm great with english, okay at science. I do well in history. Math can kiss my ass. I'm surprised I'm passing. I'm glad I am, though. I just wish I could do better.

"Yeah, I guess so. I forgot." I murmured. "And I'm screwed, too, because math hates me."

"Aw, come on." She bit into her poptart, which she held like it was pizza, driving me off the wall. I never understood why people do that. "I'm sure you'd do well if you studied."

"It doesn't matter how much I study. I suck at math. Well, not really. Just at the tests."

"So why don't you just look at it like it's an assignment and not a test?" She asked.