Young Writers Society

"Summer, you gotta wake up." I shake my eight year old sister's shoulder.

"Go away, Sammie." She grumbles and rolls over so she's facing away from me.

I sigh, giving up on her for now. I tip toe into our six year old brothers room to try my hand at getting him up. Switching off his tiny night light, I make my way across his messy floor and to his bed.

"Jakey, time for school." I smile as he pries his tired eyes open.

"Sam, I don't wanna go!" He pouts, turning into his pillow.

"Neither do I, Jakey. But sometimes we have to do things we don't want to." I explain calmly.

"But you told me to never let anyone make me do something I don't want to." He argues, wide awake now.

"That's different." I force my smile to stay in place.

"How?"

I sigh. "We don't have time to talk about that right now, but if you remind me when I pick you and Summer up I'll try and make it a little more clear."

He brushes a piece of dark auburn hair out of his eyes, reminding me I have to find the money to get our hair cut soon.

"Wanna help me wake summer up?" I ask, holding my hand out for him to take.

He smiles and nods excitedly, jumping out of bed. We walk across the hall to Summer's room, the clean floor a sharp contrast to Jake's.

"Go get her." I encourage, letting go of his hand.

He bounds off toward her bed, jumping up and shake her.

"Summer, get up! Come on, get up, get up, get up, get up!" He bounces up and down beside her, making her groan.

"Go away." She mumbles into her pillow.

Why couldn't we have been morning people?

"Summer, I'm trying to do this nicely but if I have to yell, I will." I warn.

I hardly ever yell at these two, all of us having heard enough screaming to last a life time, but since Mom's dead and Dad's pretty much gone off the deep end, somebody has to take charge of their lives. Unfortunately, that someone's me.

Summer grumbles a bit more, throwing the covers off angrily. I help her to stand, going over to her dresser to pick out her outfit for the day. I pull out one of my old, pink skirts, a barbie t-shirt that's pretty stained up but at least isn't ripped, a pair of socks and underwear, and pull her shoes out from her closet. I hand them to her silently, taking Jake's hand and leading him out of the room.

"Let's get you dressed and then I want you to go brush your teeth and hair while I make breakfast." I say cheerfully, pulling open drawers.

I come up with a pair of denim blue jeans, a plain green shirt, pair of socks, and his little kid boxers. I slip the outfit onto him quickly, allowing him to do everything he possibly can.

"Don't forget to use mouth wash too." I call after him as he runs down to the bathroom.

I shake my head at how hyper that boy can be this early in the morning and poke my head into Summer's room, checking to see if she's dressed.

"Almost ready?" I ask, stepping in after I've been reassured all skin is covered.

She nods, struggling to get her foot into her slip on shoes. I walk over silently, gently pushing her hands out of the way and pushing her foot in swiftly.

"Want your hair braided?" I ask, running my hands through her silky, dark auburn hair, the same color as both mine and Jake's.

"I guess." She mutters, grabbing her pink and white book bag out of her closet.

"Go brush your teeth and then bring me the brush. I'll be in the kitchen getting breakfast ready." I tell her, ruffling her bedhead hair.

I succeed in making her smile if only a little smirk before leaving the room, heading towards the sickeningly cheerfull kitchen.

I step into the bright, yellow room, opening one of the soft yellow-green cabinets and pull out two plastic bowls and one glass bowl. Setting them on the counter, I fill the stainless steal tea kettel with milk then put it on the burner to boil. While I wait for the milk to heat, I pull the box of instant oat meal down and rip three packs off the strip then replace it back on top of the refridgerator.

Summer comes in with her thick, blue brush, dragging her feet on the floor sluggishly. Jake follows behind closely, looking bright as ever. I grab one of the tan kitchen chairs and pull it to the middle of floor.

"Summer, grab a pillow to kneel on." I call over to her.

She walks into the living room where our father's snoring loudly. A couple minutes later she returns with a grey throw pillow from one of the many chairs surrounding our white couch.

"Pigtails, to the side, or straight down the back?" I ask, starting to brush the knots out of her long hair.

"To the side." She answers, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

I brush her brown hair off to the side and part it into three even strips. As I get ready to begin braiding it, the tea kettle whistles loudly. I jump up and take it off, praying it wasn't long enough to wake Dad.

I finish making the oat meal then hand the plastic bowls to my two younger siblings.

"Bring the spoon up to your mouth and try not to move if you still want me to do your hair. We don't have much time left before we have to leave." I tell her, sitting back down on the chair.

She does as I said while I do her hair and tie it off with a pink ribbon. As I'm moving the chair back, a rustling from the living room freezes us all.

Our father stumbles into the kitchen, hair the same color as mine sticking up everywhere and bleary eyed from the full night of drinking. He glares at me, as I slowly put the tea kettle into the sink and throw our trash away, deliberately not meeting his eyes. Maybe if there's no sudden movements he'll go away.

But we have no such luck. He moves up behind me and pulls his hand back, slapping me in the back of the head hard.

I bite down on my cheek, trying not to make any noise. I hear Jake whimper in the background. Dad turns on the little ones, his face full of hatred. Dread fills my stomach, making me feel like I'm about to puke. I open my mouth to say something but it's suddenly too dry to speak.

"What are you crying about? I didn't even hit you. Yet." He says in his deep, gravelly voice.

"Dad!" I call, finding my voice. "It's my fault you're up. I'm sorry. I forgot you told me not to use the tea kettle and put it on."

He turns on me, almost growling with anger. I just about shrink back with fear, but hold my ground so as not to encourage him.

"You stupid cow!" He shrieks. "Can't you do anything right?"

He pushes me up against the wall, my head hitting it with a painfull crack.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, trying hard not to let him see my fear.

I look over to Jake and Summer. Jake has a scared expression on his face but is standing in front of Summer bravely. Even though I'm currently pinned against a wall with beer breath breathing in my face, I feel a sense of pride, having taught him that we stick together and protect each other no matter what.

Dad hits me across the face with a cupped handing, causing me to whimper a bit. Great, now I'll have to explain another bruise.

He releases me, causing me to sink to the floor from the wooziness. Even as I right myself, I'm checking the time. We have about six minutes left, just enough time for me to go get dressed.

"Next time, you better remember." Dad stalks off into the living room, leaving us alone.

"I-I'm going to get dressed, you guys sit here and please, j-just don't make a sound. Dad's mad enough as it is." I say, my voice shaking.

They nod silently.

I run up the steps two at a time, still a bit disoriented from all the head blows this morning. I throw on a pair of black jean shorts, red tank top, and black jean half jacket that mom bought me when she was still alive. All of it's worn and weathered. I still can't believe it's been a year. In just a year, our whole lives changed.

I run a brush through my curly hair, the length reminding me yet again that we need our hair cut. Then I run back downstairs, grabbing my book bag on the way down.

"Ready?" I call in a quiet voice.

Summer and Jake nod their heads. I grab each of their hands and lead them out the front door.