Love at First Cut...? Excuse Me, but I'm So Not Your Bloodmate

How does one sum up school?

Horrible cafeteria food, rude people that bump you in the hallways without apologizing. Let’s see: Oh, can’t forget the annoying teacher’s who act like constant talking will be the death of them.

I never quiet understood school. To me, school was like a prison, or dictatorship. Why can’t we keep soda’s in the classroom’s with tiles? No one had explained that to me. Or why you’ll get in trouble for short clothes. If boy’s are looking at you, that’s their problem. Not yours. Or how now-a-days they can suspend you for what you put on your PERSONAL facebook page. Then there’s the fact that teacher’s can basically send you to detention for no specific reason.

Which is where I’m at now. Detention.

Because I was chewing gum.

It’s not dangerous to chew gum. It’s just a stupid pet peeve of the teacher’s.

Unfair you say? Yeah, well life tends to be unfair.

Sighing, I lounged my head against the cool feel of the desk.

It sent slight shivers down my spine, and I sighed deeply, causing a fog to appear on the marble top.

“Ms. Jean, do you promise not to chew gum in class anymore?” My annoying Chemistry teacher nagged.

“Sure.” I breathed.

“Well then, you may go.” She nodded once, sternly letting me off the hook.

I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I grabbed it, wanting to giggle out loud with the funny feeling it made on my butt cheek.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey sweety. I’m picking you up from school, so if you would, just swing around to the side of the school where those red benches are and I will pick you up.” My mom’s down-to-earth voice rang in my ears.

“Ok. Are you outside the gym?” I questioned.

“Yea. I said the red benches!” She complained.

“I know, I was just making sure!” I defended.

The line cut off and I just rolled my eyes.

Teenage girls and their mothers is a toxic situation.

But I loved them, secretly. I’d rather die then admit that though.

I shoved the phone back into my back pocket, and flip-flopped down the breezeway.

Eventually, I saw the red SUV pull up next to the main building.

“Hey sweetie, hop on in.” My mom instructed, patting the car seat beside her. I gave her a warm smile and shifted into the passenger’s seat.

“Why’d you have to stay late after school?” She said, looking behind her to check for cars.

I gulped; I never enjoyed having to tell my mother about detention. She was one of those “YOU HAVE TO BE AN OVERACHIEVER” parents. But maybe I’d get lucky.

“I uh… got detention.” My eyes never dared to meet hers; instead they shifted dizzily to all the passing cars.

“WHAT? Why!?”

“Geesh mom, I’m a rebellious teenager, I’m supposed to get detention.” Moms completely overreact. It’s like if we get one detention we might as well of killed half the human race, and gotten pregnant.

“No. You’re SUPPOSED to eat your vegetables, never should you get detention. Do you hear me young lady?”

Now’s where I do a predictable eye roll.

“Yes mom, vegetables, not detention tables, gotcha.”

“You know, you should be more like Alora.” There it was. Both Sam and I were always being compared to my eldest sister. It just wasn’t fair. It was like I had some character flaw that could instantly be fixed by being my sister’s clone. It makes you wonder… if we’re always compared with perfect Alora, why do Sam and I constantly fight?

Though Sam’s much worse than I. Not only is she the dumb girl all the nerds fight over to help tutor, but she’s the whore of the school as well. Tons of makeup, a new boyfriend every week… wait, there was that one time when her relationship lasted a week and two days. And, I heard once in fourth period that when she was cheering at the football game, she bent over in her cheer uniform, and she had no underwear on. Disturbing? –Yeah, especially when it’s your own sister. The one you use to share juice boxes and jump-rope with, and now all you hear about is how ‘loose’ she is.

And you wonder why I’m the rebellious type. I have to toughen up and defend for one sister, and accept the fact that I’m not ever good enough to be like the other.

“Yeah, we all should just be like Alora shouldn’t we?” I knew I’d regret my harsh tone, but for some reason, I didn’t feel like putting up with her “righteous act”.

“I don’t like your tone!”

“Sorry.” Sorry was all I could say, I didn’t want to fight; not tonight.

“Well then, you need to go straight to your room when we get home and do your homework, you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

**

I fell onto my bed, liking how the bed would poof suddenly, then melt to sculpt the shape of my body.

I really did hate fighting with my mom, but I just felt like she didn’t understand me.

No one really did, besides Stephanie. I was lucky to have her.

But it makes me wonder, doesn’t anyone out there care?