Coffee and Cigarettes

"Hurry up, I need to use the bathroom!" I seethed at my older sister Blair through a closed door. Which, in reality, did me no good, but it didn't really matter, because she was taking too long to get ready and I had to pee!

She finally stepped out of the bathroom and rolled her eyes. "Lighten up, Morgan. I was only in there for five minutes."

I rolled my eyes right back at her. "That was not five minutes. What constitutes five minutes is the five-time simultaneous repetition of sixty seconds. That was five minutes, plus another forty."

It was as if we were having an eye-rolling competition, because there she went again. "Just because you're a nerd doesn't mean that you have to bore me with your huge vocabulary."

"And I'm sorry that you don't know words with more than three syllables," I snapped.

"The word 'vocabulary' has four!"

"Five, you idiot!" I screamed. "Get out of my way." I shoved her aside and slammed the door to the bathroom behind me. I heard Blair bitching to our even older brother Bob about how I was being "difficult, and I think she might be on her period." I rapidly brushed my teeth, applied some chapstick, and bolted out the door.

As I was running to my front door, I seemed to collide with something that was solid, yet also sort of squishy. I looked up and saw my older brother grinning down at me.

"Let me go, Bob." I sighed. "I'm meeting Libby for coffee."

"Coffee's bad for you, you're only sixteen."

"And smoking's bad for you, and you're only nineteen," I said smugly. He just shrugged.

"I'm a legal adult."

"Who still lives with his parents."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're not going out dressed like that, are you?"

Confused, I looked down at my outfit. A simple gray hoodie, darkwash jeans and a "I ♥ Nerds" t-shirt. It didn't seem too bad. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked.

"Well," Bob said, going into girl mode, placing a hand on his hip, "That shirt doesn't match those pants, and that hoodie is way too ratty. You look like a hobo."

"I could speak volumes about that beanie and your beard, Bob," I retorted lamely. "Now, let me go."

"Who are you going to go meet?" Bob narrowed his eyes. "No boys!"

I sighed very loudly. "Bob, I already told you, I'm going to get coffee with Libby. Now, next time I tell you something, listen, you numbskull."

I stormed out of my house, not wanting to be anywhere near it. I couldn't stand my sister, I couldn't stand my brother, and I couldn't stand my parents. My sister and parents were understandable, because my sister always pushed me around and my parents smothered me way too much. My brother, however, just annoyed me. But most of the time, it's tolerable. I was just moody.

No, I wasn't on my period. But in my personal opinion, I think I'm pretty close to being bi-polar. Either that, or I just need to calm down and smile more. It was a rare occasion when I actually did smile; there were only a handful of people who could make me do it, and one of them was Libby, my best friend of seven years.

Libby and I had contrasting features--I had long, straight strawberry blond hair that I hated with every fiber of my being, and she had curly dark brown hair that came just past her shoulders. She had dark brown eyes and I had bright blue ones. We were pretty much the same build, though--not supermodel skinny, but not obese either.

I strode into the local coffee shop--no, it wasn't Starbucks. If I lived closer to a Starbucks, then I would've been obese by now. No, the cafe was deemed Collin's Coffee House. It had a nice atmosphere and smelled really nice. It was the coffee. I'm addicted to the stuff.

"Morg, what took you?" Libby asked from our usual table in the nice cozy corner of the cafe.

"Blair and Bob," I growled. "Sorry."

"The B Squad," Libby smirked. "Of course. How's Blair been doing lately, anyway? Still acting all high-and-mighty now that she's eighteen?"

I sighed. "You'd think she was my mother," I replied. "I can't stand her. I swear, one day, I'll snap and rip out every strand of hair from her goddamn scalp."

"And I will be there to film it," Libby grinned. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? Libby has a passion for film. She's written and directed her own short films, silent ones, mostly. She's really good at what she does. Libby's told me that she wants to be like Tim Burton; she's well on her way.

"I'm going to go order a coffee," I said, rising from my seat. "So, do you want me to get you anything?"

"Chai!" she grinned. I rolled my eyes and walked over to the counter.

"One chai and one coffee, three sugars, two creams." I said to the cashier as I pulled out my wallet.

"That'll be $5.57," he replied in a timid voice. I glanced up at him...he was new here, I could tell. He was tall and lanky with black fairly thick-rimmed glasses, and he wore a stained cream-coloured apron over top of what looked like a Misfits hoodie. I wandered back to the table once I had received the drinks and gave Libby her Chai.

"The cashier's new," I mumbled more to myself than to her.

"Mhm," she said, blowing delicately on her drink before taking a sip. "He's cute."

"Not my type," I shrugged.

Libby smirked. "Coming from the girl who has no type."

I rolled my eyes and sipped my coffee. "It's not my fault that males today can't measure up to my insanely high standards."

Libby laughed loudly. "Hun, come on. If you don't lower your damn standards, you'll never find a man."

"I don't need one," I said nonchalantly. "I'm only sixteen. I've got my entire future ahead of me. Besides, why would I want to be with someone who doesn't appreciate me when I can bask in my own gloriousness?"

Libby nearly snorted up her tea. "Conceited bitch," she chuckled jokingly.

"Love you too," I replied merrily. "Cheers."