Pencils

Bookworm and...

   So this is my life now, huh? Being yelled at from the ground level while I'm on the second floor of my house. In my comfy bed. I started to yell back, but really, what would be the point. Riley wouldn't be deterred, I knew that much after only two days of knowing her. I had been a good 14 years now.

   I slithered out of bed, not unlike a snake shedding its irritating old skin, and hollered out of the window of my room. To paraphrase: Get off my lawn, you crazy hippie. And take your vibes and drugs with you. I was kidding, of course.

   Slipping from the death grip of my pajamas, I made a mental note to get a size bigger PJs and work out more. I looked at my alarm clock, which was in the shape of the sun with a smile. The smile was a bit much, I admit, but nonetheless I kept it. It was a gift. Forgetting to check the time entirely, I waltzed to the bathroom and began my morning routine. I brushed my teeth while dancing to pop music, I flossed while dancing to pop music, and then I wash my face while dancing to pop music.

   After that, I went to change my shirt, because I got toothpaste and water all over my shirt while dancing to pop music. Aw...

   The banging on the door finally threatened to wake my father, which would have meant one of his famous 'I'm tired and am going to punish you unreasonably and never apologize' punishments. I once got grounded from everything, including breathing, for a whole minute because I stepped on our cat, Yammers, in the A.M.

   I set a purposefully slow pace towards the front door. If Riley wanted to be a jerk, I was going to be an annoyance. I love being an annoyance, especially to Riley.

   As I opened the door, I was greeted by a snarky, but loving, "Took you long enough" as a brown haired, blue eyed girl sprinted in like she owned the place. That would be Riley. I dutifully shut the door quietly, but it was pointless now. Riley was going to make three times the noise of a bulldozer and there was nothing I could do about it.

   While the admittedly pretty girl began mooching pancake batter from the cupboard, I tiptoed back upstairs to do last minute adjustments to my outfit, hair, and just general 'put-togetherness'. Reminding myself I needed to check the time as well, I walked into the room to find my clock.

   "6:15," I said out loud instinctively. Then I caught a peek at my hair in the mirror. It was a shiny brown. My eyes, which were green, were the next to be inspected. My teeth checked out and my body looked fine as well. I internally laughed as I thought what Riley would say: "Don't say you look 'fine', say you look 'fine!'

   I remember when she used to have a crush on me, and I on her. That shipped sailed, however, when we decided that sleepovers with cuddling were just generally more fun than sleepovers with sex. Way too much sweating, if you ask us. Plus, wingmen of the opposite gender are better. It's just a proven fact.

   I was shaken from my nostalgia when I heard a shout of "Hey loser, get your hot butt in here or I'm going to eat all of these pancakes. I'll barf 'cause I'm full, you'll puke 'cause your empty, it'll just be crap!". I laughed and went to walk to the kitchen, before remembering yet another thing that I needed.

   Reaching as far as was humanly possible for someone who never stretches properly, I grabbed the important item off of my desk.

   A pack of pencils.