BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.You have got to be kidding me. BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.No, I am not getting up. BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP-

"Lauren Leanne Carlson, turn that alarm off now and get your butt out of that bed."

"You wanna make me," I mumbled into my pillow.

"What was that?" Mom asked in a tone of annoyance.

"Nothing...nothing..."

"Good, now get ready for school," she said before walking back down the hall, not bothering to shut the door.

I rolled over, taking my time so as to delay starting another day. Honestly, I could think of 10,000 other things I would rather do than go to Rivermound Highschool this morning.

I got out of bed and closed my hazel eyes, breathing in the fresh air coming from my open window. The moment of peacefulness was broken by a voice I had grown to hate.

"Mom, I don't know what I'm going to do if I failed the Science exam. There was this one question..." and my sister, Alesa's, voice trailed off.

Disgusted, I closed the door. Alesa had always achieved more than me. Perfect in every way. Flawless. She pleases everyone and is my parents' pride and joy. I'm far from being as perfect as her. And I don't care. That's what I always tell myself, but why than does jealousy tug at my insides every time I hear her name?

I took off the grey T-Shirt I had worn that night and threw it across the room in annoyance.

I grabbed a pair of jeans I had purposely ripped around the knees and pulled them on, my dirty blond hair falling in my face. I brushed it away hastily.

I heaved a sigh as I remembered Matthew McCurry is supposed to tutor me in Algebra today. Just what I need, someone telling me how stupid I am when it comes to the ugly lettres x and y. I swear, if he tells me one more time that if I don't start studying every night I will fail in life, I'm gonna punch him in that pretty face of his.

Matthew is considered one of the best looking boys at Rivermound, but he's not just a prety face like most guys. He's smart. Too smart. And he knows it, believe me. At least my sister doesn't rub her intelligence in everyone's face. I forced my sister out of my mind.

I opened my closet which was a mess of unfolded T-Shirts and jeans. I snatched my green jacket and zipped it halfway up, over my white T-Shirt.

I heaved a big yawn. God, I feel tired. I must not have gotten to bed till about one last night, attempting to finish the homework McCurry had assigned me. Attempting being the key word there. And besides who is he to give me homework? My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar squeak of my door opening. Startled by the unexpected squeak, I turned around. My mom was in the doorway looking as annoyed as ever.

"Lauren, pick up the pace and get out of the front door. I am not in the mood for getting a call from Mr. Longo about how you've been twenty minuets late to his class five days in a row again." And for the second time she went back up the hallway and left the door wide open

I tied my wavy hair back, letting my side bangs fall in my face. I really couldn't care less about Mr. Longo, my Algebra teacher. Is it really my fault I sleep late. I spotted my eyeliner on the floor and quickly applied it under my eyes. I didn't really care if it wasn't perfect. It was the only makeup I ever wore.

As I put on the eyeliner voices could be heard clear down the hall way.

"Mom, the mail truck's here," my sister muttered.

I paused, one eye outlined. I sensed a hint of alertness in Alesa's voice. I strained my ears to hear the conversation.

I heard a chair scrape against the wooden floor in the kitchen, as if Mon had sharply stood up.

"I'll go get it," Mom said "Before-"

Mom's words were drowned out by the roar of a leaf blower coming from the neighbor's yard through the open window.

"Come on..." I said out loud. "Nice Timing!" I shouted out the window merely in frustration than in the hopes of my neighbor hearing me.

Now officially in a bad mood I applied the eye liner to my left eye.

It must've been about three years now since the whole mail thing had started. In my house, the Mail Truck had always been a mysterious thing. I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten the mail. Every time someone mentioned letter, mail box, or mail turck, my mom would choke on whatever she was drinking and quickly change the subject. I had thought over the strangeness of it all countless of times and had settled on this theory:

One of my mom's old, high school friends got apprehended by a mail man around the time this had all started.

I laughed out loud at the thought. Who gets apprehended by mail men? But it was the only explanation I could think of. But all the mail men I've ever seen have been the whimpiest looking guys ever. I have a feeling my Great Aunt Wilma could take on any mail man any day.

My brain numb from puzzling over the pointless mystery, I swung my book bag over my shoulder and was out the door. I walked right past the kitchen where Alisa and Mom were. I didn't bother getting a bite to eat, I wasn't hungry. I was never hungry in the morning. It's not like i could spare the time, anyway.

I opened the front door and immediately squinted as my eyes made contact with the burst of sunlight that shined bright in my face. I shielded my face with my hand and shut the door behind me as I stepped out side.

I always walked to school. The bus is always rowdy and bothersome and I preferred walking anyway.

It was one bright, sunny, day. I suppose that's a good thing. I guess. It could get depressing.

As I walked on I gazed at the ground. I noticed my converse, filthy with the laces fraying from use. They were the only shoes I wore and you could tell. The state of them didn't bother me at all. It was the way I liked them. I'll probably wear them till the soles fell off.

I kept walking along the side of the quiet street. I noticed a little girl, around six I guessed, with what looked like her dad. The little girl wore a big, pink, backpack that was about half the size of her. I supposed her dad was walking her to the bus stop which was just a few blocks back down the street.

I had never known by dad. Not well anyway. My parents had gotten a divorce when I was about five. I remembered they were always arguing. Always. But I was too little to understand what they were fighting about. I wish I knew what caused them to get a divorce. But I never dared myself to ask mom, and I don't think I ever will.

I passed a few more, small, suburban, houses with their unnaturally green lawns and trees with leaves of red, orange, yellow, and an occasional brown.

I came to Brooke Street and sighed heavily, giving the sky a dirty look. I always dreaded Brooke Street because I knew once I came to it, in a matter of minuets I would find myself in the place I hated the most. School.

I walked left onto Brooke Street. The school was huge. It stretched around the corner both ways. The main entrance was farther ahead. I never used the main entrance. I always went through one of the side doors.

The side entrance I always used was just a matter of yards away. I stopped walking; my eyes fixed on the double doors. What if I just didn't come to school today? What would happen if I cut school and just hung around Auntie M's Ice Cream Parlor for the day? I know what would happen. The school would call my house and I'll be grounded for a month.

I laughed silently. It's not like I ever did anything anyway. Although, I would miss going for walks in the rain, with my walkman of course. I guess there's no way out of it. I trudged on and reached the small parking lot outside the back doors.

I ignored the people chatting happily about who knows what stupid crap and they ignored me. I pushed open the doors.

I was beginning to regret not going to Auntie M's Ice Cream Parlor already.