I was obnoxiously woken by Chloe this morning. She came into my room and attempted to call me, like usual. When I didn’t reply, she started to screech at me and jumped onto my bed.
I groaned and ignored her until I could feel her warm breath on my ear. She started to wail like a siren. I winced and smacked her with a pillow. She fell off the bed and now I’m grounded.
Way to go, Chloe.
Now I’m sitting in my room. Mom came into my room after the incident with Chloe and started to yell at me in a pinched voice, complaining about how I should know better than to harass a six-year-old.
I roll my eyes and turn on my CD player. Loud music blasts from the speakers and blows the papers off my desk.
My bedroom door flies open. Mom stares at me with snake-eyes and sends daggers through me. If she frowns any harder, her eyebrows will melt together.
“SOPHIA!” She shrieks. She storms into my room.
“What’d I do now?” I ask.
“Turn that racket OFF!” She stomps towards my CD player and turns it off. She mutters loudly to herself as she goes back into the hallway.
I slip into the bathroom and find my razor. I paint a few lines into my arm and go back into my room.
For the next ten minutes, all I hear is knocking on my door. Chloe cries for me to come out and play with her. Mom tries to order me out because if I don’t listen to her, I’ll be grounded.
I eventually decide to open my door. Mom stands in my doorway. “Sophia!”
“I did what you asked.” I scoff, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t give me that tone! It’s time for dinner.” She snaps. Her sharp tongue flies.
“Okay.” I sigh and follow her downstairs.
Chloe is sitting at the table. She’s bouncing so much that her chair is vibrating.
I pull out my chair and sit. Mom comes into the kitchen, holding a steaming steel pot.
She carefully scoops noodles onto the ceramic plates. Steam bubbles up from the plates and curls in the air. Mom goes back into the kitchen and comes out with a smaller boiler. She pours tomato sauce onto the noodles.
Chloe squeals and crushes the noodles with her fork. I carefully twirl some on my fork because when I move my arm, the cuts throb.
Chloe blabbers about her daycare group and Mom listens absentmindedly. I let my mind wander, which is a mistake because all I can think about is Jenny. Replaying the conversation in my mind tugs at my heartstrings.
“Sophia… Sophia… Sophia!” I don’t check back into reality until Mom starts impatiently calling my name.
She presses her hand into her hip and proceeds to lecture me yet again.
You can't use both.