After the Words

1: Hapless Fortuity

The buzzing of my alarm yanks me out of my swaying sleep. As I slide out of bed, I remember something that makes me groan in distaste. The weekend is over, it's Monday, and I have school. Four weeks into my junior year of high school, and I'm already done, but, unfortunately, I can't just quit high school. Once you start, you have to keep going, no matter the pain.

I walk over to my dresser, and open my bottom drawer, then the middle drawer. Dark blue jeans and a teal tank top shirt. I slide open my closet door, and pull out a light grey, knitted cardigan. I get dressed, and then brush my hair-- when I say, "brush my hair," what I'm really saying is, "rip my hair out with a hair brush until it looks... okay". Then I go to the kitchen and cook breakfast for my three younger siblings, all the while stressing about my presentation in Spanish. Mi Pelicula Favorita. My favorite Movie, which is obviously Pixar's The Incredibles; a childhood classic.

"Lexa? Lexa, have you seen my water bottle?" My younger sister, Maria calls from down the hall. She's four years younger than me, but thinks she's older than me. Must be seventh grade.

"You left it on the couch." I say, annoyed that she keeps leaving her stuff everywhere. I drop two slices of bread in the toaster.
"Thanks, I knew that. Just testing you." She lies.

I crack two eggs into a pan, and sprinkle some salt over them. My other sister, Sydney, Syd for short, comes in and punches my arm.

"Morning, geek." She jokes, walking over to the toaster. She spreads butter on one piece of toast, then the other. I go over to the fridge, grab the jam, and slide it down the counter to Syd.

"Right back at yuh, weirdo." I say, winking at her. "Hey, by the way, Jones cancelled practice. It's been pushed 'til tomorrow." I tell her. Mr. Jones, our band director, couldn't get the field for practice, because football needed it.

"Yeah, I saw the band website yesterday. Last night before I went to bed," she said, putting a piece of toast in my mouth. I took a bite, and she put the rest of the toast on a plate on the table.

"Thanks." I said, chewing, "can you go wake Dylan?"

"Fine, but if I get punched, it's on you."

I shrugged. "That's fair." I waved her off.

I flip the eggs, slice some cheese, and daydream while I make my ten-year-old brother, Dylan's, lunch.

I continue the dream I had last night, where the Marching Band places first in finals, and the school has its annual fall sports assembly, but this time, they actually congratulate the Marching Band.

"Congrats, Marching Wolves." Reads a banner.

I'm yanked back into reality again, only this time, by my brother, and not my alarm.

"Dylan... We've told you to be careful." I say, walking over to the shattered glass of the plate he just dropped.

"Watch where you step, and get out of the kitchen. Please. I don't want you to step on broken glass. Once you're dressed, you can come eat your egg." I grab the broom and dustpan.

My mom goes to work early in the morning, and comes home at 7 pm, so we rarely see her, except on weekends. It's my job to make sure everyone eats breakfast, and make sure everyone gets to school-- I'm the parent in the morning. The elementary schools in our district get out at the same time middle school does, so Maria has to pick up Dylan and take him home right after she gets off the bus every day. High school gets out an hour after elementary school, so Syd and I can't pick him up.

"Hey, is it okay if I catch a ride with Lindsay? Her mom can pick me up on their way." Syd asks from the doorway of the kitchen. Dylan pushes past her and sits at the table. I put his egg on a plate, and set it in front of him.

"Yeah, sure, what time." I ask.

"Seven twenty." She replies. Dylan's bus comes at Seven Twenty-Five, and Syd and I usually catch our bus at Seven thirty.

"Ok, cool," I say, then call out to Maria, "Mar, your egg is ready. It's 7:12 you better hurry." She has to be to her bus stop by 7:18.

"I'm coming, geez. Calmate," She says, "Don't get so enojada." Whenever she's trying to act older than she is, she starts speaking spanish. She got it from dad before he left us three years ago.

My mom is of Irish descent, and she's white, so we look kind of white, but in the summer we tan, because of dad's Latino blood. Mis abuelos live down the street from us, and only my abuela can speak english, so we're all learning spanish. Dad left them too-- his own parents, and he left them. He went to go build another family with a skinny brunette from work.

"Sabes que eres niña, right? You're not older than me." I tell her. She doesn't say anything.
"Estoy hablando." I say. "¿Me escuchas?"

"Yeah, whatever." She rolls her eyes.

"Why is she so sassy?" Dylan asks Syd.

"I don't know, man. Probably just 'cause it's morning." Syd replies.

- - -

After making sure Maria and Dylan get on the bus, and Syd gets picked up, I grab my backpack and walk out the door. My bus stop is a blocks away, on the corner of our street; Mabel and Second Ave, right in front of an empty lot. I'm one of two people who gets picked up at that stop-- Syd being the other.

I pass the First Ave and Mabel intersection, and hear some loud screeching. Tires going crazy on the road. I turn to look behind me, but it's too late. A swerving car is coming at me, moments before everything stops.

Everything.
Stops.