Here's the Key to My Heart

I woke up at noon with someone banging on my door. I slowly got up and answered it, "What?!"

I'm not a morning person, or afternoon person. Hell I'm not a just-woken-up person.

"Don't you use that tone with me mister. You have to get up." My mom said cheerfully.

"Why it's only Saturday, meaning no place I have to be." I went back to my bed and tried to go back to sleep. Tried is a good word for it.

My mom had walked into my room and started to shake me. "No, you can't go back to sleep!"

What the hell is up with her? She sounded like a teenage girl with her off pitch voice.

"What are you on?" I groan, pulling my covers over my head.

"Nothing! I can't believe you would think I would be on anything!" Now that sounded like my mom. "And I thought you had a very good memory. Don't you remember what you are going to do tonight?"

"Um sleep?" I guess closing my eyes.

"Wrong!" She tore the covers off me.

"What?" I whine curling into a ball, "Stop hinting and tell me."

"Well, it involves a certain boy named Cody and-"

"OMG! I HAVE A DATE TONIGHT WITH CODY!" I sat up wide eyed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner! I have to get ready."

I ran to my closet and started to throw out jeans and shirts. I couldn't find much of anything!! Then I remembered I had a load in the dryer and ran downstairs. I shifted through it and found my 30 Seconds to Mars shirt and a lot of pants to choose from. As I was shifting through the pants I realized that they were all skinny jeans.

"Mom!"

"What is it?!" She came running in. I'm guessing she thought I was hurt or something.

"What's with these pants? What happened to my other pants?" You know the loser ones. I finished in my head.

"Oh um, well you see the thing is... I... You know I didn't mean to right?"

My eyes were wide, once again, by this time, "What happen to my pants?"

"Well a bulk of your black ones have bleach in them?"

"What? Where are they?" I needed to assess the damage.

She lead me to where my ruined pants were. And when she said bleach, she meant it! It was splattered all over. And then there was the thing that all my pants were black. When I was done looking thought it, I decided I could always dye them black again, but I didn't have time tonight!

"Where are you going?" My mom asked as I slowly went to my room.

"I'm going back to sleep." I say trying not to cry over this little thing.

"Why?"

"I have nothing to wear, so I'm going back to sleep and calling up Cody later and canceling."

"Eric Jordan Smith!" I cringed at the use of my middle name. "You come back here right now. Just wear what you got and we'll fix your pants up later."

My mom always got her way, so there was no use in arguing. I sighed and turned around.

"Good now let's go pretty you up!"

Should I be scared that my own mom is squealing like a teenage girl? Yes? OK just making sure.

"So what do we have here?" She was flinging shirts and pants out of my closet. "Here we go!" She came out with red skinnies and my 30 Seconds to Mars shirt. "Put it on!"

"Umm ok?

"Eep! Let me do your make-up, please?! Oh, and your hair!!" She was jumping from foot to foot.

I didn't find it wise to say no so I said, "Sure?"

"Yay!!!" She went to get all her make-up and hair crap.

While she was gone I pulled on the pants and shirt. I haven't wore any of this in three years, and it still all fit nicely.

"ERIC HURRY UP!"

I went to the bathroom to face my doom.

"Mom, what's with the scissors?"

"Uh... well, I was thinking a little hair cut?"

"NO! I'm willing to wear this, I'm willing for you to do my make-up, but no way I'm I letting you cut my hair."

Once I stopped talking I saw my mom had a frown plastered on her face, "Oh OK."

"Mom I didn't mean-"

She sniffed, "No, I get it."

"God, fine! I'll let you everything. Just please don't cry." I hated seeing girls cry, especially when I know I'm the cause.

She cheered up from her I'm-going-to-cry-and-make-you state and told me to sit. I did as I was told and she started with the make-up. I wasn't worried about this part because I knew my mom was the best make-up artist out there (she did it for a living). When she was done with that she picked up the scissors and asked herself what she should do. My eyes were tightly closed when she started to cut. A good bit later she was done.

"Alright chicken, open your eyes." I shook my head. "Oh come on it's not like I took a weed whacker to your head, just a bomb."

"What!" My eyes shot open to see what she did to my hair.

And it did look like a bomb went off in my hair, well in the back anyways. She had kept the front the same length and straight. The back was spiked up and everywhere and a little shorter than it was before.

"You know I actually like it."

"Yay!" She squealed again.