It’s a Monday morning and I really don’t have the patients for Ms. Vivid. I mean the way she teaches English is just so far off of being correct. We view English completely differently I just wish that lady would quite trying to be our friends and just teach. I hear her squeaky Mini Mouse voice ready to attack.
“Crystal are you paying attention?”
“Do you want to hear the truth?” I mutter.
“Sass me again and you can visit the principal.”
“Whatever.”
“Crystal since you are such a smart mouth why don’t you tell me what I have been discussing to the class.”
“Well you were talking about some poem contest you want us to participate in and that it will be great for us and maybe one of your students could be in the national poetry contest.”
“Well I’m glad you were paying attention.”
“You’re Welcome” I mutter.
Ms. Vivid’s face is priceless when ever I out smart her. She can’t stand when I sit in her class and try to take a nap. I mean it is not my fault that this is review for me. It is not my fault that I came from a fancy school in New York and ended up in well lets just say a not so intelligent school in Montana.
Finally school is over and I end up having to take the bus home today. I hate the bus so much I always have to listen to some idiots conversations. Luckily I have my fifteen year old brother on the bus with me. Grant going to turn sixteen soon and I turn fifteen soon. We are only a year apart so I am fourteen turning fifteen soon and I am a freshman. But sometimes I think I could me a sophomore like Grant.
Grant and I enter our apartment only to find our mom Ronnie drunk and passed out on the couch. Which at this point doesn’t surprise me it’s not a day unless I find one of my parents drunk and passed out on the couch. But today it is my mom’s turn mostly because my dad has to work. I always laugh when my dad says he works so hard because he works in a bar called club twenty-one were he basically just gets really drunk and hangs out with a bunch of kids. I hate when my dad says he is the provider and he can make all the decisions because he makes the money and he pays the bills. But if we were basing decision making on intelligence then I world be the runner of this house. I hate arguing with everyone that is not as smart as me. I guess you could say I’m a tad full of myself, well at east I can own up to that.
It’s Monday night and my parents are going out, now when I tell you they are going out that usually means they are going to get drunk. Very drunk. They don’t get home until three in the morning and I always worry my dad is going to get a third D.U.I but he usually always ends up being safe. I lie in my bed drifting in and out of sleep I can hear my dad’s voice rumble off of the walls like a baritone or tuba. It doesn’t take long before I fall back asleep, my parents always wake me up when they come home drunk. I now they don’t believe me when I say I worry about them.
It’s Tuesday morning and I am back in Ms. Vivid’s room and of course she is babbling about the poetry junk. Then I hear him saying that it should be about something meaningful and you should talk about something that really gets you going. And that’s when my ears perked up I knew then and there that I would change my parents through my poem.
Chapter 2
My dad Jay is finally home from work today and of course he is very drunk. It hurts me when my dad spends more time with a bottle of fireball then time with his daughter. I really miss him, the sober dad, the man I use to look up to. Now he is just another low life in the dust ready to fade away. I pray everyday that he will come back to me. I remember when my dad use to take me too movies and how much I enjoyed the time we spent together. I really do miss the way we use to talk together and when we never would fight. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. I defiantly will use my dad in my poem. There is no looking back now. I know this might change the he views me I wonder if he will hate me. Will he never talk to be again or can I change him? Maybe I will never know if I don’t try.
My mother is fighting with me and telling me I am disrespectful and I need to be more like Grant, because he never back talks and he is so kind and respectful to every one. Why is it that I am always the bad child or student I miss when people use to like me but they don’t any more? Maybe I should me like Grant but why is it that I just can’t do that to myself, I’m sorry but I need to be my own person. This wills definitely work for my poem. And I know my mother will hate me for it she will most likely not forgive me. But the funny thing is I’m not looking for forgiveness I am trying to prove a point that’s all I want to do.
My brother is not to thrilled wit h my writing skills, he thinks all I do is write about depressing things witch is not completely true, well actually I think he is right. But the thing is people don’t like happy things they are just not that interesting. When I try to read a happy book I roll my eyes and tell myself to forget about trying to read a stupid happy worthless book. And I know what you are thinking tell how you really feel. Hey well at least my opinion matters unlike some people. I tried writing happy but something about that mad me want to thrash my head against my desk at home and sit there and die a slow and painful death. And I know you are thinking I am a drama queen and the truth is I am one. You know what I love who I am. And I never will forget it.
Today it’s Thursday and Ms.Vivid is gone so guess what that means a peaceful day in English class. Well I stand corrected this substitute is like high or something I don’t think the women is going to freaking shut up. So I decide to take a fifty minute nap. And it was actually quite peaceful. The substitute came up to me and asked if I was all right. I just laughed in her face and rolled my eyes. She told me to recite a poem they were reading, and guess what happened I recited it perfect and told her I could do this in my sleep. And to my surprise the whole class laughed, I hope with me and not at me. The bell rings and the sub says I need an attitude check as I walk out the door. I told hear it wasn’t my fault she is upset that I am way more intelligent then her. As I scurried out the door I also mentioned that as monkey at random had a higher IQ then she ever will.