Poison Ivy

1.

        "When we dead awaken... we see that we have never lived."

It was the same routine every morning. Breakfast was served at exactly 0700, followed by bathroom time which was only allotted a grand total of ten minutes. That included shower and the uber-exhaustive task of brushing your hair, and whatever other necessities you needed to take care of. Being a girl, I found this part of the morning nearly next to impossible. But those were his ways.

The first day of school had finally approached. It was a considerably short summer. The family–well, my dad–decided not to go on vacation unless it involved the football field down the street. He spent all his time this summer making sure Clark, my older brother, was prepared for a full ride scholarship. My dad is putting all his money on him, and I'm sure Clark wouldn't disappoint. He's an amazing athlete, and scouts are nearly knocking down our front door to get him to play for their school. But there was only one school in my dad's eyes that mattered: University of Texas.

It's the school he wanted us all to get into on scholarship. For Clark it was football, for my little sister Katarina, soccer, and for me...well, sports aren't my thing. I was not given the athletic talents that my siblings and father possess. I've tried many sports throughout the years: soccer, softball, volleyball, gymnastics, and tennis. I sucked at all of them. Instead, I inherited music abilities from my mom. I sing (in private) and I play music. That's all I'm good at.

My family fit together perfectly like a puzzle. Clark is the exact photocopy of our mother. Dark brown hair and eyes and prominent nose. But he had all the personality traits and mannerisms of our dad. Katarina is our dad through and through. His blue eyes, his temper, his athleticism. And then there's me. That last piece of the puzzle that had been chewed on by the family dog, and no longer fits quite right. I have my mom's long dark brown hair and tanner skin, but I'm the only one in my family to come out with green eyes. And I don't just mean a dark green or hazel. I mean a bright green, eden colored. It doesn't look freaky or anything, it's just different compared to everyone else. Not to mention my lack of athletic abilities, my passive attitude, and my inability to see football as the best sport on the planet.

In the Kent household, everything must be uniform. If it isn't...then there is a problem. As much as I hate to think of it, I am the problem. Not because I'm rebellious, because I'm not. And not because I'm eccentric, because I'm not. But because I'm not like them. I'm not like how my dad wants me to be. Who my dad wants me to be.

Looking down at the table into his dark blue eyes, I see the confusion and frustration he has toward me. I don't look anything like him. I don't have his eyes, his smile, his ears, his lips. There were several times as a child I remember hearing them arguing about me behind their bedroom door. Words like 'angering' and 'not okay' that seeped through the stained door were some of the ones that always stuck with me. I never understood as a child how I could cause my dad such grief. I tried to do what I was supposed to do, say what I was supposed to say...but it was never enough for him. I always managed to just be...wrong.

It wasn't like he intentionally treated me badly. There was just a significant difference in the way he treated me compared to the way he treated Clark and Katarina. They got away with a lot more than I could ever dream of, and they got more than what I could even imagine. Some may call it the middle child syndrome...but I know better.