Addicted

TAUNTING

My morning routine is the same as every boy. Except I make breakfast for my mother and sister after I wake them up. I'm the man of half the house. The other half belongs to Melanie.

My mom always has put her children first. Anyways, today's morning didn't feel like a morning. It felt like I was still in a dream. Mom woke up before Melanie and me with breakfast on the table and a smile on her face.

"Good morning children! Isn't today a fine morning?" She practically screams for joy.

"It sure is an odd morning," I mumble.

"I think it's a good morning," Melanie innocently states.

"Well, today I thought to make you two breakfast after all we've been through," She replies with her eyes reliving the small pain of the past. It's our dad's birthday. Also, the day when our dad died. Quite painful to remember, quite easy to remember.

"Thank you. For the slightly burnt pancake. And for remembering," I thanked. She deserves more than a thank you and Melanie's focus towards her meal today. She likes it. Although, she put a mountain of syrup to make up for the texture and taste. It's actually good for someone who hasn't cooked in a while. I grab my backpack and walk Melanie all the way to her bus after kissing mom goodbye.

I walk to school and sometimes after school I take the bus or walk home, depending on how tired I am. Walking to school in the morning always prepared me for the sensible smoke from the cigarettes my friends would offer me, just by giving me air fresh from mother nature.

As it enters my mouth, I puckered my lips and let the smell of cancer run through my nose. Cigarettes wake me up like coffee and tea wakes up the rest of the world. I walk into the school and go to my locker. This hallway is always filled and infused.

"Hey, over here!" My friend yells as he waves his arm. I walk over. "Did you see the game last night? Oh wait, you didn't. You hate watching games," My friend, David says. I roll my eyes.

"I was actually at church, praying for you. Yeah, I thought you might need it," I joke. He chuckles while putting his books into his locker. I walk over to my locker which isn't far from David's and do the same. The bell rings. We walk to class.

"Okay, class. Today we're going to learn about DNA. Your father and your mother, they formed you physically into who you are today," Mr. Tucker announces. The one day I'm feeling a little more sentimental about my family, we have a lesson about it. "For example, your father gave you your blue eyes and your mother gave you your blonde hair," He taunts.

"Science and your parents work together to make something beautiful. To make you. A gene is a unit of heredity that's transferred from a parent to offspring and is held to determine some characteristic of the offspring," He continues. I can see Mr. Tucker stare at me for a minute. Please don't call on me. Please don't call on me. Please don't call on me.

"Mr. Adams, what genes did your parents give you?" He asks, checking if I paid attention. I feel every piece of skin boil, turning me red.

"Um," I respond. It was the only thing I could say. Then I ran. I ran to the boy's bathroom. It was the only thing I could do.

I don't have my mother's or my father's eyes. I don't have my mother's or my father's hair. My eyes are brown while their eyes are blue. My hair is brown and curly while their hair is straight. Meanwhile, Melanie is the perfect example of our parents. My eyes now match how my cheeks feel and I can feel hot tears trying to escape. When I kissed the top of my mom's head this morning, her hair wasn't the color of my hair.

"Mr. Adams," I hear that taunting again.

"How did you know I was here?" I say, trying to change the subject.

"This is where most people come to let things out," He says. "Why did you run off?" I stay silent. "Mr. Adams, please give me a quick explanation. I can't let Ms. Seeds take care of the class forever."

"I don't have any genes from my parents and they're such good people. My dad died a long time ago. He was saving people from a fire. When he pushed the last person out of the building, he became the last person in the building and he burned away. It's now such a long time. Too long. It's his birthday today. It's also the day he died. That building that burned? It was the place my mom wanted to get him his birthday cake. Since he's gone, I have no way of remembering him, not even in the eyes he's supposed to give me. And my mom? She's been so strong, coping with his death and being a single mother. When she fades away, I won't have anything to remember her by but only memories that could possibly fade in my mind too," I rant. I let it out. I explode.

"I'm sorry for bullying you. I didn't know. I'll take this lesson a bit more gentle for you," He says.

"It was more like taunting," I respond. He chuckles. He lets me stay in the bathroom until the bell rings. Just enough time for one more tear to taunt me.