A New Arrangement

Sunrise.

I always stay up until I see the sun rise. I guess that means that I stay up to watch the sun set and to watch it rise. I watch it to see the beginning of each day, and in seeing the beginning I see the end as well. I’ve seen it rise, I go to sleep.

I get up realizing that in the short time that I slept, the surprising amount of content that my dream had managed to squeeze in was the only thing tricking me into thinking that my sleeping habits are healthy.

I put on the outfit that I picked out yesterday.

Black jeans, white shirt, black cardigan, yellow shoes, peace necklace.

It’s going to be a bland day with a little splash of excitement, and hopefully no war, according to my choice of outfit today. It’s always been this way for me: I pick out the clothes, shoes, accessories, whatever you can think of, according to how I think my day is going to be. And most of the time, it works. So could the conclusion be that I picked a dominantly bland day for myself? Maybe. Let’s find out.

I go downstairs. I see my father sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper covering everything about his upper half except for his hands. I silent the urge to laugh at the ridiculously posed position of my father. I look over to my mom who is cooking something that smells like sausages, and my nose shies away from the smell just like it always does. My mother, always trying to get me to eat meat.

And this is how my mornings are.

“Good morning family!” I say, trying to sound convincing about the potential goodness of this morning. And just as I finish my chipper greeting, I hear my twin brother clomping down the stars behind me. I wait for it, and as if on cue, he pushes his way past the slim body that is blocking the stairs and goes about his morning ritual. Just as I am.

He goes to my mother, he kisses her on the cheek, he grabs a sausage from the burning skillet and waits for my mother to scold him and swat him away. With half of the sausage sticking out of his mouth, he notices me standing at the foot of the stairs as if it is in fact the first time that he’s noticed me.

“Kalailee, you’re so small that I didn’t even notice you standing there.” He grins at me, like I should be laughing as if I haven’t heard this line used before.

“Then you must need glasses Kaden.”

“You should come up with better come backs, sis. You know my vision is perfecto!”

I sigh as my chipper mood becomes hard to maintain, “Maybe you should say something more clever than what you always say when you bump into me every morning.”

“Touché,” he says, still smiling, “Do you want to drive today?”

I shrug and nod at him as I walk into the living room to check the local news station. I grab the remote, I turn the TV on, and I wait to hear that something utterly fantastic has decided to strike our little town.

Nothing. Nothing except for a 7 year old that missed the school bus and went missing for 9 hours because no one thought to check the park next to the school. I click off the TV just as my brother yells for me hurry up and get into the car. For some reason, he appreciates getting to school early.

I walk outside, and my brother is already in the car. I get into the driver’s seat and start the car while he fumbles to get a CD out for the 10 minute ride to the school. A mix CD, one of my mix CDs…which means he’s trying to make me happy.

When we pull out of the driveway, the movement of his whole face towards the side of mine shows me that I am right.

“So Kalailee…”

I look at him briefly from the corner of my eye and raise my eyebrow slightly, “Yes Kaden?”

“Can I use the car this weekend?”

I let out an exasperated sigh, and I see the corners of his mouth turn down, “Kaden, you know that I’m going up to New York this weekend. And I’m driving myself there. We already talked about this…I told you about it a month ago so this wouldn’t happen.”

He turns his face away from me, “Can’t you just take a bus or something? I really need it.”

“For what?”

“There’s a show down in florida and I-”

I cut him off, “A show? A show?” I say in disbelief. “You expect me to give up the trip to New York that I’ve been planning for a month so that you can go to a show? No fucking way. Why don’t you take a bus?

“C’mon Kalay,” I can practically taste the whining pouring from his vocal chords, “You know I can’t take the guys on a bus…they’ll get into some kind of trouble. They always do.”

“oh, so it’s the guys now huh? Not just you? What did you do, promise them?”

His silence answers my question.

“You’re an idiot Kaden. And I bet you thought I’d give in didn’t you? The twin telepathy thing does kind of work you know; I know how you think, and you’re wrong. I’m going to New York this weekend, and I’m taking the car.” I stated it in the most authoritative tone that I could muster up.

Kaden is quiet for the rest of the trip, and when we park, he is halfway to the front door of the school before I am even out of the car. It doesn’t bother me; I know he’ll be my best friend again once we go to lunch. I walk away from our car towards the school, and I take in the mobs of people that surround the front grounds. My school is really fucked up with its groups. You know those fictitious stories about people who all look the same, act the same, eat the same, smell the same, who knows maybe they dream the same. Those fictious groups make up most of my school, and I am glad to not be a part of one of these, I like to call them, cults.

I’m not a loner or anything, no; I belong to a mixed group of people. I hang around the few people that think like me, one of them being my brother. The others being Jimmy, Rilla, Cillian, and Sumner. If you add Kaden and I, there are six of us. Three boys and three girls.

I walk to the front door and make my way to the locker that has been mine for all of the 3 and a half years that I have been here. I open it quickly only to have it slammed shut before I can stick my hand into it. I look to where the locker-slamming hand came from and I’m met with the smiling face of Cillian McKee.

“How the hell are you?” He says happily, and I am reminded of my happy greeting that got no answer this morning.

I smile back, “I’m a whole hell of a lot of good on this fine morning Cillian. But I’m going to have to slam your face inside of my locker if you do that again.”

Cillian widens his eyes in mock horror as I bring up my hand to push him lightly before using it to open my locker again.

“So get this,” I say, “Kaden tried to get me to let him have the car this weekend because the guys want it. And apparently the guys can’t take the bus because they’ll get into too much trouble.”

I finish taking all that I need from my locker and close it before staring accusingly at Cillian.

The only thing he does is give me a goofy grin before replying, “You know us Kalay.”

I lean on my locker as I wait for him to continue, “Last time we were on a bus, Jimmy started fucking smoking and you know how I am with peer pressure.” He turns to me and gives me his famous innocent face.

I try to keep a straight face and we begin to walk to our first class.

“You guys are dumb, honestly. If you really wanted to go some place you wouldn’t smoke on the damn bus.”

“Uh, we’ve all seen Jimmy when he can’t get a cigg Kalay.” He says matter of factly.

“What’s so important about going to florida anyway?” I ask.

“Good bands are playing.”

“And you didn’t invite me because…”

“You’re going to New York.”

“Exactly!” I yell a little too loudly, “I’m going to New York…with the car!”

We make it to our class and sit down in our usual seats on the left side of the middle row. I pull out my homework and notice that Cillian is making no movements to take out his own. I laugh quietly to myself, but loudly enough that Cillian can hear me.

He eyes me bitterly, “You think it’s funny that I’m failing U.S. History, huh?”

I cover my mouth in surprise, “Why, no Cillian! I was merely laughing at the butterfly on the wall over there.”

I watch as Cillian’s head turns slightly to look at the wall, but he stops himself before the complete turn takes place. I stifle my laughter once again, “I almost got you again!” I point at him and smile.

“I’m getting better. You screwed up on that one though; why the fuck would someone laugh at a butterfly on the wall.”

“Maybe if it was a polka dotted one with a clown head.”

“Now, if you had said that, I would have looked.”

I start laughing as more people start piling into the room. The bell rings; the teacher walks in last and class begins. Mr. Yokey starts off by collecting the homework that Cillian doesn’t have. Then he calls roll, and just as he is about to call Beatrix Henderson’s name, the clock of an opening door turns my attention away from the window. Everyone’s eyes are on the figure that walks through the door.

Mr. Yokey eyes the new student, “And what’s your name young man?”

His mouth opens up for one simple sound, “Ollie.”

And everyone’s eyes are still focused on him.