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The horrendous sound of my phone alarm blared into my ear, jolting me from my sleep. I gasped, sitting up in my bed, my hair falling over my face and covering my eyes.
With a groan, I combed my hair back, clearing my vision so that I could come to my senses.
I darted my gaze to my nightstand, where my phone lit up with the time; 6:00 am. The thing vibrated obnoxiously, blaring away much to my annoyance. I was tempted to throw it across the room.
But then again, I needed the thing, destroying it would have been dumb.
So acting like the calm person I was, I reached across to the nightstand and swiped dismiss. I hopped out of bed, stretching my limbs and yawning once my feet touched the floor.
A whip of air caressed my bare skin. I glanced down at myself and saw that my gray tank-top had bunched up, exposing my abdomen. My shorts had ridden up to my mid-thigh, exposing my lower curves. I fixed my tank top over my stomach and my shorts down below my thighs, over my ass.
My morning started off with a warm shower, washing my hair in the process. I got out when I was done, drying my body. Then I blow-dried my hair and brushed it. After my hair was dry, I went back into my room and pulled some clothes on.
Some black jeggings, a white crop top, a black, semi-thick wool cardigan, and a pair of white sneakers. I slipped some gold jewelry on before I returned to the bathroom. I stepped in front of the mirror, my chocolate brown eyes staring back at me.
My eyes scanned the rest of my features; a heart-shaped face, and thin lips. My button nose, my natural black corkscrew hair that touched my shoulders, and my caramel-toned skin. There were no pimples or gross zits, surprisingly - everything seemed good so far.
I took my makeup bag from my drawer under the bathroom sink. I grabbed my mascara, applying it to my stubby lashes to make them appear longer, and more feminine. After that, I exchanged it for some lip gloss. I applied a good coat for my lips to make them pop.
Placing my makeup bag where it belonged, I closed the drawer. I took one last cursory glance at my appearance, double-checking my hair before I turned off the lights and walked out.
I grabbed my bag by the closet and my jacket. Stepping out of my room, I closed the door behind me.
“Mornin’ Dad,” I greeted as I walked into the kitchen.
“Well, good morning my daughter with manners,” he said as he glanced directly at my identical twin sister, emphasizing with his eyes.
She was sitting down on a barstool around the island eating some bacon that was between her fingers. Her phone was in her other hand, tapping on the screen.
“I get it Dad, I learned my lesson,” she muttered under breath, rolling her eyes.
“Not this again,” I sighed as I walked by her, taking a seat on the barstool next to her. I dropped my bag next to my feet, dropping my jacket on top of it.
“Here you go sweetheart,” my Dad said as he slid my breakfast in front of me.
Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast stared up at me. The steam from the plate slowly rose, dancing as the light beamed through. “Thanks, Dad,” I smiled at him as I picked up my fork.
“Favorites, favorites...tsk, tsk, tsk,” my sister began, taking her eyes off her phone for the first time since I entered. She glanced over to Dad who lifted a brow, “I don’t say good morning this one time,” she mocked as she shook her head.
I laughed, popping a piece of bacon into my mouth. “Oh, hush, I love you both equally and you know that,” he scoffed as he rolled his baby blue eyes, waving his hand around dismissively.
He picked up his red, metallic thermos flask off the counter, and then he reached down to the floor. He stood up with his briefcase in hand and his suit jacket slung over his arm.
I took a brief moment to view his work attire - a suit jacket that was navy blue, and his dress pants as well. The dress shirt was white, and the long tie hung from around his neck was a deep red. Finally, his midnight-black hair that was gelled back, emphasizing his eyes and freckles all over his cheeks.
My Dad was a lawyer, which explained what he was wearing. He was the type of lawyer that worked for the state; a defense state attorney. He was a good lawyer, great at his job. There were a handful of cases he had won which made him a bit infamous around the town we lived in.
My dad was always a joyous man who rarely frowned. He was light-hearted, he knew how to put a smile on just anyone’s face, but he was also a firm guy.
Meaning he was a little strict with us, serious when he wanted to be. A little scary, honestly. One look was all it took for us to say, ‘Yes sir.’
But despite being a little strict, he never really yelled at us, and was a calm and collected person. The type of parent who didn’t really believe in yelling to get kids to behave.
He would rather punish us by grounding us, he handed those out so religiously that it wasn’t even funny. The last time he punished us was for swearing in front of him - something that we did unconsciously.
First it was me, and then my sister the next day. And it was fucking hilarious.
Before that, he thought we were little angels, little saints. But news flash for him, both his daughters were potty mouths.
He told us we were just like our Mom, he said she used to swear like a sailor, that she had no filter.
“I don’t know why you’re worried about favorites. The only favorite I should pick is me, I do all the work,” he stated as he shoved his hand into his dress pants pocket, digging through, “If anything you two should be making your own breakfast.”
He pulled his fist from his pocket, scrunching his nose up. He opened his fist to reveal a dollar in his palm. “So we’re still your favorites?” I asked as I formed a small smile on my lips.
“Nah,” he said as he shook his head, sighing and crinkling his forehead.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” said my sister sarcastically.
Dad chuckled as he walked over to us, he shoved the dollar back into his pants pocket before he stepped between our barstools.
“Alexa,” he said as he gently placed a hand on my sister's shoulder, then he turned to me.
He removed his hand from Alexa's shoulder only to gently place his hand on my shoulder, then he said, “Alexis; I’m not here. Leftovers are in the fridge, I’m not cooking tonight.”
He kissed our foreheads and then he ruffled our hair much to our annoyance. He stepped away from us and walked around the island. “Enjoy your first day being seniors, girls, good luck!” he said, waving as he walked out of the kitchen.
“Bye, Dad!” we simultaneously replied.
Woah there, what the hell?
Alexa and I quickly turned to each other, scrunching up our noses, visibly cringing. “Ew, let’s not do that again,” she said.
“Agreed,” I said with a slight nod.
We found it weird how we did that sometimes, how we finished each other’s sentences, that weird twin shit. It always freaked us out, made us cringe.
Why? Because we were two different people, two halves that looked alike but opposite. We weren’t into doing the same shit.
She was an extraverted, party-goer, people person, and social media queen. She had freckles and she wore glasses. I didn’t have freckles nor did I wear glasses. I was in between being an introvert and an extrovert, the weirdo, kept to myself, the um...the short one.
(But by an inch though).
So yeah, that was us in a nutshell, complete opposites.
Alexa went back to tapping on her phone and trying to finish the piece of bacon she was picking at. The light from her phone reflected onto her large lense glasses, giving a small projected image of what was on her screen.
It looked like she was texting someone, small yellow blobs appeared.
“Are you texting Carlos?” I asked, poking her arm.
A smirk curled on my lips when her eyes darted to me. She narrowed her eyes and faced her phone down. “No, it’s Latoya,” she replied.
“Mhmm, that’s what you always say." I leaned closer to her, widening my smirk, poked her forearm with my index finger. “I see them emojis.”
Carlos was one of her best friends and the guy she had a crush on, but she didn’t want to admit it. Latoya was her other best friend who she used as an excuse to cover up texting Carlos.
She rolled her eyes with a scoff, then she lifted her hand and swatted away mine. “Oh my god, go away,” she groaned.
“You can’t keep denying it,” I jeered playfully as I dropped my gaze to my plate, “You know you like him.”
I scraped up some of the scrambled eggs onto my fork and shoveled some into my mouth. “For the love of God, he’s my best friend and it’s... weird."
I heard a little squeak in her voice, it made my eyes dart to her. There she was all flushed, her ears were red, brown eyes as wide as a deer’s caught in the headlights, and a pout on her lips.
My smirk never left my face, I gave her that stupid look, that look I knew would get smacked for. But I didn’t give two shits, teasing her was fun. “He’s my best friend and it’s weird,” I playfully imitated her voice.
She balled up her fist and then she jabbed it into my forearm. "Ouch." A sore feeling throbbed in my arm, but kept snickering at the annoyance she wore. It was as if smoke was coming out of her nose and ears.
“You know what? For that I’m leaving your ass,” she said through gritted teeth.
She slid from her bar stool, grabbing her empty plate. “But you know can’t." A laugh erupted through me when she flipped me off, her eyes shot a glare, a mean mug.
Alexa and shared a car since Dad said he couldn’t afford another and he wanted us to share. He also said it was an opportunity to get closer as siblings. Blah, blah, blah.
Not trying to be a brat here or anything but bullshit, why did we need to do that? Alexa and I were fine without each other. She didn’t touch my shit, I didn’t touch hers. She didn’t come into my room, I didn’t come into hers. Having two separate cars would have been more efficient to prevent arguments about each other’s territories.
Less chaos, less noise for Dad’s ears.
Sorry Dad, but your plan blows.
After I finished my plate, I did the dishes since Alexa didn’t want to do them and I lost to her at rock, paper, scissors. (Personally and obviously I think she cheated but whatever). We grabbed our things after I was done and headed out through the front door.
Where are they? The bell’s about to ring.
I stood by my locker looking into the crowd, waiting for my friends. They’d always meet me and we’d usually hang out there all morning. They even texted me in the group chat saying they were gonna be there, but I had been waiting for more than twenty minutes; class was about to start.
Not a familiar face in sight, nothing, no sign of them. There were so many heads, so many bodies. So damn packed that it was impossible for even light to beam through. Like a concert, packed but smaller. No performer but there was music, usually bad taste blasting from some kid's speaker.
Every year was just the same.
I would have gone in if the crowd wasn't as thick as it was. Didn’t want to get crushed or tossed around on the first day again. Worst, to unwillingly smell someone who didn't practice personal hygiene. I learnt my lesson freshman year - didn’t want to repeat it.
My only option was to stand there and wait. Bad idea.
Why? Because standing there only made me an easy target, vulnerable. The vultures of Ridgewood high were lurking near, waiting for a perfect time. The football team, the populars and the mean slutty duo, had a raging hunger for trouble.
Alexa left me right the minute she found her friends, the social queen even got greeted by everyone she walked by. I didn’t even do much and I was drawing attention. I got a few snickers and whispers about my height and how puberty didn’t treat me well. As if I had a sign on my forehead saying 'short weirdo, come pick on me'.
What a way to start my last year, what way.
“Riiiiiing!!” the bell’s annoying cry echoed.
“Well, at least no one bothered me as much as I expected,” I muttered to myself.
I released a sigh through my nose, giving up my search. I shoved my hand into my jacket pocket and fished out the folded paper meant to be my schedule. I opened it out and began reading the untidily organized classes.
Someone’s getting fired
Room 223, Algebra II, it said. My legs began to move on their own, moving toward the crowd that was clearing up conveniently.
As I navigated through the sea of people, I multi- tasked, trying to decipher my schedule. “I thought I was done with history.” I eyed the paper in confusion, scrunching up my nose.
"Damn." I was about to look up from the paper, when suddenly my body collided with something hard.
I lost my balance, toppling over onto my ass. My schedule fell out of my hands, feathering down weightlessly, side to side to the floor.
I groaned as a pain shot through my bum, throbbing, with a sore feeling. For a hot second I thought I broke something. “Are you fuckin’ blind? Watch where you’re going,” someone snapped.
The fuck? Who the hell do you think you are?
A pair of legs stood in front of me, long legs. Lifting my gaze, I was met with a pair of icy, thundering, blue orbs. Ones that belonged to the bad boy.
I changed a lot, I know but it was for the best. What do you guys think of this version? Give me your feedback.
Luv ya, hugs and kisses.