I Wish I Was The Only Child

I am in my room, wearing a steel smirk. I threw a glass Cinderella shoe at Alex earlier tonight for chasing me around our house. It’s the first time I have and will ever make him cry. Glory is mine.

Brandon holds me over the staircase threatening me that if I don’t stop singing I will be dropped. Fine, drop me, and then Mom and Dad will be in the hospital room with me and only me for days.

Dad carries me out of bed early Sunday morning and buckles me into the car. David has a shifter kart race an hour away. Why, Dad, would I want to wake up this early to watch a boring race won again and again by my boring brother? He’s too busy with his social life these days, why can’t I be too busy with sleeping to care about him?

I am standing outside on the deck overlooking our backyard on a bright, early summer day when my mom calls me inside. “Lilibet,” her soft, high voice chimes as I hesitantly sit down, “David’s girlfriend, Annie, has a surprise in her tummy.” They wait, anxious for my reaction. Oh, no! Annie has a tummy ache? And it clicked. Annie is 8 months pregnant, not even showing yet.

It’s a cold morning on December 1^st, 2002. I get in the front seat of the car and put my rabbit cage, dogs, and birds in the backseat with angry, desperate tears clogging up my vision. It’s a two hour drive to our new home in Sacramento. David, Annie, and the new 3 month old attention-stealing baby, William, get to stay in Reno, along with Brandon, in their new house. Alex and I are stuck together for another four years. Two down, one to go.

Four years later in Chicago, my mom tells me we lost the house in California, due to the housing market. A few months later, my dad will lose his job. 5 months earlier, David lost his job. Brandon lost his house and moved up to Seattle after he lost his job. Alex will be unemployed until a few months from now. Another 30 lbs of stress is dropped onto my shoulders.

It’s Christmas Eve in Chicago, and the boys are still on the west coast with their wives. None of us can afford a flight. I stare, envious, at the Christmas village my dad builds every year, and the chorus music fills the silence that the short-talk leaves at the table. “So, what are you thinking about?” My dad asks. I’d tell him that I’m thinking that I’m desperate for our family and their families to start over and reunite in the same city, no, on the same block next year after I graduate high school, just like the families in the Christmas village. Instead, I reply with a sarcastic smirk on my face, “I’m thinking about how much I love that it’s just us three”. They both know that’s not what I was thinking about.

NonFiction

Okay, this is my first page. It sounds very egotistical right now, but once it is finished, you will get that this not about me having a big head (haha, I promise I don't) because that has nothing to do with the moral of the story.

1. Ooh babeh babeh. Mmmm yeahh. HAH! Raise head in an innocent but totally seductive motion with engaged eyes on camera. Okay, not really, just the reflection of the glass doors in the second floor hallway. Walk, no, skip. Now, bend knees lower. Perfect. Next camera is coming up on the left in the testing center. Quick turn with shocked eyes, loose jaw. Sweet, it’s just like Britney’s music video with these flare pants. I’m a pro! Yes, you’re right, I haven’t done anything outside of school like get an agent or auditioned for anything serious, and I’ve only written half of most of my five songs, no six. No, five. But why worry? I’m going to make it sooner or later; American Idol auditions are coming up and there is no question. I know what people want out of an artist, I know what works, and I will offer that to the world, and they will take it, damn it!

2. Times set aside for practing my Britney imitations that will make me a popstar no matter what, own, unique, completely original popstardomnes that I really have to work hard for:

Pre-calc chapter 2 test this Friday

Standing in line waiting to get some grub

Waiting for Ada to finish up in the bathroom (YAY FOR MIRRORS)

Any time that I am alone in a hallway (YAY FOR GLASS DOORS!)

Doing any homework, besides physics ( I need to take that seriousely). Psh, who am I kidding.

When there is homework to do on Blackboard, in between religiously studying videos on YouTube.

When Lauren rants on about how important it is to unplug the straightener to save energy.

Pretending to care about saving energy when there is a mirror RIGHT THERE!

3. Black and white: on the porch of a cabin out in the Nevada woods. It’s a family reunion talent show. All eyes are on me with sweet, soft smiles. It’s a typical scenario of the youngest, only girl of four kids. I belt out “Give me a siiiiign, hit my baby one more time!” and, of course, the “awww”s and “wow!”s come pouring in. Now cut me some slack…

A. What seven year old girl doesn’t like Britney Spears?

B. What kind of seven year old can imitate her strained, technologically improved voice down to a T?

C. What seven year old girl has the same hair color and has every move in her video memorized flawlessly?

4. I love being here for twelve hours, surrounded by 12,000 nubs that are fighting for the same thing that I live and breathe for, with no sleep the night before and no energy to work on my audition song. I think not. Whatever, I’ll get down there and sing my song and move on. No need to practice my back up song (I’ve been practicing in my head for years). I’ll be fine.