Meant To Be(?)

Chapter 1

My alarm blares, rudely ripping me from the deep slumber in which I had fallen the previous night. Begrudgingly I roll to my left to grab my phone. I squint at the screen of my HTC 1X smartphone and hit the snooze button. I was not ready to start my day just yet. If I could just get ten extra minutes of rest until my alarm screams at me again, that might do the trick. Unfortunately, I wouldn't get the chance as a loud knock on my door makes sure of that. My mother's voice booms through the crack of my door thereafter.

"Iyeisha Yale!" she yells.

I sit bolt upright in my bed.

"Yeeees?"

"You get your ass out of that bed and get dressed! Your bus isn't running today which means I'm dropping you off at school on my way to work!".

I roll my eyes and toss my big white comforter aside. It's too early for her to already be yelling at me, especially for something that I don't even have control over. But there's no arguing with that woman. I toss my legs over the edge of my queen-sized mattress and get out of my bed. On the way to my closet, I caught a glimpse of myself in my full-body mirror. Puberty hit me hard over the summer. Last year I was just another flat-chested, petite eighth-grader, but not anymore. Not only do I now wear a C-cup bra, my ass and hips seemingly exploded. What's worse is that if I don't have on bottoms, I can feel it jiggle when I walk. Add to that the fact that I have a curvy, five-foot, four-inch frame and it should be easy to understand how my newfound assets garnered a lot of unwanted attention. Grown men approach me thinking that I'm older than I am and it makes me very much uncomfortable. I truly don't understand how some girls can walk out of the house wearing barely any clothes. I rarely even wear leggings because of how they hug me against my behind.

I shake my head and walk into my closet to grab the white blouse and long, yellow skirt I set aside the night before. It was my first day of high school and I knew I had to look right. I also grab my white flats and walk back over to lay everything out nice and neat on my bed. I then grab my freshly washed towel and head across the hall into the bathroom. I was short on time thanks to my mother hounding me so I make short work of my shower, quickly but thoroughly washing my body before stepping out onto the bathroom floor. I stand in front of the mirror and wrap my towel around me. I wasn't going to have the time to do my make-up but that's fine. Not to sound cocky, but I already have a very naturally pretty face. A quick eyebrow job and some lip gloss will do. I stare at my reflection and start undoing the twists I had in my hair. Unlike a lot of black moms, my mother never once permed my hair. She would always say she never wanted to make the choice of having natural hair away from me. I really appreciate her for that because even though it's a really big hassle to keep up with, I absolutely adore my natural mane. After about twenty minutes, I finally finish taking the twists out of my hair. I fluff my now wavy, defined curls with a pick before securing my towel and heading back into my room. I went into my drawer to grab some underwear and slide them on. I put on my outfit and sit down in front of the mirror in my room to touch up my eyebrows. I was just adding the finishing touches when I heard my mother's voice for the second time this morning.

"IYEISHA YALE!" she screams.

"I'm coming!" I yell back.

I hastily put a coat of lip gloss over my lips before throwing it in my purse. I step my feet into my flats and head downstairs. Walking into the kitchen to see my mother putting whipped cream atop two cups of coffee. My mother was a very short woman, standing at only five foot two inches tall. She wears her black blazer with a white button-down underneath coupled with a black skirt and flats. Even though she herself had a hair full of curls it was tucked tightly into a perfect bun atop her head. Anyone who sees her next to me will almost immediately notice our family resemblance as my face was nearly a direct copy of hers.