Smarty | A Curtis Sister Story

1

It was just another normal Thursday. I ate breakfast before walking to school with my brother, Ponyboy (I know it's a crazy name. I got another brother named Sodapop too). I sat through boring Science and Math and had fun in Art, just like any other day.

I'm so rude, you don't even know who I am. I'm Kathleen. Kathleen Alanyah Curtis. But people, mainly my friends, call my Smarty.

So anyways, the school day was finally over, so Pony and I were on our way back to our house. It was February, so I was bundled up in a coat. But not Pony.

He shivered. "Why didn't you wear a coat Pony?" I asked.

"Because it's not cool." He answered and brought his hands to his arms, moving them up and down, trying to warm himself up.

"Well that's what you get for being stupid." I tell him.

"Oh shut up Smarty!" He exclaims.

"Whatever. We're almost home." I point out. We were a few houses down from ours, so Pony started to sprint. He was a runner on our school's track team. Well, the high school's track team. I'm only in seventh grade. He was real fast, and for the life of me I couldn't keep up, so I walked behind him.

When I got into the house. I threw my book bag on the floor, took off my jacket, and basked in the warm air. We didn't use the heater too much, but Darry was making something in the oven and it warmed the house. It smelled like roast beef.

He asked me before I left for school to check on it. "I'll come home at one to put it in the oven." I remember him telling me. "You have to check it again. I don't want to burn the house down." I did what he told me, it was perfectly fine. No fires today in the Curtis house. 

I know what you're thinking, why would you leave the oven on while nobody's home? Well, we needed to eat dinner, and Darry's always working, so we compromise. Sodapop cooks for us sometimes, but he can't always do it.

I walked into my room and procrastinated my homework. I have my own room, which is great for me. Since Soda moved into Pony's room when he started to have nightmares after Mom and Dad died, I got his room. It wasn't huge, but it was nice. I loved it. I had drawings spewed all along my desk, and some hanging up too.

I like to draw anything: people, places, Mickey Mouse, you name it. That was one of the many things Pony and I agreed on, drawing for fun. The other boys didn't get it very much, just me and him. And maybe Johnny.

I sat down at my tiny desk, cleaned off my art work, and grabbed my Math textbook. I had thirty problems to do for tomorrow, so I figure I have to start now.

I got through three problems before I threw my pencil. I hate math, and I don't get how to do the Pythagorean Theorem. "Pony!" I yelled.

"What?"

"Can you help me with math?"

"What?!" He calls again.

"Can you help me with math?" I belt, slower this time.

"Sure," he answers, "come in here."

I gather my stuff up and make my way to his room. He's sprawled out on the floor, three textbooks opened, writing in a notebook.

"If your busy I can come back." I say and I turn around in the doorway.

"No it's fine," he says and when I turned back around, smiles at me, "I need a break from genes." I sit down next to him. "What do you need help with?"

"Pythagorean Theorem." I tell him.

"Hmmm," He answers, "a squared plus b squares equals c squared."