Fastest Girl In Town

The sun rose, the rooster crowed, and I had already been up for an hour. You know how everybody says the rooster wakes them up in the morning? They say that you don’t need an alarm clock down here because roosters will get you up. Well, I do need an alarm clock. I get to be the one to wake up the rooster.

I pushed back some hair that had fallen out of my messy bun and continued making breakfast. I danced a little, shaking my hips from side to side, as Tim McGraw played softly through the speakers of my old, beat up radio. I flipped the pancakes and went to finish making my siblings’ lunches.

No, it is not Mother’s Day. No, it is not someone’s birthday. It’s just Wednesday. I do this every morning on every day that ends in day. To battle the monotony, I learned to do it while listening to music. My mission: pancakes. My enemy: boredom. My weapon of choice for the day: a spatula and Tim McGraw.

I heard my younger siblings running upstairs, fighting for the bathroom. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. This happened every single morning. You would think maybe one would start to wake up a little earlier to beat the mob, but no. They all got up at almost the exact same time and shoved their way through the doorway to the bathroom. And almost always it was the oldest, Veronica, who won.

I have five younger sisters. No brothers. Just girls. It’s estrogen city. And you know how they talk about girls’ cycles matching up? Yup, that happens. And it’s hell for whoever is around at that time.

Oh, I almost forgot. I’m being rude. My name is Anastasia Edwards. I am seventeen-years-old and live in good ole Oklahoma. I live in an extremely small town that only holds a good hearted 378 people. Almost 379; my friend is 8 months pregnant. Don’t worry, she is 24 and happily married.

Anyway, my town is so miniscule that I have to work three towns away. Not that my work is anything glamorous. I work over on some rich farmer’s farm. His name is Griffin Trunchburg. Maybe you’ve heard of him. Or, if you live near where I live you have. He’s extremely famous and the inventor of the best tractor around. All of the best farmers use Trunchburg brand. Somehow they have taken over John Deere around here. Don’t ask me how. Trunchburg just got a leg up and everybody jumped on the bandwagon.

I would too, if they weren’t so damn expensive.

And if Mr. Trunchburg actually let his workers use his tractors.

But I will go into that more later. Right now, let’s talk about the present. The lovely present were I can hear my sisters screaming over my music. I sighed, placing the stack of pancakes on the table next to the maple syrup. Making sure all of the places were set and everything was ready, I walked back upstairs to mediate the fighting.

Veronica had successfully squirmed her way through the door, done her thing, and left by the time I reached them. The fight had begun once more to see who would make it in next. Elizabeth looked like she was winning, but Gabriella was a worthy opponent. Theresa and Jennifer were almost holding back, knowing that one of the other two were going to win.

I sighed and pushed my way through. I shoved Elizabeth in the bathroom and held off Gabriella and her complaints.

“Hush!” I yelled. “Do you wanna wake up Mama?”

She fell quiet. I shook my head and held her back as Elizabeth did whatever she was doing.

“But it’s not fair.” I almost laughed. I knew she couldn’t keep it in for much longer. “Just because she is older why does she get to go before me?” she groaned, her arms over her chest.

“It’s not just because she’s older. She was winning, so she went through,” I explained.

“Yeah, she was winning because she is older and stronger!” she whined.

“Just shut up, Gabriella. Really, this isn’t that big of a deal. Now you go next, then Theresa and then Jennifer. Follow that order, no fighting. I have to go and get ready for work. Breakfast is downstairs if any y’all wanna eat while you wait.”

‘I really need to make a schedule or something for them,’ I thought as I walked back to my room.

I stepped out of my pajamas and threw on a pair of shorts, an old t-shirt, my boots. I quickly ran a brush through my hair, getting rid of all the knots. I left it down for the time being. I didn’t put on any makeup and I didn’t do anything fancy. I worked in the fields, what was the point? In fact, the only time I ever did even straightened my hair or swiped on some mascara was for extremely special events such as a wedding or a Baptism.

I didn’t need to check my appearance in the mirror. I knew it would be the same as it is everyday since I did nothing different. I grabbed my car keys and cell phone from my bedside table, stuffed them into my pockets, and walked back out of my room. I had already brushed my teeth and all of that before I made breakfast.

I saw that Gabriella was still waiting outside of the bathroom, looking as if she wanted to scream her head off. But she knew if she did that, there would be consequences. I walked over and banged my fist against the door.

“Elizabeth! Hurry up! Your sisters still have to get in there and if any of y’all are late for school I’m gonna make sure that your hair will be donated.”

I heard Elizabeth gasp slightly from inside. Where I didn’t even look in a mirror in the morning, Elizabeth looked constantly in the mirror. She can’t even go past a window or something without checking her appearance. So when I mentioned chopping off her hair, she rushed out of the bathroom in a heartbeat.

“Thanks, Stasia,” Gabriella sang, sliding in past Elizabeth.

“Anytime,” I whispered.

I went back downstairs, seeing my three other sisters sitting at the kitchen table. It was eerie how they all looked like each other, just a few little quirks here and there.

The ages went like this. I am the eldest at 18. Next is Veronica. She is 16. Then come the twins, Theresa and Jennifer, who are 13. After is Elizabeth has been alive for 11 years. And Gabriella is the baby of the family at age 9. All of them looked just like my mother, while I looked just like my father. Which was funny seeing as when I was in my mother’s womb the doctors thought I was a boy.

My sisters all had beautiful long manes of blonde hair to match my mother’s. Of course as she aged, my mother became accustomed to shorter hair. But if you held up a picture of my mother as a teenager, you would think that it was Veronica. Except for the eyes. The twins had the baby blue eyes to match my mother’s, while the rest all bore brown eyes.

I rock the chocolate brown hair with the green eyes. I look as if I’m the babysitter or something sometimes. Working on the farm, I am also a little more built from some of the labor. So that makes me a brunette with green eyes who is muscular. My sisters, all of them, are blonde and have a lanky, ballerina type build.

“Okay guys. All of your lunches are over on the counter in your bags. And Theresa, please actually eat it this time. You are not fat, okay? You are beautiful the way you are. I’m leaving now. Have a great day, okay? Be smart. Be confident. Be awesome. See y’all later!” I kissed Theresa and Jennifer on their foreheads before walking out of the door.

I walked into the garage and started up my dad’s old Chevy truck. I got ready for my long drive to the Boss Man’s house. None of us farm hands enjoyed calling him by his full last name. It was long and annoying to say, so we just called him Mr. Boss Man. Not to his face, just when we refer to him out in the fields.

Most of the farms out here have male workers. That is just the way it goes. Fathers teach their sons to work the land who, in turn, teach their sons who teach their sons and so on. Typically the land goes on for generations with a family thanks to the hard working males.

When I was nine years old my father left our family. It was a big deal for my mother seeing as she had so many daughters to take care of. We didn’t always live in a normal house either. We didn’t always live in this small town. We used to live on one of the best farms in the state. My father left it with us along with the bills and heartbreak. To relieve some of the tension and stress with him leaving, I stepped up and took over the upkeep of the farm.

Most fathers teach their sons the tricks of the land around the age of 12 or 13. That’s when they become a man, or whatever. Well, lucky for me my neighbor was just learning when my father left. Gabriel had just had his 13th birthday and his father was so excited. His excitement was so plentiful that he was happy to teach me too. In repayment, I worked a little on his land every morning for two months before I worked on my own.

Now you are probably thinking about school. Well, I didn’t really bother with it. That’s right. I am a third grade dropout. But so many of my friends and all of my sisters went to school, so I was able to learn a lot through them.

I wasn’t all too worried about it though. Here, most girls will go to high school and college and do some fancy major. But really, they were just wasting their money. They will never use the major that they paid all of that dough for. Maybe if there was a college major in husband findin’ or children raisin’ or something of that sort. And seeing as I already have my job for life over on the farm, I am completely content with my third grade education.

Now, don’t think that I don’t have dreams or goals or anything. I do all of this so that my sisters can go forth and do great things. I hope that they will go to college for more than baby makin’. And what else do I want? All I want is to work hard enough to be able to buy my daddy’s farm back. We had to sell it two years after he left us. I had only worked on it for two years and couldn’t go back to school. I ended up outsourcing my talents. And that is how I ended up working for Boss Man.

“Stasia!” I heard a voice yell behind me. I had only just pulled out of the driveway. I sighed, seeing the youngest sister in my rear view.

I rolled down the window. “Yup.”

“Do I have to go to school?” she whined.

“Of course you do. Not going’s not an option.”

“But my whole life you haven’t gone.”

I almost growled and glared at her, but held my temper. “I don’t go to school so that you can. Now go back inside and finish getting ready. Y’all be late!”

She huffed and just crossed her arms over her chest. She was so stubborn.

“Don’t,” I warned her.

“It’s not fair,” she hollered.

“I’m warnin’ you. Go back inside. We’ll discuss all this later, I promise. You and me, we’ll sit down with some nice ice cream and talk. But for now, I’m gonna be late for work and y’all are gonna be late for school.” She stomped her foot, spun on her heel and sauntered back inside. “And I better not get a call from school saying you ain’t there!”

“It’s you aren’t there,” she corrected, looking back at me.

“And that is why you go to school. You get to teach me everything I don’t know.”

She smiled weakly and, a little less angrily, walked inside.

I shook my head and chuckled. She killed me.