INTROVERT

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It all started when I was over at my Kinse's house. We were home alone, discussing our favorite horror novels, when we were interrupted by a sudden ring from their home phone. Kinse jumped up, and headed for the phone. "Hello, Clark residence." I could hear faint mumbling coming from the phone, immediately realizing it was my dad, and I had not told him I wasn't going to be home. "Oh, I-I'm sorry sir. I'll let her know. Eda! Your pare-" "I know, I know. Sorry, I'll see you tomorrow." I softly replied, rushing out the door. Luckily my house was just down the block, but unluckily, I'm really slow and un-athletic. I'd finally reached home in about 4 minutes, which would only get me about a 25 second beating. "It's an improvement." I thought. "EDA! GET OVER HERE YOU LITTLE @&#%" My dad screamed, as I ran over, and replied with, "I'm sorry I'm late sir, I must've forgo-" "Save it, dip#%@&. Go to your room, your mother and I will treat you later." He huffed. You may be surprised that I have my own bedroom. Well, if I haven't mentioned, I actually have a younger brother named Boy. Yes, Boy. My parents thought we were both too unimportant for any specialty, so they didn't bother. Right, I do have a real name, but before I was born I had a grandmother named Eda, and she was the sloppiest, most unattractive, unintelligent person you'd ever meet, at least that's how my parents described her. So of course, they thought it'd be a perfect fit for me. But apparently Grandma Eda died the day I was born, and they were actually hoping I would too, on the day of Boy's birth. They even created a while scheme to get me dead, without any evidence of it being them who did it. Luckily I saw them setting up the blade-equipped trap, so for the whole day I avoided stepping on the loose wood plank in the kitchen, where would've lead me to the trap. Anyway, Boy and I share a small, stuffy room upstairs. The wallpaper is peeling, the wood is creaky, and we don't even have a door. Personally, I'd prefer not to change in front of a 2 year old, or anyone passing by our room while I'm undressing, but that's just me. Also, our room is always filled with the essence of Boy's favorite game, leaf collecting. Mom and dad always refused to buy us toys, which didn't seem to bother Boy or I, at least just until I bloomed a great interest towards reading, which started when I was about 4. I was self taught, since I hadn't started school until 2nd grade. My parents don't believe in either of us having a quality education, coming from their motto messily engraved into the kitchen cabinet, "We rely on nothing but beer and drug dealers." Deep, isn't it?

I went into my bedroom, suddenly forgetting about Boy's absurd hobby, and was snapped out of my daydream by a sudden pain and crunch under my foot, and the sound of a wailing two year old, from the loss of two of his leaves. Before mom and dad could notice enough to scold us, I picked him up, cradling him in my arms. "Hussshhh, hush before mom and dad come upstairs. It'll be okay." That always quiets him down, with the threat of our parents. Just wait 'til he's older, when I'm not here to take the blame anymore.