I wake up having to notice my head is on the foot of my bed and my feet on my headboard.

I grunted and pushed myself off the bed and looked at my bedside table clock.

7:30 am

Another grunt.

Stupid clock. I thought and flopped back to my pillow.

When I got my head straight I jumped from my bed and ran to my washroom.

Shit. Shit. I'm fucking late for school. Shit! I thought in panic while I rushed through brushing my hair.

"Mom?" I screamed from my bathroom.

When no one answered I assumed she's downstairs already preparing my breakfast.

I screamed again "Mom!"

For an answer I got a knock on my bathroom door.

"Yes sweetie?" mom's voice came from the other side of the door.

I opened the door to look at her, "Where'd you put my eyeliner?" I asked.

"I didn't use it sweetie." She turned to go.

"Where could I hide my stuff so they won't walk away." I mutter to myself.

"Check your bag. I'm sure it's somewhere there. Look with your eyes darling, not with your mouth." I rolled my eyes at the saying.

Dad used to say that all the time when I lost something and I go and scream to him for help.

"Use your eyes my sweet, not your mouth. Don't scream too much my darling or you'll lose your voice." He warned while keeping his eyes on the paper sitting on our old armchair.

That was before when mom and dad were still together. When dad was still living with us. When dad still loved us.

I mean yeah, dad still loves us but now he's dating this preppy chic that when you talk 2 her it seems like talking to a brick wall.


That evil bitch has ruined my family. My whole life. Dad has been dating her long enough that at no time soon he's going to engage to her.

Wouldn't that make her stupid brain jump? I thought obnoxiously.

I reached for my toothbrush and toothpaste. I squeezed the toothpaste bottle angrily in the thought of Tara.

Stupid bitch.

At my anger I almost splat myself with toothpaste.

As soon as I finished brushing my teeth I ran to my bag and rummaged for my eyeliner.

"Hallelujah." I said as I raised my eyeliner in success.

"Sweetie! Almost time to go!" mom shouted from downstairs.

"Shit!" I jumped to my mirror and applied my eyeliner, blush, and eye shadow.

After all that I went to my full length mirror and stepped back.

Black, black, black and black on pale white skin.

I've always complained about my skin colour. If you compared me to a white sheet of paper, I bet my skin would win.

"Sweetie!" mom shouted.

"Coming! Mom you can go I can drive!" I shouted back grabbing my bag.

I head down the stairs, as soon as mom saw me and my outfit she commented, "Oh dear. You look like you're going to a funeral dear."

My twin brother, Brock looks at me and mutters "Creeptomania." And heads out the door.

"Ew. What the hell are you wearing?" my sister, Ivana said putting on her cheerleading shoes.

"Keep your comments to yourself dumbo and dumbee." I say putting on my normal shoes.

Gosh. At least I don't bring many pairs of shoes to school that my locker is over flowing with them. And I don't bring CDs that gets confiscated every time I boast 'bout it. I thought.

"You guys getting in my car?" Brock asked.

"No. Ew. I'm going with Rose." Ivana says.

"Brock, go with your sisters. Rose's driving. Don't use all three cars. Plus we need to save money." Mom reasoned.

"What for? We're loaded. And dad pays for the cars and he doesn't mind." Ivana says.

"Well your dad needs the money for his—." Mom paused "for something." She mumbles after a few seconds.

"Mom?" Ivana says in her non-compliant voice.

"Yes baby?" mom answered.

"Is daddy getting married?" she asks.

"Oh well—Look at the time! You're late. I'll answer your question later at dinner. I might be late. Okay? Bye kids! Stay in school! Do well!" mom said hurrying to her car and I could tell she was rushing to turn the car on.

"C'mon Ivana. Do you really think that dad would get married without telling us?" Brock said going down the porch heading to the backseat.

"Open the damn car Rose." He ordered. I pressed unlock on my keys without a fight. For once.

"Let's go Ivana." I said leading her to the car. "Dad won't ever do that. You know he doesn't keep secrets." Unless it's about his marriage with Tara.

I know that Tara and dad are getting married because mom cried about it to me when she found out.

I don't know why mom is still hurt. I mean it's almost been two years since the divorce. But I could just imagine being in her place, I mean I would be devastated too if my husband—which I'm not planning to get one any time soon, or any time at all—were to get married again and has been the first one to know about it.

"Get in the fucking car Rose. We're gonna be late!" Brock shouted from inside the car.

"Oh right I'm sorry. I was deep in thought."

"Well save the thought and think about it when we get to school." He's probably cranky because dad's getting married. Not that he knows that.

I started the car and backed up from the driveway.

As soon as I was on the road time just flew by.

"Ivana call me later to see if you have cheerleading practice okay?" I say as I got out of the car.

"Okay." She said glumly.

"Don't be like that. I thought cheerleaders are supposed to be fucking pretty and preppy. You ain't preppy or pretty." She scowled at my comment. "There you go." I laughed.

"And as for you Mr. Grumpy, talk to you at lunch, hey don't forget your extended math lessons today."

"Yes mom." He muttered and walked towards the school doors.

I laughed at that joke.

My aunts and uncles used to joke that I looked just like mom when I was young. But really that was when I was 10. I'm now 16 and look more like my dad. I have my dad's charms. Fine smile, green eyes, pale skin—grunt—, average height, I also have dad's brains. Dad loves poetry, he got me into writing poetry when I was 6. He loves writing poetry for mom; everyday she would find a piece of paper either in her bag or on the kitchen counter. I guess that's what mom fell in love with. The poetry…and the other charms too. But a lot on the poetry. Now that I look more like dad, it gets harder and harder for mom to look at me everyday. Mom used to hover around me when they were still together. I attracted her most because I looked like dad, now that she can't even bear to look at her wedding rings, or pictures of dad on our past birthdays, let alone look at me.

"Rose!" my friend Paul called over. "Over here!" he said flaming his arms around like a maniac.

I laughed.

"Hey Paul." I said when I reached him.

"You look—wow." He said looking in my eyes.

"Haha funny." I said sarcastically and narrowed my eyes

"No really."

"No. Really. Funny."

"You don't believe me? Then why exactly is Peter checkin' you out girl?" he said rising his eyebrows.

"What?! Where?!" I said looking around for Peter.

"That got your attention." He said and cleared his throat when he saw my expression on his pathetic mean joke. "Well anyways. There's a party at 4:00 today. If you wanna come that is." He said.

"Nah. Can't Brock has a game."

"Hey that's alright. I'll come with you to the game." He said.

"Are you actually gonna go to the game and pay attention? Or are you just going just to have alone time with me?" I joked.

He thought about it for a minute as jokes and said, "Both." And we burst out laughing.

"C'mon before you get anymore ideas on dropping me off home." I said rolling my eyes and taking Paul by the arm and pulled him over closer to the group where Peter was but far enough so that Paul won't notice what I did.

"So. Tomorrow…what are you up to?" Paul asked rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand and his right hand in his pocket.

"Is Paul Hale trying to ask me out?" I asked with a grin on my face.

"Well. If you put it that way—."

"How's the ice cream parlour sound?" I asked.

"Perfect!" he said and hugged me.

"Paul. I'm not agreeing to marry you or anything am I?" I joked still in his bear hug.

"Nah. That comes after months and months of dating. Which I am sure of you will happen my darling." He said wagging his eyebrows at me.

I laughed.

"One day my dear I will be your second husband." He said as we walked through the halls to my locker and his.

"Why? What happened to my first husband?" I asked.

"Oh. Him. He's gonna get shot." He said as innocently as he could.

I laughed and said, "Oh Paul. Please don't kill my husband."

"Don't worry I won't commit suicide." He said and that only made me laugh more.