My eyes burst open to the sounds of what seemed like a dying chicken. With a gasp I threw the covers away and shot to my feet, sprinting to my dresser. My hand clamped down upon the desk and I swiped to the left, effectively silencing the alarm. I sank down to the floor with a groan.
'Well that was quite the wake-up call,' I thought. Jazz, my sister, must have changed my alarm again. She was always getting mad at me for being late waking up and making her late whenever I was. Which was almost every day by this point. She might get why I'm not up on time usually, but she's taken it to be her responsibility to make sure I'm up.
"Danny, you up?" I heard a yell from down the hall. My door was slightly cracked, another sign that my room had been invaded while I was asleep. I started locking it the beginning of this school year, but that didn't keep her out for long.
"Much to my dismay, I am!" I replied. And echo of 'good.' came from the hall, about from the bathroom.
"Wait, are you getting a shower?" I asked and got to my feet, joints popping as I did so. The merry sounds of whistling were my only response until I felt my hand brush something. I winced as the sound of shattering graced my room. I almost didn't want to look. But I did, and I saw that the plate from last night was in pieces on the floor. I bit my tongue to hold back a curse.
"What was that?!" Jasmine's head popped into my room. Her orange-red hair cascaded over her shoulders, a look that would've made Paulina jealous. Not in a creepy way! She's my sister for crying out loud. I popped back into the moment when I remembered the task at hand. Besides, her teal eyes were full of worry. But then they spotted the plate.
"Get away from that!" She ordered. In a few steps, she was at my side and pushing me away from the mess. I heard her worried fretting in my ears, but I tuned her out.
Taking my chance, I grabbed the outfit I picked last night from my dresser and made a mad dash for the bathroom. A chorus of 'hey, get back here' was left in my wake. I slid into the bathroom with practiced ease and stuck my tongue out at Jazz as she skidded around the corner. Man, did she look mad. I noticed that at the time, but I slammed the door in her face anyways.
"Daniel James Fenton! Open the door this instant!"
"That only works when Mom or Dad does it!" I quipped. There was a peaceful pause and I meandered over to the shower, turning the handle as slowly as I could.
"It'd only take me a minute to get in," She replied. I answered her with a scoff.
"You respect my privacy too much to do that." I grinned from ear to ear at her response.
"Dangit."
It was a half hour later when I finally walked out of the bathroom, refreshed and with my short black hair fully dried. Jasmine darted past me as soon as I stepped out. The door shut with a slam and I heard the sounds of rushing water start. With an evil grin, I made my way back to my room. I was knocked off my pedestal when I remembered the plate, but Jasmine had already cleaned it up. At that, I felt a bit sorry for using up all the hot water. It takes a lot for me to feel the warmth, and that's why Jazz, my nickname for Jasmine, always tries to get in first. I understood why, but I still like to already be showered and not be rushing into school with droplets of water raining on anyone I pass.
"Danny!" I hear yet another yell from down the hall. I'd bet I looked like the Grinch as I plopped down on my bed.
I took my time and pulled on my sneakers; one by one. By the time I'd gotten my shoes, coat, and bookbag on, I heard the water stop and a door creak open. Stomping rattled a glass of water on my nightstand and I plastered the evilest grin I could muster on my face as a drenched, shivering, and ticked off Jazz stood in my doorway. Her shirt was partially wet where her hair had been, which was now pulled into a ponytail.
"Have a nice shower?' I asked innocently. If looks could kill, the other half of me would've been dead by then.
"Why did you use all of the hot water?!" She yelled, pulling her coat a bit closer.
"You know what they say," I had to keep myself from laughing at what I'd thought to say, "Revenge is a dish best served cold." Jazz's gaze narrowed at the statement then she groaned at the joke.
"You and your puns," I heard her grumble as her muffled footsteps receded down the hall.
"Love you!" I called out after her. No response.