it's just the same old thing.
INCOMPLETE. DO NOT READ YET
The next day I felt a little timid around Helen when I went to the kitchen for breakfast. She looked like the evil step mom from all the movies; her frizzy grey hair up in rollers, her face caked with too much make up that was left over from yesterday, an old pink bathrobe tightly wrapped around her thin form and an ever-present cigarette sending smoke through the kitchen in her hand. Naturally she was still angry from last night and when I approached the toaster to put in a piece of bread for my quick breakfast, I was almost positive she would say something to me.
"You're really going to school in that get up? Hmph." I knew her well. "You look just like the garbage rotting in that waste basket." I noted that it needed to be taken out when I got ready to leave, and I ignored her. That's kind of brave and standoffish. I thought, knowing that when she used to make remarks I would apologize and go change into something else. But, my ignoring her didn't seem to phase her much. She just added another snarky comment to finish her morning properly. "Speaking of garbage, how are you this morning Leona?"
I should add here that I hate being called Leona, and she's known it since we first met and I asked her to call me what everyone else does. Just Leo.
Again, I ignored her comments and grabbed my toast from the old toaster. I buttered it, and decided that I liked how our kitchen was the same color as the butter, then grabbed my back pack and walked out of the door. Helen didn't say anything and I was glad. I wasn't going to let her ruin my first day of Senior year, especially when the warm sun bathed me so nicely when I stepped into its lustrous rays. It really was a nice day to start school on, I though. While most kids would be complaining about how they should be outside basking in the glory of summer for a little longer, it gave me something to look forward to when I got out of school before I was re-submerged in my own version of hell.
The bus ride was short and while I sat I began to wonder if
"You're really going to school in that get up? Hmph." I knew her well. "You look just like the garbage rotting in that waste basket." I noted that it needed to be taken out when I got ready to leave, and I ignored her. That's kind of brave and standoffish. I thought, knowing that when she used to make remarks I would apologize and go change into something else. But, my ignoring her didn't seem to phase her much. She just added another snarky comment to finish her morning properly. "Speaking of garbage, how are you this morning Leona?"
I should add here that I hate being called Leona, and she's known it since we first met and I asked her to call me what everyone else does. Just Leo.
Again, I ignored her comments and grabbed my toast from the old toaster. I buttered it, and decided that I liked how our kitchen was the same color as the butter, then grabbed my back pack and walked out of the door. Helen didn't say anything and I was glad. I wasn't going to let her ruin my first day of Senior year, especially when the warm sun bathed me so nicely when I stepped into its lustrous rays. It really was a nice day to start school on, I though. While most kids would be complaining about how they should be outside basking in the glory of summer for a little longer, it gave me something to look forward to when I got out of school before I was re-submerged in my own version of hell.
The bus ride was short and while I sat I began to wonder if
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incomplete