Poor Scarlet

Chapter 1: Early Bird Gets the Worm

I grew up in a house that seemed to never be calm and relaxed; we always were on a tight schedule that we all followed to the T.

The only time life ever felt composed, was when we went to church on Sunday for an hour; but even that tranquility has been forgotten as one of my brothers soccer games now takes up the entire morning and afternoon.

So, now, every day is run by a calendar on the wall next to the fridge, the taunting plan making life much more stressful than need be.

But, only if time could be reversed and life would go back to the schedules familiar plan, then maybe I would appreciate it a whole lot more; because now that it is completely gone, life has become an unstable and dreadful mess.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Oh, the beautiful sounds of my aged pink alarm clock, doing it's assigned job every morning; disturbing my sleep with its piercing shrieks of torture.

I yank my hand out from under the cozy blankets and the cold air latches onto my hand as I smack down on the snooze button.

"Please, just five more minutes." I plea; my tired voice barely audible over the obnoxious broken clock; and the abused snooze button not pushing down as I continue on punching it.

I slowly climb out of my bed and tug the clocks plug from the wall; stillness finally returning to the early morning silence.

"It's time to get ready." I remind myself, stumbling over to my closet as I tossed around my clothes till I found something decent to wear.

I pull on the wrinkly attire and hop into the bathroom; finally not having to fight my brothers over who gets the privilege to use the cluttered and tiny bathroom first.

I rush to get my teeth brushed, hair un-knotted, and shower in before my brothers furious and incessant pounding would fill the bathroom walls. I also needed to hurry up before my elephant brothers devoured all of the breakfast and then smile at me as they repeat their favorite phrase, 'early bird gets the worm.'

I check my reflection, a thick layer of toothpaste and slime covering the filthy mirror. I nod my head and then stampede downstairs, cinnamon and bread wafting into my nose as I entered the noisy kitchen.

"Good morning." My mom shouts; her usually kind voice sounding odd as she tries to be louder than the blaring tv and my bellowing brothers.

"Is there any food left?" I ask; staring hopefully at the covered plate on the stove.

"Yes. I saved you four pieces." My mom says quietly; handing me the hot plate of steaming French toast that was filled with powdered sugar and sweet maple syrup. "But eat quickly, you don't want to miss going to school with your brother. I work late tonight and won't be able to pick you up from detention."

"Okay. I know, every Friday you work late." I sigh, fourteen years of following the precise schedules; you think my mom would know I've gotten pretty good at memorizing it. I inhale my breakfast, gulping down the last bite as I nab my backpack from the front closet, the neon pink looking very out of place with my brothers dark packs.

"Let's go." Jonathon calls, walking quickly past me and out the door as he stomps across the gravel driveway, over towards his black sedan.

I race out the front door and storm to his car; my feet smacking against the stones as I silently pray Nick wouldn't be occupying the front seat . . . No such luck.

"Not today." Nick laughs, sending me a smirk as he points his finger obnoxiously at the back seats. Oh, how I want to twist that finger off.

I give him a sassy glare as I stomp to the back, my shoulder slapping against the car door as I fling myself into the leather seats.