The Many Wrongs That Turned Into a Right

Part 1

I think you don't really understand how wrong things are until something actually goes right. 

Looking back on the past four months, this was the only thing I could bring myself to logically think. The last four months had been a tornado of crap. Basically, imagine everything that could wrong in your life, then make them all go wrong at once. That's it, exactly that. And to think, this all started with the death of a hamster named Phillip. 

Wrong 1: Phillip the Valiant Hamster

"Well, Phillip, it's been swell. Enjoy your hamster heaven or whatever." I said looking at the box I had buried in my yard. I liked Phillip yes, but he was old and I was kind of waiting for it, and I mean, he was a hamster. There wasn't much love I could muster up for the rodent. I covered up the hamster grave then went back inside to my sister raiding the pantry for something we most probably did not have in the house. 

"Hey Firefly, do we have any banana bread?" she asked when I walked in. 

"Edith, think long and hard about this, when have we ever, ever had banana bread in this house?" I said leaning over the counter. She scowled at me but continued her search for non-existent banana bread. 

"Don't call me that." she said into the pantry. I smirked and rolled my eyes. 

"Well I'm not gonna call you whatever other ridiculous name you came up with this week. And while we're at it, are you ever going to stop calling me Firefly?" I asked. She had been calling me that ever since we were kids and I had taped a small flashlight to the inside of my pajama pants and told her, my brother, and my parents that I was a firefly. Edith then said, "Big sis the firefly!" and started calling me Sis the Firefly. Eventually, it became just Firefly. I'd truly grown to hate it. 

"Nope." she said, into the cabinet this time. I left her to look for her phantom banana bread and went up the stairs to my room, which was to the left, after reaching the top of the stairs and at the end of the hallway, my sister's directly next to it. My parents' room was on the other end of the hallway, the bathroom in between. Wes's room was in the basement, or rather was the basement. I hadn't had the stomach to venture down there for nearly a year now after discovering a towel in his bathroom that had had a mysterious purple substance dried to the fabric. I truly did not want to know what it was, nor where it had come from. I never ventured down there again. 

My bedroom, was the biggest out of both of my siblings, technically-Wes was only supposed to have the guest room-and I loved having the space. I was, after all, the eldest, so it was only fitting that I had the largest room. The wall my bed was leaning against had about 17,000 pictures and drawings plastered around my bed and desk. Some of the pictures were of my friends and family, but mostly I took pictures of things that moved. Cars, bikers, runners, kids. Basically anything moving. The kind of camera I had called for about six seconds of exposure to capture the photo, so things that moved left streaks of where they had been. And I really liked the way that looked. It reminded me of the fact that nothing stops moving, and whenever they did, be it a day from now or 1,000, the world would collapse on itself and we'd all die. Motion was pretty good. 

I flopped down on my leafy bedding and checking my phone for a text from Amy. 

Amy: Hey girl!! how r things? hows phillip been doing? 

Me: he died this morning, sorry. 

Amy: Awwwww poor baby! 

Me: Yeah i guess. i burried him. i think hes happy in hamster heaven. 

Amy: me too. anyway, do you wanna go to bengis tonight? 

Me: sure. what time?