I woke up very early in the morning, trying to get ready for school. I could already hear my brother's silly voice saying,
"Get up, sleepyhead! It's time for school!"
He went on and on. The last part was when he swore he would end me if I didn't get up. After much persistence, I decided to get up. I felt like giving my brother a slap, but when I looked at the alarm clock—
"Oh no, I'm late! Uuuuuh!"
I growled as I rushed into the bathroom. I quickly took my bath, picked some clothes. I thought of wearing something casual—like a jersey and a nice pair of jeans, and my final touch: sneakers.
"Ahhh, I look so good."
I said to myself as I looked at my clothes, then back at the mirror.
I was actually the only one who loved my choice of style... yeah, sure, that was expected. But still, people think I dress like a boy or something.
Well, those are just haters, and I wouldn't let them discourage me—even though I'm thinking about it right now.
Sighing for the umpteenth time, I walked slowly out of my room, meeting my dumb brother halfway down the stairs... and then he strikes.
He, at first, looked me up and down while I passed him a questioning look—before he said something that made me grit my teeth in anger.
"What's with this? I know you regard me as your mentor and all that, but do you have to dress like me? And it doesn't fit you at all. Please, go change," Richard said.
"Did I actually ask for your opinion or something? And by the way, when did you start caring about my clothes and all that?
You know what? Thanks for your concern—but I DO NOT NEED IT!"
I said, stressing my words. Come to think of it, my clothes and his actually matched—except for the sneakers, which he wore was black and well mine was white .
"Look, I just don't like it when people copy me. It's a little weird. Go change into something else. We're already siblings—don't tell me you want us to be referred to as twins too?"
Richard ended with a small smile trying to spread on his lips.
Well, he was trying hard not to laugh... I was trying hard not to punch a hole in his face.
"Go, and by the way, keep talking and you'll end up late. I'll be laughing and you will be crying! Haha!" Richard said as he left, feeling pretty good about himself.
I clenched my fist so hard as I went back to my room and changed my clothes. I just changed the trousers into a black flared skirt which stopped a little above my knee, leaving the jersey.
Yeah, that was my only skirt... I was probably thinking of tossing that in the trash bin when I got back—but I didn't have enough time to look for a suitable outfit.
People might think I don't take time with my dressing—but I do. There are so many colours of jeans to pick out.
Richard could say what he wanted—not like I cared.
Though he was actually right about me getting into trouble.
I really had been coming late to school... intentionally, actually.
But my mum didn't know about it. I gave silly excuses like "my brother slept late" or "he was sick." I guess I don't like my brother that much—and now I had to come early unless I wanted to get punished.
I sighed as I went downstairs, greeted my mum, and took my seat beside her. My brother began laughing loudly as he saw me.
"Do you really know you are annoying?" I said.
"Did you look at yourself? Your choice of clothes is as bad as your face," Richard said, laughing loudly.
I gave him my ugliest glare. What was wrong with my choice of clothes??
"Stop glaring at me—you look so ugly," He continued using his hand to block my face.
"Um... um... uuuuh, I don't have your time," I tried to find the right word but ended up growling annoyed eating my food in a hurry. He was still laughing.
"Table manners, baby," Mum said in a stern voice.
I could only stab my fork on my plate, imagining I was stabbing Richard's smile away.
"He really knew how to make me angry," I murmured.
I ate as fast as I could. I didn't want to go to school late or I face punishment . The teacher could just talk about your grades—which you flunked hard—and that would be a huge disadvantage.
I'm not actually a bright student. I don't get good grades, and that would be a whole lot of embarrassment for me—just like a girl, Lyda, who failed her test. The teacher brought her out, called out other tests she failed. The worst was when chemistry teacher said she was a blockhead. Everyone began laughing. She looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
I felt her pain. Me, being a good person, I consoled her. Then we became friends—because I was the only one who cared.
Not technically the only one though , but at least I stayed more.
I don't think she's recovered from that. Some dummies still make fun of her.
I wonder how mine is going to be. Maybe a month, a year, or even a whole term.
Luckily, this is my final year—but I couldn't handle such humiliation for four whole months... plus I don't want to be remembered as a dullard, but a student.
A normal student .
A hand touched me. I turned to look at my mum, who was looking at me worriedly.
"Maria, is something wrong? I've been calling your name, but you didn't answer me,"
Mum said. Before I could say anything, my brother opened his mouth—
"She's thinking of what to tell her te—"
"Ouch!" I pinched him before he could say anything else .
"Mum, I'm fine, see? I'm alright... ah, Mum, why did you stay home so early today?"
I quickly asked ,trying to move her attention away from the earlier question.
Ever since my father died, my mum was the one taking care of us. She had always traveled on business trips.
Reasons why she didn't find out about my little secret.
Hmmmm, I giggled inwardly.
"I decided to spend time with my cuties," my mum said as she hugged us.
I smiled shyly.
We were old and mature for this, but it still touched my beautiful big heart.
My brother acted like she was suffocating him. I knew he liked it, but he doesn't like expressing his feelings—unlike me. I was a crybaby.
I cried anytime she left, and he would pet me.
I frowned as Mum slowly released me from the hug.
Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?
I was actually the senior. Of course, I hated myself for that.
I hated it so much—being called a crybaby.