I'm Just A Kid

I woke up extra early that Tuesday.
5:36 to be exact.
I sat up in bed, thinking about how my day might go. I wasn't going to Grandma's house that day, but I had to go to Jordan's.
I had stayed up until about 1 in the morning, trying to perfect my Thesis for my report, and even though I wasn't fully happy with it, I chose to go to bed.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to get out of bed, or just lay there for another hour.
The house was silent. Mother didn't get out of bed until 8, and I had no idea when Father did, or what his schedule was that week.
I suddenly got out of bed and went to my computer, I shook the mouse and sat in my chair.
I opened a new Microsoft Word and started typing, whatever came to mind.
The Counselor at school had asked me to write a story. A story about me, and me meeting my parents for the first time, after all these years. He also asked me to write out any questions I would ask them when the time came for me to finding them. I had always put off writing the story... I never knew where to start. The Questions. I had to excuse for not writing the questions, I just never wanted to think about it I guess.
Whenever I was alone, I would always think about things I never wanted to think about. I thought about my real parents, I wondered about wither or not I could have other siblings, what would've happened if I was adopted into a different home, or never even put up for adoption.
I let my mind wonder. Coming up with the most ridiculous answers. I loved creating stories, using my imagination which was so great in size. Even when I was younger, I would write out plays and try having the rest of my family act them out for me. Most of the time they wouldn't do it, but I knew it wasn't because of my writing.
I was tired of typing and saved what I had wrote so far.
I turned my monitor off and grabbed Inkspell from off my chair. I also grabbed my purple Scooby-Doo blanket from the back of the chair and opened my bedroom door.
It was getting light outside, making it easier to see inside. I slowly walked into the washroom, unlocked the door, and stepped outside.
I loved reading outside, but I didn't get the chance to often. Most of my reading happened on the bus, or in the back of the classroom.
It was cool outside, but I knew that I would eventually become cold. I sat on the top step and set down Inkspell, I took my blanket and put it around me, the way a superhero would their cape. I sat down and opened the book to my Kakashi bookmark.
When I read, I'm in a whole different world. All the noise around me disappears, and in this case, I travel to the Inkworld.
Dustfinger, my favorite character in the book. A fire-eater, he plays with the fire, he calls it with a snap of his fingers or either his voice.
One of my chores that I got when my brother moved out was taking out and burning what we called “the burn.” We kept a paper bag under our stove and put cardboard in it, when it was full, that's when I would burn it.
Father kept his matches in his pocket, and by the fireplace.
I began playing with fire in the 4th grade, I was never scared that I would get burned.
Grandma told me that when I was younger, when Father and Mother were working, I would stay at her house. I would always want to help her in the kitchen, and one day I simply just placed my hand on the hot burner, of course burning it. My family thought I would grow up scared of being in the kitchen, but I loved it.
It was getting lighter and lighter outside every time I would pause and look up from my book. I knew I would have to get ready for school soon, but I pushed it to the back of my mind and focused on my book.
Father would be walking into my room to wake me up soon. I knew he would be mad when he saw I wasn't in bed, or even in the house.
I finished chapter 18 and stuck the Kakashi bookmark on page 179. I sat on the step, looking at the trees sway back and fourth. When I was younger Grandma would tell me the trees were dancing, dancing along with the wind. The best thing about her telling me that was... I believed her. I had a great imagination.
I heard the house door open and immediately turned my head to see Father in the doorway. “What in the hell are you doing out here!” he yelled at me. “I was reading.” I responded calmly, wasn't it obvious, I had a book in my lap.
“Get in the house.” he told me angrily. I stood up and fixed my blanket around me.
He was in the doorway and wouldn't move. “You kinda have to move so I can get inside.” I told him as I looked into his eyes. “Watch your tone with me.” he responded, I could tell he wasn't happy. I wasn't in the best mood either, thanks to him. I slowly moved closer to his face. “Move.” I whispered loudly. He didn't respond, nor did he move. I was tempted to just try to push him out of my way, but it probably wouldn't work.
“I'm not going to say 'please'” I told him. Before I could think of saying anything else he slapped my face, almost making me fall to my left. I moved my leg and caught myself.
It immediately started to sting, but I wasn't about to cry, he would probably just do it again. “Be polite.” he told me.
The inside of my mouth hurt, like something jabbed me. I had probably bit my cheek.
I swallowed hard and started to breath through my nose again. If I was Dustfinger I would've just made him catch fire and walk away.
“You're a real bastard ya know, all of this abuse is gonna come and bite you in the ass one day.” I told him, as I wiped my cheek. I didn't want him to think I was kidding. Eventually I would break, and maybe even kill the bastard.

That would be the best day of my life.

I stood there in pain, while he probably stood in satisfaction.
“It's seven, go get ready, I'm driving you to school today.” he said somewhat apologetically, moving away from the doorway so I could finally step inside. I rolled my eyes and walked past him, getting ready to slap him if he attempted to touch me.
“I'd rather ride the bus.” I said quietly as I walked past him. “Too bad.” he replied as he started to walk back inside behind me.
I turned left; walked into my room and closed the door.
I sighed as I grabbed my dark blue and black plaid skinny jeans and my white and black faded tank top from my messy floor.
I got dressed and didn't bother doing my hair, it was straight already. I found my hairspray and sprayed it on my bangs, taking my fingers and messing it up.
Father was silent in the house. He was probably just sitting at his desk waiting for me to finish getting ready. I was alright with him taking me to school, but still... I would rather take the bus.
I wasn't sure why he would want to take me to school, at first I was scared, but then I was curious.
I took one last look at myself in the mirror and opened my bedroom door. I looked around the corner to see if Father was there, and of course he was playing online poker. “I'm ready.” I said quietly, somewhat like I was mad at him for taking me to school. He looked at me for a while, then back at the screen. He stood up and pushed in the chair, “Let's go.”