I felt a tug on my arm, “Wake up,” she whispers in my ear.
I threw the blanket over my head, “Five more minute mom.”
She grabs my ear and pulls me up. No mercy. None.
“Okay! Okay! I’m awake,” I shouted, and she let’s go.
“Your SAT is in an hour and a half. You don’t want to be late, right?” She said.
I grumble about something even I don’t understand.
My tired eyes open, to see a bunch of textbooks on my bed. I must have fallen asleep while studying last night. Weird. I thought I was studying on my desk, how did I end up in bed? I stood up, and twirl towards the bathroom, only to hit my head against the wall. “Who put that wall there,” I mumble. I can feel the fresh surface on my skin as I slide down onto the ground.
Mom kicks me on the side of my waist. Not too hard, but it’s not a gentle tap either. Which parent would kick their offsprings? Mine. “I told you not to cram everything into one night. Geez, you are just like your father.”
I inherited my looks of dark brown hair and chocolate eyes from my mom, but many people say I got my dad’s personality. It’s possible. Personality traits are complex, and some research suggests that our characteristics are shaped by both inheritance and environmental factors. Yup. Personality is possibly part hereditary.
After some time, I went on all fours and crawled to the bathroom. When I finished brushing my teeth and washing my face, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. What’s the point in doing my hair? A good brush and hair tie are all I need in my life. Well, unless a handsome, kind, trustworthy wealthy man comes along. I wouldn’t mind putting my hair down for him, or he can hold it for me—his preference.
Walking back to my room, I grabbed a hoodie and wore some socks. My socks don’t even match. I can’t find a matching pair to save my life. Mom says, this is why I’m going to be single for the rest of my life. I said this is the reason why she will always have company for the rest of hers. How ungrateful. I’m doing all of this for her.
When I arrived in the kitchen, the divine scent of waffles hit me. I sat on the counter with a knife and fork. “Waffle. Waffle. Waffle,” I chanted, beating my fists on the counter.
Mom shook her head and threw two waffles on my plate. I gave her a sleepy grinned and stuffed it into my mouth. We sat there, eating waffles and sipping orange juice.
“Raine, you know you don’t have to take the SAT this early,” she said.
“Mom, if I take it now, then I don’t have to take it my junior year. Which means I get more video game time,” I sang. Suffer in sophomore year, flourish in junior. Flourish in unhealthy snacks and mindless games. At least my thumbs will be in its best shape.
She shook her head, knowing my slight obsession with video games. Dad introduced it to me when I was eight, and I’ve been hooked ever since. She should look at the bright side, at least I’m not partying or doing drugs. I mean, the amount of time I spent at home is a bit concerning. I grabbed our empty plates and washed them while mom got ready for work.
Walking towards the cabinets, I stare at the photo of my dad. I clasp my hands together, sending a short prayer and open my eyes. “Dad, guess what? I’m taking the SAT today, wish me luck okay?” I said, kissing the frame.
Dad passed two years ago due to a brain tumor. The doctors said it was odd because he was a regular healthy man, or so they assumed. They discovered it during the late period when it was nearly untreatable, and half a year later, he passed.
“Ready?” Mom asked.
“Yup.” I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door, only to be pulled back. “Mom, what are you doing?” I ask, hearing my bag unzip.
“You need food. The SAT is going to be long,” she said. I rolled my eyes, but she knows I appreciate it. After all, it’s only my mom and me. We have only each other. I cannot imagine my life without her; then again, I never imagined a life without my dad.
I stood there, listening to her stuffed snacks into my backpack. “There, you better eat everything inside,” she said, smacking my butt.
We walked towards the car, and I got knocked over by a little girl, well no, she was the one who fell on the ground. “Ow!”
I squat down and open my mouth only to be cut off. “Angel, are you okay?” A deep cracking voice asks.
My eyes peeked over to see the hottest guy in the world. He had his dark hairstyle nicely and deep brown beamed under the sun. “Muffin, it hurts,” she whined, pouring out her lips.
He pouted and checked her body for any injuries. When he finished checking, he kissed her temple, and I wished I was her. After some time, he glanced at me. “Sorry, she is clumsy,” he said, sending me a seductive smile. This is him. The man I will let my hair down for, or he can hold my hair. Whichever. Hell. I’ll hold his hair.
“I-I-Its okay,” I replied, trying to calm my beating heart. I got to look attractive. Don′t drool over him too much. Play hard to get? I should’ve learned how to flirt.
While I drool over him, I can imagine us dating, getting married, having kids, and growing old together inside an average house with a peach tree in the front. I hate peaches, but he is that attractive.
I watched him as he scooped her up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want ice cream,” she demanded.
“You have to apologize first,” he replied in a stern voice.
She glanced at me. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled and shoved her face back into his broad chest.
“It’s okay,” I replied, still staring at him.
“Sorry, again,” he said.
“Not a problem.” Say something. Something! Anything!