"Good morning South Florida! It's Spyder Harrison here from your favorite radio station, Y100. It's seven AM, Wednesday, February fourth. It's going to be a pretty chilly morning, so all you early birds better bundle up! Now before you hit that snooze button, here's a song to get your body going!" Raise your Glass by P!nk began to blare from the tiny alarm clock radio. I groaned and sat up in bed, my hair a mess and my eyes droopy and lifeless. The soft, orange and pink glow of the rising sun illuminated my blue walls and a poster of 3 Doors Down, one of my favorite rock bands. I hated waking up early for school, heck, I hated school, period. Actually, it wasn't that bad, but still, school will be school, and it'll probably remain that way forever. I especially hated waking up for school with an alarm clock. They would always give me mini heart attacks every time they went off. Even on the lowest volume setting they still scared the shit out of me. This thing came from hell, not BrandsMart USA.
"Sage! Get up and get ready for school!" My mom called from her room.
I slammed my fist into the tiny alarm clock radio in hopes that it would shut off. It worked, but I also bruised my fist in the process.
Fucking waste of ten bucks. I thought to myself. I dared not say it out loud, because not only do my parents hate swearing, but they gave it to me as a Christmas gift a few years ago in order to help me get up earlier for school. When they saw that I wasn't using it, they decided to wake me up like they used to. I felt kind of guilty, so I decided to use the alarm clock on occasion, and today was one occasion.
I stumbled out of bed and tripped on my thick, purple sheets, landing square on my face onto my oak wood floor.
"Sage, are you ok in there?" My dad's overpowering voice boomed down the hallway. There was a hint of fatigue in his voice, so I figured he was still trying to sleep.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Fine with a black eye and a broken nose.
"Well, keep it down in there. I was late yesterday because of you. So hurry up and get ready."
WHAT THE FU- I screamed in my mind. I took the school bus to school yesterday, and all other days. If I was ever late for school, my mom would take me. This was because she worked the night shifts at the Miami-Dade Police Department. She was just ranked a chief and now had to work from seven PM to three AM. I would ask her every morning if she was in any fights the previous night, like riots or shootouts, but she says she normally gets called to tend to small fights that break out in South Beach. Today, I was really hoping she had some action last night.
My dad was the President of FPL and worked a typical work schedule; eight AM to six PM, sometimes he comes home earlier, sometimes later. Recently, he's been really stressed out about work and has been down in the dumps all week. I know not to bother him, as he can be pretty intense when he's stressed out. But I was wondering what was going on and just hoped everything was ok. I hoped he wasn't losing his job; that would probably be the worst thing that could happen to us.
I stumbled to my beige dresser and yanked open a cream colored drawer. Inside was every electronic I've ever owned: iPods, Gameboys, Nintendo DS's, all kinds of gadgets and gizmos. I reached in and pulled out three iPods: a green video nano, a blue touch screen iPod shuffle, and an iPod touch 3rd generation. I was trying to decide on which one to listen to. I immediately put the green video nano down, as that one was pretty slow. A few years ago, I accidentally dropped it into my drinking cup. A few minutes later, the backlight stopped working and it became incredibly slow. I had been meaning to donate it to charity, but I kept putting it off, so I just decided to keep it. That narrowed my choices down to my iPod shuffle and my iTouch. My shuffle had 670 songs while my iTouch had 274. I mainly used my shuffle as my main iPod; it had most of my favorite rock, rap, hip hop, and oldies music on it, while my iTouch had newer songs like Britney Spears, JLo, Clique Girls, (I was obsessed with them for only a week.)
After thinking for awhile, I decided to use my shuffle. I put my iTouch away and plugged my shuffle into my iHome. I put it on shuffle and prayed for the first song to be one I liked.
"Please be Green Day! Please be Green Day!" I prayed silently to myself. Just recently, I became obsessed with Green Day. I've had four of their albums on my iPod for awhile now: American Idiot, Dookie, Insomniatic, and 21st Century Breakdown. I started listening to them when I had nothing else to listen to. After American Idiot, I was obsessed, and I now have four Green Day posters and I know all their lyrics by heart.
"Don't wanna be an American Idiot!" My iHome blared. I jumped with joy and started to dance around. American Idiot was playing!
I danced my way into my bathroom and flipped the switch on. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and smiled. I loved who I was: my round face, my smooth, clear skin, my straight, white teeth, (everyone in my family has had braces except for me. My teeth are perfect.) and big, dark brown eyes. My eyes were so dark, they looked as black as night. But if you took a picture with the flash on, my eyes would turn into a milk chocolate brown.
I looked like a normal 15 year old, except I was tall. I was 5'11", the tallest girl in my class. I hated my height for a number of reasons, like when people treat me like an object, not a human being. Holding up cell phones to get a better reception, cleaning hard to reach places, and even being the World Trade Center for a project we did to explain 9/11 were all examples of why I wanted to be normal size. And although I hated my height for those reasons, being tall still has some advantages. I was very good at sports, (basketball, volleyball, track and field, and lacrosse were all sports I thrived in.) and it made me feel older than I already was. Some people have assumed that I'm a mother! But it makes me feel more responsible and mature when people assume that.
I stripped from my red pajama shorts with pink and white polka dots and slid my grey tank top off. I stared at my sweet curves, my developing six pack, (yes, I'm developing a six pack.) my lean, muscular arms, and my long, powerful legs. I loved my body, but what I loved most about myself was my hair. It came down to the bottom of my rib cage and was straight, but became slightly wavy towards the bottom. What I loved most about it though was the color: A shimmering ocean blue gradually turning to an emerald green. On my thirteenth birthday, my parents finally gave in to my begging and pleading to dye my hair a different color. So after a successful coloring, the results were beautiful. It started out as a dark blue at my roots, but gradually becomes a sky blue until it turns to a beautiful emerald green. It shines in the summer sun and it never loses its color or shine. What I did was buy blue and green hair dye, (yes, it exists, look in the very back of the shelves.) I added the blue and green dye, let it dry, then I wore a hair net to make sure any extra dye didn't drip on my face or clothes. When it dried a couple hours later, it looked like a dark blue and dark green mop. My parents were upset, but a week later, (thank God I was on Spring Break.) the colors turned to their natural color. My parents were very happy and glad that I chose that color. My hair before the dye was a hazelnut brown with blond highlights, but I can't see myself with brown hair anymore. All I see is a beautiful girl with amazing hair.
When I returned to school a week later, people were in awe. Teachers were impressed, students were envious, and I was thrilled.
I was smart, (I have straight A's in all my classes.) pretty, talented, popular;
I loved it.
I grabbed my brush and started to brush my long, gorgeous hair. I paused when my favorite part of American Idiot began to play.
"Welcome to a new kind of tension! All across the alien nation! Everything isn't meant to be ok!"
I used my brush as a microphone as I belted out my favorite part of the song. When it ended, I put my blue brush down, closed my eyes, and splashed cold water all over my face, immediately snapping me out of my fatigue, bringing me to life. I pumped the sticky, orange facial soap into my hands and smeared it all over my face. It freed any dirt and oil that had survived last night's shower. As I rinsed it off, I felt the dirt and oil fall from my face, being forever forgotten. I quickly brushed my teeth and flew out of my bathroom, flung my undergarments on, then threw my clothes on that I had organized the day before. I shut my iHome off and ran out into the kitchen to get breakfast. Before I left my room completely, I looked at my clock: I had gotten ready in a minute and twelve seconds. I smiled.
That was a new record.