"Sometimes it seems safer to hold it all in, where the only person who can judge is yourself."
~ Sarah Dessen
***
"Hear the drums pounding out of time,
Another protester has crossed the line to find,
The money's on the other side..."
Yes. Green Day. Again.
It's my morning song. The song that plays is my alarm that goes off every morning at 6:15.
I groan and roll onto to my stomach, groping around for my phone. My face is laying on something that's not my pillow. I try to look at it but end up smearing drool all over. Oh. Right. I fell asleep reading last night again.
"Can I get another 'amen'? -"
I sit up abruptly and pump my fist, shouting deliriously, "AMEN!"
"There's a flag wrapped around the score of men,
A gag, a plastic bag on a monument..."
I try getting out of bed but my sheets are tangled around my ankles, causing me to tumble to the hardwood floor with a groan.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter even though saying that in this house is synonymous to the phrase "I'm asking to die". Whatever, I don't care.
I roll around the floor, trying to free myself from my blankets to turn off my damn alarm. The guitar solo has started in the song and I finally untangle myself, grabbing my phone and turning off all my alarms. Yes. All four of them might I add.
I get dressed into a pair of high waisted army green pants and a thin but soft black sleeveless shirt that says in white block letters "DON'T GROW UP, ITS A TRAP". I pull on my black Converse and tear - quite literally - a brush through my blonde hair, practically ripping out my hair trying to brush out the knots, and once I'm done, I twist it into two braids. I clip on my cross necklace around my neck and open my door, walking down the hall to my brother's room, but not before grabbing a glass of water from the bathroom.
I open his door and see him sprawled across his bed. We always joked when we were younger that he slept "clockwise" and though he denied it, it still is very very true. I walk quietly into his room and loom over his bed where he snores, covered by the Buzz Lightyear comforter he's had since the third grade. I smirk at him and dump the glass of water on his head.
Bray sputters, his arms flailing and squealing, "AHH!" I grab his arms and use what little muscle I gained from PE class in sophomore year to drag him out of bed. He tries shoving me and hitting me but I've straddled him, punching his arms playfully.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" I shout in his face, trying to get my fifteen punches in.
"Cole you, JERK!" He splutters water all over my face and I laugh. His teeth start to chatter and I put in my last two punches then stand up, holding my hand out to him.
"Officially fifteen you stinker," I say. He glares at me and grabs my arm, having me pull him to his feet. He collapses back onto his bed.
"If this is what it means, I think I'm skipping today." He moans through his pillows. I roll my eyes at him and smack him across the calves.
