Crash [Chapter 2]

I wake up to the horrible sound of my alarm going off. The first thought that floods my mind is, “It’s morning. I have to get up. Just great.” The second thought that floods my mind, and takes me over like a tidal wave is, “Oh my gosh, my autobiography!” I reassure myself that I have plenty of time, even though I know that’s not true. As I reluctantly crawl out of bed, I think of what I should wear. Suddenly, my little brother Josh bursts through my door. 1

“Come on Kate, hurry up! Dad cooked us pancakes and Chris said he was gonna eat yours if you didn’t get down here soon!” Josh yells anxiously at me. Josh is the most annoying 8 year old I’ve ever known. I guess he hasn’t even learned the meaning of privacy yet. 2

“Ok, I’m coming! Don’t you know what ‘knock’ means?” I reply to him, annoyed. But he’s already on his way downstairs. 3

I have two brothers, Josh and Chris. Chris is 17. He’s two years older than me, and we’re sort of close, but most of the time he has better things to do than hang out with his 15 year old sister. It’s horrible being stuck in the middle, especially with two brothers. Two of the most annoying brothers in the world, might I add. 4

They’re a team when it comes to making me angry. I know they try their hardest to get me upset. It’s like a game to them. But even though they get me upset all the time, we still get along. Actually, we are pretty close. We have fun together in the summer at the beach. Now that Chris can drive, he takes us all over. Sometimes Chris even drives us to school.5

I'd have to admit, it’s kind of cool to have brothers that take so much time out of their day just for me. Yah, right, who am I kidding? Chris makes me pay him like cab driver to get him to take me to school!6

I pick out my favorite pair of jeans and t-shirt to put on. Then, I scramble downstairs to breakfast. I hurry because I know Chris. He really would eat my pancakes if I didn’t get to them first. 7

I walk into the kitchen and I see dad over at the stove frying sausage. He can cook really well. I love eating his meals because he can cook them like no one else can. Chris and Josh are sitting at the table. Chris is bent over like a pig, inhaling his breakfast. Josh is loosing in a war with his knife. He can’t even cut his pancakes without being obnoxious. 8

“Good morning Kate. What took you so long? I thought I was going to have to feed your breakfast to the dog,” Dad says.9

“Dog?” I ask, “Don’t you mean Chris? Oh yah, sorry, no difference.” I say sarcastically. Chris just looks up at me.10

“You’re funny,” he says with his mouth still full. I rest my case. 11

I sit down and start eating. I’m still thinking about my paper. I’m beginning to come to the conclusion that I’m going to have to make something up. I know that technically speaking could be considered cheating when I’m supposed to be writing an autobiography, but I’ll just use the excuse that I’m not “technically speaking”. I’m getting desperate and I really have no choice. Plus, isn’t that what Mr. Thomas always pushes in our writing, “creative” technique? But what would I make up? It’s 7:00, too early for me to be thinking, so I put it out of my mind for now. Maybe Jenn or Nicky could give me some ideas.12

I finish up eating and put my plate in the sink.13

“Thanks Dad, that was great,” I graciously say. I want to make him feel good because really, the sausage was a little overcooked. Hey, I never said he was a professional chef!14

“No problem. Now get going before you’re late,” he says. Dad has this thing about being late; he can’t stand it. So I grab my bag and walk out the door to wait for the bus. I can’t wait until I can drive so I don’t have to wait for the stupid bus every morning. One more year and I’ll be driving myself everywhere.15

The bus arrives a little later than normal. I get on and sit in my normal seat. I start thinking about my paper again. I can’t help it. I have 15 minutes on a bus and the best thing I have to do is think about writing a stupid paper? That’s pretty sad for me.16

When the bus arrives at school, I see the typical kids in their typical places. Everything always seems the same everyday. Some kid skateboarding on the sidewalk, friends talking and laughing at each others’ jokes, and the principal yelling at the same kid as yesterday. Nothing new ever goes on around here. It’s all routine, and I’m a little sick of it. I don’t know why, I just am. 17

“Here we go,” I say to myself, “Just another day at school.” And I head toward the entrance.18