Sometimes, people ask me if I'm for real. You know, legit. I kind of laugh in their faces and move passed them. Usually. For some reason, today, I didn't. I just stood there and looked at him with a look of shock on my face. Of all people, I would have figured that my brother would have gotten it. Understood. Nope, apparently not. Apparently, I was wrong. I'm always wrong. Or so my parents tell me. Whatever.

"I can't believe," I whispered, "That you just asked me that. How could you ask me that?" My hands let go of the books I held to my chest and my hands tightened into clenched fists. I heard a bang. Must have thrown the books. "You. YOU of all people. I can't believe you. You just... I- FUCK." I had started screaming at him, and before I knew what was going on my brother had me on the ground, kneeling over me.

"Would you stop trying to hit me, and give me a chance to explain?" my brother growled over me.

I glared at him. I didn't want to give him a chance to explain. He'd embarrassed me infront of the whole school today, in the auditorium. I wanted nothing to do with him right now, not ever again. The traitor could have waited until we'd gotten home, but no. No, he had to do it during the stupid performance, where everyone could see.

My glare clearly had no affect on my brother because he continued to keep me pinned to the ground, his hands on my shoulders. His weight was on them and it was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Look, I was having a bad day and you happened to be the last straw that broke the camel's back. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," I spat, struggling against his hold. "LET ME GO. GET OFF OF ME, KYLE."

Kyle sighed and lifted his hands up, holding them up on either side of his face in defeat. "Okay, okay, okay. No need to bite my head off, alright?"

I sat up and kicked at him with my heel. He grunted, but didn't move. I felt my face getting hot the more he looked at me. Without a word to him, I got up and gathered my school supplies. I made my way to the stairs and went up, taking two at a time. When I reached the second floor and looked around at the room and frowned. It was a shame my parents had taken my door that had lived at the top of the stairs, right where I stood.

I had a habit of getting in trouble, and my parents felt that revoking my privacy rights would do more good than harm. Boy, were they wrong. I had spent the better half of the summer blaring music from my computer that could be heard down in the driveway, outside, more out of spite than anything. It drove my parents angry, and they'd often yell at me to turn it down. The best part about having obese parents is that the stairs are their biggest enemy. So, I lived in the upstairs floor on my own, without a door, and with blaring music that even gave me a headache. Hey, it got the point across, right?

Walking over to my little wooden desk, painted white, against the far wall, I dropped off my binders and notepads from school. I'd look at them later, I told myself, but I knew I wouldn't. Don't ask me when the last time I had done homework was. I couldn't remember, so that probably is a good indication that I hadn't done it since grade school. Flicking on the power surge, I turned my computer on. It took a while to warm up, being a hand-me-down computer from my mom because it was "too slow". She had this thing with computers and it consisted of her not knowing what the hell she was doing. Naturally, she blamed me for them not working because I supposedly did stupid shit on them, instead of doing homework. Fortunately for me, I knew that her computer issues were her fault and not mine. I'd grown up with computers since I was in kindergarten. They had us playing on them, so how could I not know the basics of computering?

Anyway, while I waited for the computer to wake up and load, I sat down on the edge of my bed. The soft comforter below me gave way to my weight as I sank into the bed. I had a very soft and squishy bed. Not to mention, I had five comforters layered over it. I liked the weight they provided. It was cozy and always warm. I reached forward and started to untie my shoes, but I paused half way. "Screw it," I muttered under my breath and just used the toes of one foot to kick off the other's shoe. Then, I pulled my foot along my carpet to pull my socks off. I hated feet, and touching socks was just like touching someone's feet. So gross.

I heard a beep and I lifted my head to look at my computer. There was my desktop, shining brightly against the darkness of my room. I kept my room dark, with thick curtains covering the one window to the right of the doorway. The fact that three of the walls were painted black helped keep it dark, too. I'd left one white so that when my parents looked up the stairs, that they'd see white walls and have nothing to suspect. Oh, and before you ask- I painted them while they were on vacation with my brother when he was going to some stupid convention or something. Nerdy things, strange stuff.

Pulling out my computer chair, I grinned at the feline curled up on the cushion. He opened a golden eye and glared at me. He reluctantly rose, stretched, and let out a half-hearted meow before jumping down. He headed over to my bed, hopped up on it, and curled up on my pillow. White cats leaving white fur on black pillows is always a fun thing, right? I rolled my eyes at his attempt to spite me and sat down in my chair. Grabbing a hold of the mouse, I went about my usual proceedings of checking my mail, checking the usual sites, then checking my mail one more time, and finally ending with turning on Pandora radio. I selected my station of heavy metal as I heard the car door slam. Perfect. They always came home at the same time. Sharing a work place kind of made it easy to annoy them both at once. I glanced at the clock, five fifteen, and couldn't help but grin as I clicked on the station as the front door opened. Time to rock.