Asher x Y/N

The Book of Mormon...?

 It was a rainy day; the pitter-patter of the thin water-drops splashed gently onto your window. Your eyelashes fluttered as you slowly began to open your eyes. It was morning—no it was the first day of school. You whisked away the curtains, revealing the gloomy fog-covered Tuesday morning that day was. You groaned.

Of all days, why did it have to rain today?

"Whatever," You mumbled as you lazily arose from your creaky old bed. You had to get a new mattress soon.

You scratched your tangled nappy H/C colored hair and yawned. You trudged drearily towards the bathroom and flicked on the light. Grabbing your iPhone, you began to put on your Freddie Mercury playlist on the highest volume possible. You then gripped onto your toothbrush and lathered the bristles with toothpaste.

"Don't..stop me now......having such a good time........hmmm hmm..," You sang while you brushed your teeth.

Freddie Mercury could make your mood become automatically boosted, so you weren't feeling too bad about today. Though, that day you had been late for the bus. Go figure. Your mother had to drive you.
Your mother started the car, adjusted the rearview mirror where she could see your eye bagged covered face and sighed abrasively.

"Y/N, you have toothpaste all over your mouth," she said.

You could practically feel the eye roll in her ticked off tone. You jerked up and hastily wiped your mouth with the sleeve of your "My Chemical Romance" hoodie.

"Better?" You said in a mocking type voice, raising your arms up as if you were shrugging.

Her eyebrows furrowed angrily, "Don't give me that attitude, Y/N. No one made you late but yourself. It's the first day!"

You looked outside the window and mumbled, "Whatever, it's not like I wanted to be late, you kept rushing me.."

Your mother's eyes widened in aggravation and she turned her head to look at you from behind her seat, "What did you just say, Y/N?"

You stammered, "N-Nothing..."

"That's what I thought. God, you're such a nuisance." She said, turning back toward the dashboard, and applying another layer of rouge lipstick onto her lips.  

It's like she had 100 layers on those cracked lips of hers, like a wedding cake, except not as majestically beautiful and much more hideous. She made sure to line around her pathetically thin lips and it wasn't even the slightest bit attractive.

Your mother began to dig through her purse, her ugly makeup, and foul perfume probably shuffling around that ghastly colored-duffle bag.

"Goddamnit..." She shuffled harder.
"What?"
"Here." She said.

She handed you a strange dark blue book that was titled, "The Book of Mormon".  What the heck?