Welcome to Arson high

pimple problems

"Wake up, wake up" my bed creaked as my little sister, Andy bounced on it.

I sighed and sat up, sunlight escaped through my curtain.
' You know, if I didn't love you so much you'll be dead by now' I said.

I kissed her forehead and swung my feet, wincing as I felt the heat of the floor. I must have left the heater on. Great. I made my way to the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror, surprise, surprise I got a new pimple. New week new pimple, at least it won't show that much on my brown skin. I stared at myself for the 3rd time since I woke up analyzing myself, dark brown eyes stared back at me, my nose ring glinting in the bathroom light. I sighed and pushed it into my nose as a reminder of a dare that went wrong, at that moment it didn't occur to me that my Nigerian mother would kill me if she ever saw it.

After having a shower, I looked at my wardrobe, I settled on jeans and a green tank top. As it was the start of the fall term, it was scorching outside. I have probably worn that top tons of times since its purchase,  I didn't have a lot of clothes mostly because I am quite indecisive when it comes to buying clothes.

"Sarah?"  Andy chirped from my bed.

"mmh" I muttered, putting some mascara on.

"What does being preggers mean".

I froze and turned around, looking down at her big eyes, filled with so much innocence and wonder and I sighed.

"Well, let's just say that you were born through that process, why do you ask?" I responded while rummaging through my drawers for clean socks.

" I heard daddy talking about it" Then she walked out of my room.

" Ally, wait..."

Mum has been thinking of having another child like they just spawned out of nowhere. However,  my dad is very busy and is worried that he won't be involved in the raising of the infant. My dad told me that he almost missed my birth 17 years ago, we laugh about it now but I know that my mother was upset, so upset that she almost refused to pass little me to my dad after I was delivered. Crazy.

After packing my bags I stared at myself one more time. This year was going to be different, this year I will not fail any classes while simultaneously having fun. Lord help me. Having a Nigerian mother meant discipline, this year I won't be careless, I have to work twice as hard to get what I desire and by what I desire, I mean a car. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for my 16th birthday gift coming up in February.  I am currently hitching rides from my best friend, Zayda, who is meant to be here by now.

I ran downstairs beating my dad to the last piece of toast, and he grunted in reply.

" someone's having a good morning," my mum said from the kitchen.

" I'm late, I have to go now" I stare at my mum who is approaching me with arms wide open. She wants a hug, I oblige her.

A car honked from outside breaking the hugging fest I was having with my mother, lately she gets to cuddle with me and it's a miracle if I get to escape her.

Andy ran down the stairs with her hair in pigtails that I didn't do for her, the little child of joy had started doing her hair by herself which saved me a lot of time.  My dad drops her off at an elementary school on his way to work so she settles on the couch and turns on the tv.

I grabbed my house keys and find my way out of the house, Zayda honked twice she knows that pisses me off. Go figure.
" You know I hate that honking sound, I could go deaf," I said pulling down my seat belt.
She ignored my comment and kissed me on the cheek. While reversing out of my driveway, she almost hits my neighbor, Mr, Handlock, who shakes his water bottle at us. I still don't understand why she has a driver's license, she drives like a maniac.

"You know I heard that there will be a pep rally next week," she tells me while pushing aside the month's worth of McDonald' receipts on her dashboard.

"You also heard that one direction was coming to L. A last month, but that wasn't true" I retorted. We were starting to approach school and I was starting to feel lightheaded. I always felt scared when finding parking space at school because in Lakeview High there are rules about cars. There is a social hierarchy put in place just for vehicles. The farthest parking spots were designated places for beaten-down cars while the expensive cars were located at the front of the school so you have easy access to the school's doors. Zayda's car is not that bad so it's located in the middle of the parking lot. To get there is a lot of struggling and fighting because we use the same pathway as the expensive car users and I might die of unification. Yes, did I mention I hate confrontations?

Anyway, we found a way. I mean  Zayda found a way, I was too busy trying not to throw up I bent my head down to shield my face both from the glare of the sun and from the religious clubs that wave posters and infographics in my face. Why they have this much energy on a Monday morning is beyond me.  Finally, the car stopped and my heartbeat went to normal.

"We have to do something about your fear of confrontation, it is very unhealthy. How do you expect to be successful if you can't throw some insults at spoilt brats?" Zayda lectures while we pass through the doors of our dear overpopulated school. Like always it smells faintly of bath and body works perfume, and powerfully of old socks and morning breath.

I chuckle at her words to find my new locker for the term. I look at the locker beside me wondering who my neighbor would be. Last year, I had a sweet girl who always shared her snacks with me. I hope to find the same luck this year. It turned out that I wasn't so lucky as to my left was a boy who kept a collection of dead butterflies hung up in his locker and to my right was a cheerleader who, by the sneer on her face when she saw me, didn't like me that much. Easy access to gossip I guess. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.