nothing to everything.

•Chapter 1•

"Malia!" My mother calls out, "Breakfast!"

Uhhh. Monday. I hastily get up and slip on the first thing I see on "the chair". I grab my very torn and faded navy blue cap and put it over my straight brown hair. Running out of my room I catch a glimpse of my sister, Andrea. "Hey Andy!" I call out.

"Hey Mal!" She calls back. Reaching the stairs, I find my shoes.I reach over to my dirty converse and suddenly fall down the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Owwwww," I say in agonizing pain.

"Malia..." my mother says, her voice drifting, "just-shake it off and come eat your breakfast." She turns around and walks back into the kitchen.

I get up, massaging my lower back. Picking up my shoes and books, a white envelope catches my eye. I bend down, pick it up, open it, and start reading.

Ms. Malia Smith,
We are delighted to inform you that your application to University of California in Los Angeles has been accepted.

Forgot about that. With my credit score, I was allowed to start applying to universities earlier than my other classmates. Or, Junior year, not Senior year.

A couple weeks ago, I had gotten a big yellow envelope. Inside informed me that I had been accepted into UCLA. The thing is, I haven't told my parents. They've always strived for me to go to Hardvard to become a lawyer.

That's their dream, not mine. I've always wanted to be a Neurologist surgeon, ever since I was a little girl. So, how do I tell my parents and kill their dreams?

I shove the envelope back into my bag and start walking to the kitchen.

"Hey Hon," my mother says with a cheeky smile, "waffles?"

"Yes," I respond, running my hands through my tangly hair, "please."

My mother's phone starts vibrating. "Oh! It's the company. We're closing a new deal in Paris. The dresses were supposed to arrive there last Friday, but they seem to be missing. Sorry love, I have to take this. I love you, ok?" Mom says quickly. That's her, the fashion designer.

"Yeah," I say flatly, "Go ahead. Love you, too."

She picks up the phone. "Hello? Mr. Oswald? Yes, this is she. I called because..." her voice fades as she walks out of the kitchen.

Our maid, Sabrina, quickly comes over to serve me my waffles.

"Toma," Sabrina commands, passing me the waffles, "come...necesitas ponerte fuerte, para que cuando le digas a tus padres que irás a UCLA, puedas salir de la casa corriendo, antes de que te maten."

I chuckle. "Okay, Sabrina. Te prometo que me voy a poner fuerte. Para tú, y solo tú."

Sabrina smiles and walks out of the kitchen. Yet another thing to add to the list of the things my parents don't know about me. First, I have a very close relationship with Sabrina. She helps me with homework, struggles, and has practically raised me. Second, I can speak Spanish...fluently.

That just proves of how little time my parents spend with me. They're always so busy with their jobs, I always question why they even had kids.

As I begin to pick up the fork to eat my waffles, my father appears, descending from the stairs. He walks into the kitchen. "Good morning, how are you today?" My father says, in his deep voice.
"Hey," I respond, "I'm good, what about you?"

He looks up from the coffee he just poured himself. With a quick shake of his head he turns to the side and shows me his Bluetooth earpiece. Oh, right. He's always wearing that stupid thing, 24/7.

I give a slight nod, showing my alertness of the situation. This always happens, every single morning. He'll walk in, say good morning, and me, being the idiot, will think he is talking to me and turns out...he's not.

He grabs his coffee and walks out of the kitchen, towards his office.

Yep, that's how it is every day. Believe it or not, my family used to be really close. We would take vacations, have family game nights, watch movies, go to church. And then one day, everything changed.

Mom had been trying to get promoted from assistant to something that actually mattered. She was in a meeting with her boss, and while she wasn't allowed to speak, she spoke up about something, risking her job. Thus, her boss fired her after she commented on how to make a dress better, with a little more "bling".

Then, as she was collecting her things, her boss's boss approached her. He said that he wanted her aboard the team. And her dream came true.

After that, she started having less and less time for the family. Dad started getting noticed and being promoted. Between the two of them, they made about $800,000. So, they bought a big house and moved us to the most expensive neighborhood in our town.

After sitting and thinking for a couple minutes, I get up and grab my bag. "Andy I'm leaving!" I yell.

"No wait I just need 20 more minutes!"

"20 more minutes my ass," I mutter, " Sorry, can't wait that long. Bye!" I finish calling out.

"Mal just give me-"

I shut the door, leaving Andrea mid-sentence. I get to my car, a brown Volvo. My parents got me it for my sixteenth birthday and, trust me, I thought it was a little excessive, too.

As I get to the car, I look up and catch a glimpse of Jordan Carrey. Jordan and I have been neighbors ever once we moved. So, about eleven years. To be honest, I've always had a crush on him.

He's the kind of guy that all girls are heart-eyes for. Surprisingly, me too. Only, I knew that Jordan and I belonged together. We knew each other so well it even came to the point where even the slightest change in motion could tell us if something was wrong or not.

Problems were the only things keeping us from dating.  Problems like he was the most popular guy, and I was the biggest loser. Problems like he dated a new girl every week. Problems like I had all eyes on him, and he had all eyes on...everywhere else.

I couldn't do anything. I was me and he was him. Not even the power of God could change that. So I look over, and I wave, and he waves back. I get in my car, put my bag in the passenger's seat, turn on my car, and start driving to school.