The Big Day

"Kenzi... Kenzi! Get your a*s up!"

I groaned. Mornings were definitely not my thing. I had stayed up half of the night anyway. It's hard to sleep when you're thinking about the possibilities of the following day. The big day. I was finally a senior.

"Alright, alright! Just get out of my room."

My brother laughed and shut the door behind him as he walked out. He was supposed to go off to college almost two years ago, but - well, I'm not sure what happened. He just changed his mind. Now he was just doing whatever he could to get money for his car. I felt bad for him. When someone brought it up, he looked disappointed. But nothing was stopping him from leaving. I never understood.

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. The sun was shining bright through the window beside my bed. I loved mornings liked that. They were so beautiful. It made the world seem so perfect, though it's far from it. A perfect world isn't possible. There's just too many ignorant people out there. I'm not saying I'm not one of them. I can be ignorant at times. But, still - it was a beautiful morning. The birds were even singing ouside my window. It was like they could tell it was gonna be wonderful day.

Then I realized my alarm clock was still ringing loudly on my nightstand. I was such a heavy sleeper that it never woke me up. Don't know why I even bothered to turn the damn thing on. Even when I put it inches from my head, it still didn't bother me. Staying up late everyday may have had something to do with that, but it was a habit. I hit the snooze button and stood up.

I crossed the room to my vanity and saw my reflection in the mirror. It knew was gonna take a while to get ready. My hair was all tangled and curly. The only way I liked it was when it was straight. It was really the only way it looked good. I had that emo-style hair. Not because I was emo. Emo was a stereotype. I just liked the bangs.

It took almost an hour to get my hair the way I liked it so I had to rush through everything else - brushing my teeth, finding clothes, and eating breakfast. You may be wondering why I didn't put on makeup. Well, I never liked it. I thought people should just see my face the way it naturally was. No illusions. If I ever put on makeup, it was usually eyeliner. But I never wore it to school.

My choice of clothes for the 'big day' was a lot different than anyone else's. It's what I wore no matter what season it was, no matter what occasion: converse, skinny jeans, and a graphic tee. I always got criticized for it, but I pretended I didn't care. If my tormentors saw that the things they said got to my head, they wouldn't stop.

I checked myself in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door one more time before I left. I looked okay. My dark brown hair was perfectly straight, falling down way below my shoulders and my face was clear of any blemishes. I looked inside my bag to be sure I had everything I needed. Then threw it over my shoulder and headed for the front door.

My brother and I reached the door at the same time. Both of us in a hurry. "Good luck, punk."

'Punk'.. That's what he called me ever since I can remember. I wasn't sure why or how he came up with it though.

I laughed. "Yeah. You too, Dakota."

He held the door for me and I walked down the sidewalk and stopped in front of my car. "Hey, what are you doing today?" I yelled back at him.

He was always doing something different to earn money. Sometimes he'd plow some old rich guy's field and get paid about 200 dollars each time. Other times he'd fix people's cars for them. Since we lived out in the country, where everyone knew everybody, there was always something you could do.

"I think I'm gonna go work on Johnny's tractor. He said it wasn't runnin' right"

He spoke in a terrible country accent. As a matter of fact, my whole family did. I got really annoyed by it, but I never told them. I didn't want to upset them. I knew it was just a habit. I didn't have that accent,though. I certainly didn't want to sound like a country hick. I wanted to stand out among everyone else, and I worked hard at it. My dream was to become a famous writer. When I finally made it as that, I could say I came from that small little town of no significance. People would definitely be surprised. Nobody from there ever made it as anything big. Most of them couldn't even use correct grammar.

I smiled back at Dakota. " Well, alrighty! See you later."

He went back into the house and I climbed into my little beat-up car. There was a place on the driver side door where the blue paint had been scraped off. The second day I had the car, I opened the door and hit a pole at the Save-A-Lot. Sometimes I could be so stupid.

When I started the car, I saw that the clock on the dashboard said 7:04. If I wanted any time to compare class schedules with my friends, I needed to hurry up. So I put the car into drive and sped off, completely prepared for the big day.

© 2011 My Wildest Dreams

Author's Note

If you've read the 'About Me' on my profile, then you can tell Kenzi is basically me. But, anyway, tell me if there's anything that needs to be fixed please :)