My Life as a Teenage Rebel

Chapter 1: Teenagers

CHAPTER 1 Teenagers

Teenagers. Zits, pimples (eew), warts, and hair in places you least want hair.

I remember once when I was fourteen, I found some of my mother's wax strips and decided to try them out. So I slapped one on my arm all la-dee-da like, really having no idea what the heck I was doing, and then I just ripped it right off, screaming bloody murder. It hurt like H-E-double hockey sticks. And that was the last time I ever went through my mother's stuff.

So yeah, waxing hurts, lesson learned. Anyhow, wassup? My name is Ky. I am fif-to-the-teen years of age and I am currently a sophomore in high school. Oh high school, wretched high school. I dunno if you've ever been, but if you're getting there, then GOOD LUCK.

I have an older brother, but, he's only older than me by five minutes and forty seconds. Yeah, we're twins. His name is Kyle. Which reminds me, did I mention that my real name is Kylee? Yep, Kyle and Kylee Madison. Thanks soooo much Mom and Dad, for your originality.

When we were kids, anytime someone over-extended on the "E" in Kyle's name when they were trying to call him, we would both turn our heads, confused because we had no idea which one of us they were trying to call. But luckily when I was five, my godfather fixed this dilemma by giving me the nickname "Ky" and that's what I call myself now.

I hear an alarm beeping annoyingly, and I reach out to turn it off. But my hand hits the wall. Which is weird, because the alarm in my room is supposed to be on the right side of my bed, and the wall on the left.

Groggily, I blink open my eyes to see what is up with the switch. And I realize: I'm in Kyle's room. You're kidding me right? Kyle and I stopped sharing rooms when we were eleven.

Confused, I sleepily get up on my knees, wondering what the fudge-balls is going on.

I'm in Kyle's bed. I can see his sleeping face, identical to mine, right under me. I pinch his nose and wiggle it around to get him to wake up, and he makes a face and moans, not wanting to get up. I release his nose and reach over him to shut off his blaring alarm. "Kyle?"

He moans in response.

"What am I doing in your bed?"

Kyle's eyes flash open and meet mine, and I raise my eyebrows at him, expecting an explanation. He stares at me for another minute. Kyle has nice eyes, they're a warm brown and they make me feel all safe inside.

But if I'm complimenting Kyle's eyes then I'm complimenting mine too, you know, since we have the same eyes.

Kyle shakes his head and sits up. "I dunno." he says, and then with a grin he suggests, "Maybe you just missed your big brother in the middle of the night."

Seriously? I'm, like, fifteen. I'm way too old to be missing my brother in the middle of the night, especially while knowing he's only one room away from mine.

Kyle gets up and walks off to his dresser, his bare back to me. I stare at it. "There was a storm last night, wasn't there Kyle?"

His shirt is off, so I can see his shoulder blades come closer together as he tenses. For a minute, he's quiet. I can imagine his face growing very pale, and he's probably glad I can't see it. After a while he quietly says, "Yeah..."

That's the end of this discussion. I try hard to forget about this whole thing.

Once Kyle has a shirt on, I get off his bed and we both trudge off to the bathroom, which is right between both our rooms.

We simultaneously pick up our toothbrushes, smear on some toothpaste, and stick 'em in our mouths, the bristles rubbing against our teeth. We stare at our reflections as foam begins to appear around our mouths as we brush, making us look like we're rabid or something.