Who Said Dorky Isn't the Way to Go?

Chapter One

Dark. Why was it so dark in my house?

I rolled over, and, somehow, managed to hit the floor, intertwined inside my bed sheets. I groaned and located my alarm---which was shrilly playing my-not-so-favorite-artist Katy Perry in an attempt to awaken me from my slumber. I looked outside. It was still dark. What in the bloody 'ell was I doing up?

Ohyeah.

Six o'clock in the morning in the summer of California. Ugh. I untangled myself, my bare skin hitting my icy wooden floor. Whose smart idea was it to wear black shorts and a tank top? Ohyes, IknowWhoNow. Mine. My wonderful, wonderful, idea.

As if my blaring alarm clock/radio hadn't woke me up, my father and mother were screaming, "Peyson!" at top the top of their lungs quite perkily to say it was six in the morning. Darn morning people. I stood up and shook my hair out, trying to get my barings straight.

"Okay, Peyson--I'm up, okay?" I yelled, dancing into my bathroom where I had--once again--forgotten to turn the heater off. A big wave of heat slapped me in the face. I stepped back automatically, yowling--much like my cat, Beetle--as I tripped over my covers, my butt thunking--none too kindly--on the ground.

Just then my light came on and my adopted brother, Trevor, was staring down at me, shaking his head. "You big klutz.."

I rolled my eyes at him and got up, turning the heater down. It was still hot as sin in my room. I turned on the cool shower and dunked myself into it, heart pounding and stomach flipping. Because, hey, it was my first day at a new school. A new school in a place that wasn't New Orleans, Louisiana. Somewhere in the city. Somewhere where I would have to drive miles to get to a horse.

Ohyeah, I forgot I don't drive.

I turned the shower off and tied my robe around myself. I brushed my teeth and applied some make-up on my face--blue eye-shadow, mascara. I then danced around in my room, rifling through my closet for something to wear.

Um, blue jeans? Or blue shorts? Too short? Mini-skirt? With leggings? Knee-high leggings? Nope.

Capris. Let's go with capris.

I put on my blue jean capris, only to rip them off and instead choose my blue jean shorts. They were a little too big, so I put my famous, New Orleans Saints belt on with it, too.

Um, shirt. Tee-shirt? Tank? Blue? Green? Purple? White? New Orleans Saints shirt? Urm.

Teal blue shirt with my black tie.

Now, shoes. Flip-flops? Tennis? Converse? Boots?

Cowgirl boots definitely. I need the piece of home.

Wardrobe decided, I bounded downstairs, checking the time. Good. Ten minutes left. I went into my new, sunny kitchen where my mother and father were sitting there, happy-as-can-be, drinking their coffee and making googly-eyes at each other.

They disgust me.

My mother is a scientist. She was also a science dork in high school. My father was the equally dorky math dork. Now, they both teach at an university. And they are wildly in love. Still. Blegggghhhh.

"Aye, Ma. Mornin', Daddy," I greeted, pulling a fruit salad mix out of the refridgerator. Yummy. Mangos, oranges, apples, pears, and strawberries. I dumped some into a bowl, pulling out another bowl for my brother, Trevor. He was older than me. Had been in the house longer than me. Mama first thought she couldn't have kids. "TREV!" I hollered. "Whacha want for breakfast?"

Mama flinched. "Peyson, please, don't scream throughout the house."

I frowned. "Why not? I did it in N'Awlins," I replied just as Trevor hollered from upstairs, "CEREAL!"