BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The alarm clock on my night stand blared at me and I groaned, I could have sworn I had changed it to some soothing wake-up song three days ago, but it was too late now. I swung myself out of bed and in three easy strides crossed my room and opened the door to my tiny closet, pulling on the navy blue cardigan/miniskirt combo that was my school uniform. Our bathroom is only a little bigger tan my closet, but I pulled out my hair curler anyway, determined to make an effort for my first day of school. As the curler heated up I stared at myself in the vanity mirror over the sink; my long brown hair which fell in quick waves to the center of my back was still messy from having just woke up, and my dark green eyes still had sleep in them. In short, I looked like absolute crap. Once I was done with my hair I went across the hall and knocked sharply on the wall next to the door.
"Meg!" I shouted, "Get up! You're going to be late for your first day of 8th grade!" I could just about hear her moan of protest from the other side of the thin wooden door, but I had taught her better than to go back to sleep. Confident she was awake I moved to the next door down to Meg's. "Parker," I said softly,"it's a new day buddy, get up and face it." there was no response and I furrowed my brow - was something wrong? I was about to knock when the door opened and there stood Parker, little cherubic blond curls rumpled, baby blue eyes still 1/2 closed.
"Hmmmm?" he murmered, "Macy?"
"I'm here little guy," I replied, picking him up and setting him on my hip "what's up?"
"Bad dream." he replied, rubbing his eyes. If there was one thing I loved about Parker, it was his honesty. For a five year old he seemed to have an uncanny ability so sense when people needed to hear the truth. But I knew better than to ask what his dream had been about, I knew what he'd say; 'the monsters'. When our mother left us four years ago I hadn't been able to tell him the truth - that she was gone, and wasn't coming back. So on the spur of the moment I had told him 'the monsters had taken mommy away.' Now, he seemed to accept the fact mom had left by herself, but the monsters with snapping teeth and fierce, mean eyes still plauged his dreams from time to time, and it killed me knowing there was nothing I could do to help him. So instead, I gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and went to go make breakfast.
"DAD!" I shouted "We're off to school!" my voice reverberated through the empty stairwell and I sighed. Dad always gets up early; weather it's to go open the resturaunt, go make the pizza dough for the lunch rush, he always seemed to leave the apartment before we were even awake. After a moment I turned and slung my backpack over one shoulder, tired of waiting for a response that won't come. Meg and I walked Parker to the elementary school and saw him safely inside before heading up the street to Our Mother of Mercy High School, or OMMHS as it's called for short. "You nervous about your first day?" I asked, today, the first day of 8th grade would be Meg's first day of high school, and I could tell she was starting to panic.
"A little." she concieted.
"Hey," I quipped "what did you think of that book I lent you?" trying to take her mind off those first day of school jitters.
"It was good - I loved that part where -" And we launched into an in depth discussion of the book, our annalysis covering every facet of the book, nothing escaped our notice. My sister and I are more like best friends than sisters, we never fight and are super close despite the fact we're two very different people.
But our conversation was cut abruptly short when we reached the front doors of the school and were forced to part ways and head toward our respective classrooms. I picked through the first day of school confusion,staring at the school schedule in my hands. Did you know that you only have to be fifteen to have a legitimate job with a buisness owned by your family?
I wished dad had let me take a full time job with him at the pizzeria instead of insisting I finish high school. But I only had a year left to go, then I could do what I loved all the time - managing the resturaunt owned by my father. I had always done well in school ( dad said I took after mom), but it never really held much interest for me. The grandson of hard working immagrants my old man had never seen Italy, yet managed to cook like a master without so much as setting foot in a classroom. But there are two things he never had a clue about;
A) raising three kids ages 17, 13, and 5
B) running and managing the profits and advertising of an actual buisness
Naturaly all of these duties then fall to me.
So, as you can probably see from all I've told you so far, I'm NOT your average teenager growing up on Manhatann's Lowe East Side. Most girls spent their time preoccupied with boys and make-up I have my family and all the added responsibilities that come with them.
So, as you can tell from all I've told you so far, I'm not your average 17 year old growing up on Manhatann's Lower East Side. Most girls spend their time preoccupied with boys and make-up whereas I have my family,
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