Purple

Chapter 1

The faint sound of a blaring siren rings through my ears. Maybe if I focus on something else it will go away. But the sound gets louder and louder and louder. I want to scream at the top of my lungs to make it shut up. I open my mouth to scream out loud, not caring what anyone thinks. But as I start to scream, no sound comes out. I close my mouth, clear my throat, and try again, desperately waiting for the siren's sounds to go away. But still no sound. I ball up my fists, frustrated and decide to give it one more go. Once again I open my mouth and take a deep breath, ready for the biggest scream of my life. Just before I start to scream, I ask myself why I even want to scream. Why are the sirens so bad?

My eyes flutter open, my ears filled with the sounds of the siren. I lay in the same spot for a at least thirty seconds before becoming fully aware that I had been dreaming and I was know awake. I turn my head to the side and see the siren sounds are coming from my beauty and the beast alarm clock. My great uncle got it for me when I turned seven. Why I still have it and am actively using it seven years later I'm not sure. With a pathetic groan I turn over onto my stomach and throw both of my hands to my bedside table, planting them on top of the girly alarm clock and stopping the sirens. Immediately my head goes from throbbing to just plain tired. If I can just get a little more sleep....

No, I need to get up. I raise my head just enough to look at the time on the clock. It's 6:47, so I still have 45 minutes tops to get decent looking and head out to my life guard job at the boring town pool. I move my hands off the clock one at a time and move them to my side. They're so sore they feel like the ramen noodles I ate last night for dinner. I use my noodle-like arms to push myself up into a sitting position so I'm facing the door, my feet hanging off the edge of my bed,

I looks down at the floor. My stubby feet are a good foot away from the ground. In reality, 12 inches is nothing, but in the view of a hormonal teenage girl who just woke up, it feels like the freaking Grand Canyon. I start to slide off the edge of the bed slowly, bringing my purple polka dotted comforter down with me. Before I can put my feet down, my comforter is already in front of me. I land on the comforter and thanks to the wooden floor, my feet slip right out from under me and I land right back on my butt. Great, now I'm back to where I started.

I reluctantly push myself up and walk over to my mirror hanging on the my green wall next to my dresser. I look myself up and down. Jeez, what a mess. Pieces of hair are sticking out from the bun I had put in my hair last night, my orange nail Polish was starting to peel off, not to mention the smeared makeup I didn't bother to take off before I fell asleep.

I move my attention away from my reflection in the mirror and take a couple steps over to my dresser. I open the top drawer and pull out my red lifeguard bikini. After closing the drawer I step out of my tank top and Winnie the poo shorts and pull on the bikini. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror out of the corner of my eye, I decide I should put on a shirt and pull on a spaghetti strap tank with purple and blue flowers and finish it off with a pair of slightly ripped jean shorts.

With a tired sigh, I take down my hair and brush it. The knots are hard to brush through as I hadn't used conditioner last night. After three minutes of practically tearing clumps of hair from my scalp, I give up and throw my hair into a simple ponytail.

Although I'm looking slightly better at this point, my mascara and eyeliner is still smeared under my eyes. I spit in my finger and rub until the black color is gone. Sure, it might be gross, but it sure is efficient. Now time for inspection. As I do every morning, I step back three steps and examine my whole body n the mirror. My outfit looks okay, my orange-red hair is curly at the tips of my ponytail, and my freckles still cover my pale face. Sigh. I take one last look before running over to my door and throwing it open. Sun shines through the window down the halls and I'm forced to squint my eyes. I start to walk down the stairs, wincing from the pain in my butt from falling off the bed earlier.

I raise my nose up into the air and sniff for the smells if cooking bacon or toast. I don't smell anything. Everyone must be out already. When I get to the kitchen, I find out was right. No one is home. I look over at the clock on the stove. I still have a good thirty minutes. The tile floor feels cold on my feet as I open the fridge and grab a cinnamon bun to go. After closing the fridge I grab my sunglasses off the counter and walk over to the door. I have better places to be them home.