I
Rayna
I got off the school bus with my annoying little ( half ) sister, Cilona. Let me explain just a little.
My name is Rayna Anderson, I am a female 11 year old that lives in a small town in Mid-Eastern Minnesota. Mora, Minnesota. I moved here when Dad, Craig, married my Step-Mother, Tayler when I was 3. Tayler is a nice lady with straight, strawberry-blond hair, and light green eyes. It took a few months to move into town. We lived right by one of the restraunts. Chloe's Cafe in downtown, also next to the movie theater. Not quite a year later, out come my half-sister, Cilona. She had my dad's jet-black hair, my step-mom's light green eyes, and everything else I have no clue about. It's like she wasn't even related to us if she didn't have those two features.
I flew in Pre-school and Kindergarden, and when I made first grade I started to struggle. My teacher had been Mr.Lene, and he had suggested I get tested for dyslexia. So I told my dad and Tayler, and that next week they brought me in. Turns out I was dyslexic, which would explain why I was struggling in school. The numbers would get mixed up, and the words would switch around on the page. My dad didn't have dyslexia, so it must've come from my mother. The one thing that I can't see if it would be true or not, though.
I know nothing about my mother.
Right after I was born my parents split up. Well, my mom died right after I was born. I guess she fought in the army, and one day they called her in before I was even a year old, and the phone rang. My dad answered it, and a man who worked with her told her she was dead. My father never talks about her, and I learned around the time I was 8 to stop asking. He wouldn't tell me if he wanted to. No, I had to treat Tayler like my real Mom. Which isn't really that hard. Most of the time. When ever it reaches that time of year it's my birthday it always bugs me. Always!
I'm still stuck with the dyslexia, which hasn't gotten any better. But now I'm in 6th grade at M.O.Q. Middle School. MOQ means Mora, Ogilvie, Quamba. Those towns are so small they had to combine with Mora. But what I found odd is that I was born September 11, 2001. The day of 9.11. People always tell me I wasn't supposed to be born because I was born on 9.11, but now I tell them to shut up, I'm lucky that I lived since I was in New York City when I was born. In view of the Twin Towers. At least we weren't in them. That would've been really bad.
" Mom! Mom! Mom!" Cilona yelled as we walked in the house. God, she can be really annoying sometimes. Expecially when she does that kind of stuff. She's in 1st grade. I couldn't wait until I was out of the house. I really couldn't wait.
" What is it, Cilona?" Tayler asked Cilona, crouching down so they would be the same height. Cilona was already 4'8".
" I got my first homework!" Cilona said with a lot of exicitement. Really? That's what she's been excited about the full 150 minutes on the bus?
Homework.
Homework.
I just rolled my eyes, took off my tennis shoes, coat, and headed upstairs to my room. Which was a full level. It was supposed to be the attic, but dad just gave it to me. We have a basement, so everything is down there. I'm just glad my sister doesn't stay up here with me. That would be really annoying.
After I closed my door, and sat down on my bed, I took off my backpack, and took out my homework for English II, English I, Science, and one math class. First I decided to do English II.
This is how it looked.
What forw of figuratiue loamgae is "Om!"?
I thought about the possiblilites with my stupid dyslexia. Think, just think. . . . .
What form of figurative language is "Ow!"?
That's easy, it's an interjection.
I got English done in about 45 minutes with my dyslexia acting up, then I pulled out my math.
6.74/794.3= ___
That makes no sense.
We haven't gotten that far in math, and plus, how would that be set up in the first place?
Then it got it.
67.43/79.97.
That's something we know.
The answer would be. . . . .well let's see. . . . if we don't round. . . . holy!
0.84319119669876203576341127922971.
That's a long decimal.
But I finished my homework in another 45 minutes, we had lutefisk, Swedish meatballs, gravy, mashed potatoes, spagetti, and leftse for dinner. It was Swedish dinner! I loved Swedish stuff!
After dinner I was getting ready for bed, getting out my stuff to prepare for tomorrow when Tayler, Cilona, and Dad came up to my room with an angry look.
Did I do something wrong. . . ?
" What did I do?" I asked as they kept getting closer and closer with me. The fury getting more full in their eyes. To be honest, it scared me. I've never seen my parents like this before. Neither of them. And expecially not Cilona. Never.
" To much," Dad told me as they got really close to me, and Dad's hand swung, and got my chest. Well, it was his fist.
The force from the swing sent me back to the wall, practically flying straight in the air, smacking my head on the window glass. Breaking the glass. I felt a liquid slipping down my ear, and I knew it right away by the smell and the feeling of it slowly creapping it's way down my body.
Blood.
The came over my step-mother, Tayler stormed over to me, and stomped on my chest , and it hurt like a bullet entering my chest. Why? Because Tayler likes high heels.
Cilona walked over to me, took a knife, and cut across my face, and I was holding this pain in.
Until she cut me.
I let out the loudest shreak I could. If the neighbors didn't hear, they had to be deaf. Because it was just that loud.
Tayler, Cilona, and my father continoued this for hours and hours until I was majorly bleeding, scared out of my mind, in so much pain, and they passed out.
Once I knew they were knocked out cold, I snuck downstairs, got out the first-aid kit out, bandaged up, and all that, packed a bag good enough for about a month and a week, wrote a note, and left.
Tayler, Ciona, Dad-
Goodbue.
- Rayna
