“Hey!” I protest, clawing for the blanket.
“Sophia!” She exclaims. She stumbles backwards as pulls the comforter to the floor.
“Fine… I’m getting up. Tell her not to flip. I’ll be ready in a bit.” I drag myself from the bed and step to the cold tile floor.
“Okay!” As she bounces out of the room, her long white-blond hair flies around her.
I sigh heavily and yank my closet open. I paw through it and throw a sweater and ripped jeans onto my bed.
I shrug into my clothes and reach for my bedside table. I fiercely grip my purple hairbrush in my hand and pull it through my hair. I toss it onto my bed and stomp downstairs.
“Sophia Lauren! Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes. Chloe came and woke me up.” I mutter, sitting at the table.
Mom sets a plate in front of me. I roll my eyes and wolf down the toast with strawberry jam. Seeds from the jam wedge into my teeth.
I thank her and bolt for the front door. I slam it behind me before Mom or Chloe can speak.
I twirl the dial on my locker and it pops open. I throw some books into my bag and close my locker. I struggle through the bubbles of students and push towards my class.
Everyone turns to stare as I loudly sit in my seat. I roll my eyes and rummage through my bag, which causes a ruckus.
“Miss Avery? Is there a problem?” My History teacher looks down at me. She pushes her beaded glasses onto her nose while she taps her foot impatiently.
“Sorry. No, ma’am.” I blush and keep my eyes on the scratches in my desk.
“Well, pay attention.” She snaps, leafing through our textbook.
“Yes, I will…” I put some paper and a pen on my desk.
She blandly reads a section in our book and then turns to the blackboard. She picks up a piece of chalk which sends dust tumbling to the floor.
The chalk squeaks on the board. She manages to write two sentences before the bell rings. “Read pages 60-79 for homework!”
No one hears her.
Many people open up a book and read just the very beginning, so you want that beginning to be as captivating and conflicted as possible.
