Double Trouble

Chapter 1: Skylar's Life

BOOM! BAM! BOOM! BAM! My alarm clock screeches off my night table right beside my bed. I groan out loud and slowly pull it off the ground. Once it's on the table, I pound the snooze button. Five minutes later, the process repeats itself and about a minute later, I'm halfway upright and sitting on the edge of my bed. I groan and trudge myself to the door of my closet, tripping over one half of a brown leather boot in the process. I stop and look around my room. A small white desk, a wooden dresser, and a white headboard on the head of my bed fits the size of my tiny room. My laptop is open ajar, with the Netflix home screen open. I absolutely adore Netflix. It's sad; I don't have a life outside of the real world besides homework and Netflix. Oh, and the occasional trip to the refrigerator, if I might add.  

                I slide my army long jacket over my burgundy knit sweater and pair it with a pair of black stretch leggings. I pull on my combat boots and examine myself in the mirror. When I'm done, I pull my hair back into a low ponytail. I just opened my eyes not too long ago, so therefore, hair is not a priority in the mornings. I slide mascara on my eyelashes and brush shimmery brown eye shadow on my eyelids. After, I spread nude lip gloss over my lips. Finally, I examine myself in the mirror one more time and I breathe a sigh of relief. I look at my alarm clock. 7:25. Good. Still have time to eat and make it to school. That is, if my sister Madelyn is even up yet...

               

"Madelyn, hurry your butt down here!" I yell up to my older sister, Madelyn. "We're going to be late for school!" I dump out the remnants of my cereal into the sink and place the bowl in the bottom of the sink.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Chill young sister," my older sister says as she trots through our main foyer into the kitchen in a denim mini skirt, a blush pink cardigan top, and three-inch wedges to top her outfit. "Take a chill pill, Sky." I moan. She grabs an apple from the island counter.

"We can't be late for school again. One tardy more, and we have to make up school on Saturday," I point out. "And you can't see your boyfriend." I laugh and snort. "Oh wait, you can't see your boyfriend anyway, because he dropped out of school."

"That's none of your business!"

"Oh, really? Shouldn't it be Mom and Dad's business? I'm sure they don't want their eighteen year old daughter to be dating a boy such as Dylan," I point out. "And especially a high school dropout, I might add." She stays silent as she pulls out her Sidekick and starts emailing. She strolls to her baby blue convertible bug. When Mom and Dad had surprised Madelyn with this car on her sixteenth birthday, I had begged them not to get me the same one. I'm already embarrassed to be seen riding shotgun, nevertheless, caught dead driving one.

"You know, Mom and Dad don't need to know about Dylan. It's his life and if he wants to drop out, that's his decision. And I'm supporting him." She gives me a look and I drop it. The drive over to school takes only seven minutes, but those seven minutes were silent, as usual. My parents were usually busy; my dad is an entertainment lawyer and several of his clients are top A-listers. I have never met any of his clients. I have no desire to meet them. However, Madelyn has constantly begged and begged to meet Johnny Depp, but my dad will not pursue her dreams. My mom, on the other hand, is a columnist for Poise Magazine. She mostly stays at home and writes, to take care of the house while my dad is away. Also, to take care of my sister and me. However, she often travels to Manhattan, where Poise central office is located. So, them being well-off, they supply us with limited black AMEX cards, which have $200 monthly allowances. Madelyn usually uses her money within the first week; however, I gradually save my money over time. I guess, to conclude, I'm the financially savvy sister.

We pull into the high school parking lot, where several other teenagers in their fancy yellow Porsches, black SUVs, and cherry red convertible bugs mill about. As Madelyn pulls into the closest parking spot up front, I stare at the many people texting on their expensive smartphones, exchanging cell phone numbers, gabbing about the party last weekend, and the football players throwing footballs around.