Monday, who doesn't hate Monday? If you don't…then leave because you annoy me. As for me, Monday is the worst day of the week. It means that I have to go back to school. The very thought makes me shudder with terror. Unfortunately, today is Monday and I'm stuck. I have no choice in where I go and what I do. So what was I doing at seven o'clock that morning? Getting up. That has got to be the hardest part of the day. Before you can do anything, you have to get up. I hate it, I really do.
"Dora! Are you up yet?" My mother demanded.
I was half tempted not to answer. Maybe if I didn't answer, she would ignore me and I could drift back to the bliss of sleep. But, as always, I answered, condemning myself to another day in the torture chamber called high school. "I'm working on it!" I yelled.
"Well work harder, I want you down here in a half hour."
What does she think I am, a boy? There is no way that I can properly wake up in a half hour. It takes me close to twenty minutes just to get out of the bed! Right now is one of those few times that I'm thankful that I shower at night. Otherwise, I would be in big trouble. You must always remember one thing. That just happens to be: Never get the Mom mad. If you do…bad things will happen to you. These things can include, but are not limited to: grounding, revoked privileges, no cookies, and death. I may hate Mondays, but I never said I hated life.
It was seven ten when I dragged myself out of bed. I congratulated myself. This was a record. The previous time had been twelve minutes; I had cut it down quite a bit. It was too much effort to lift my feet up all the way so I ended up with a half-shuffling walk that carried me to the bathroom. There is one miracle of the morning…I have the ability to put in two hard contacts without killing my eyes or losing them to the toilet or the sink drain. If that's not impressive, you can just not speak. I don't want to hear it. I'm proud of myself for it and that's all that really matters isn't it. Again, feel free not to disagree.
After the contacts comes the usual, brushing of teeth and washing of face. Now that I am half way awake, I get to shuffle back to my bedroom. I said I was half awake, not full of energy. I don't get that stuff until around three in the afternoon. No comes the joy of choosing my outfit. Unlike other girls who take a half hour at least to choose what they want to wear, it takes me all of five minutes. For today, I choose the always-comfy baggy camo cargo pants, a white wife beater, and the baggy camo army jacket. The shoe of choice just happens to be my DC camo skater shoes. And to top it all off comes the camo crop hat. Hey, I've gotta' look good don't I.
I look at the clock. It tells me that I still have another five minutes to get downstairs. Not half bad if I do say so myself. I grab my black Ryu dragon bag. My mom hates it. She always wanted me to be a girly girl. I always tell her that's why she has Sabrina. I also tell her that she shouldn't have had the audacity to name me Dora and that I'm just doing my duty in rebelling. Needless to say, my mother doesn't go along with this theory. She thinks I just hate her. I tell her that all teenagers hate their parents. Again, she chooses not to believe me. I tell her that's her own risk. As you can tell, my mother and I have very repetitive conversations.
I finally drift slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen where my sister Sabrina sits pretty and eating her food. Sabrina is my twin sister. She and I look nothing alike. She takes after mom; I take after dad. Sabrina is petit and on the lower end of the average height scale. She has a small waist so she can emphasize her hips. She is also that beautiful pale peach that can tan just a little, but doesn't burn. Her hair is long, straight, and blonde. But don't let that fool you; her hair can still hold a curl. Her eyes are those gorgeous forget-me-not blue. She also happens to be a cheerleader, an honor student, student council rep, and oh yeah, she's going to UCLA when she graduates in less than a year.
What about me you ask? I'm tall. Almost as tall as my dad in fact. That makes me about five ten. I chop my hair short for convenience. It is black and very curly. I brush it and not even five minutes later, it has tangles again. Do you understand now why I keep it short? My skin is dark, naturally tanned. My eyes are near black, but now they're getting to be a dark brown. I am not tiny like Sabrina either. I am woman, real curves and all. There was never anything little about me at all, not even when I was a kid. At school, I do well. Though, from how my parents talk, you'd think I was flunking every class. I am not. I actually happen to be the number one student. But does that matter? No! You wanna' know why? Because I'm not Sabrina. I'm unpopular. I'm anti-social. I am me! Ask my parents if that matters.
My mother turned around and sighed. Here we go again. "Why don't you go put on that nice outfit I bought you last week?" My mom asked almost begging.
"No," I growled. "I'm out of bed, but I'm comfy. Don't take that away from my too."
"But Dora sweetie, you could be such a pretty young woman if you'd just make an effort."
"Ha," I barked. "That ain't gonna' happen and you and I both know it. I'm just Sabrina's ant-social, loser sister. That's all I'm ever gonna' be. So why don't you let me enjoy it on my terms."
My mother scowled at me and put her hands on her hips. Not this again. "Dora Louise Lewis! You are not a loser. And you are not just Sabrina's sister. You come from a long line of proud women, now why don't you show it."
I glared at my mother. "I am proud of who I am. I show it every day. I'm the best student in that whole school and it's not good enough for you," I hissed. "So why don't you back off and start realizing and I'm not your little doll and I'm not every going to be your little doll. And my name's not Dora, it's Yayoi."
"I named you Dora for your great-grandmother young lady. Have respect!" My mother snapped.
"You do realize that Dora Thomas hated me," I pointed out. Besides, I already legally changed my name. It's Yayoi Nadine Drake. Not Dora Louise Lewis. Blah! What a name," I muttered.
My mother looked near tears. I wanted to laugh. I didn't feel bad. She had tried to use false guilt on me too many times before. "How could you do such a thing without telling me Dora?"
I sighed. "It's Yayoi," I muttered. "Besides, it's not like I'm not leaving the house this summer or anything. Oh, wait, I am."
"Why do you do this to your mother?" My father asked as he came into the room. He kissed the top of my hat and then went over to where mom stood heaving fake tears.
"Oh we all know that she's not really crying. Besides, this isn't different from any other Monday morning since I turned eighteen.
"She has a point there," Sabrina admitted finally speaking.
"Wow, even Rina agrees with me," I stared at my twin wide eyed. "Did you not get enough sleep?"
Sabrina just laughed. "No, I just came to the realization that you're not going to change Yayoi."
I smiled. "You know Sabrina, for a prep, you're not all that bad." I said mussing her hair. I grabbed a pack of pop tarts for the counter and kissed my dad on the cheek. "See y'all later!" I yelled as I grabbed my keys and left the house.
Now to face Monday.