Chapter 4----Karen Brewer

Everything was clear. "Thank you, contacts!" I exclaimed, inspecting my eyes in the mirror. With the perfect amounts of mascara and eyeliner, my eyes stood out beautifully.

"You could be put in a mental house," a voice said from the doorway, "if you continue talking to yourself like that."

I whipped around. "Shut up, David Michael," I sneered, and flipped back my thick, curled blonde hair. "You could do with a little makeup yourself."

"You're the one who considered using it on yourself first," he shrugged, snagging some hair gel and a comb, and leaving the bathroom. Oh…nice diss…not.

My bangs were back in a cute, tiny clip, and my hair fell in thick, gentle ringlets. I added my silver hoops to complete the attractive look that made boys drool and (hopefully) older kids accept freshmen as human beings. There was a cute guy in my math class who I had my eye on.

"The bus is coming in five minutes!" my step mom called from downstairs. "Get out there to the bus stop, Karen, this means you!"

I ran downstairs, and grabbed my designer tote and totally cute $60 purse my dad bought for me. I'm trying so hard not to lose it. "Bye Elizabeth," I said, hugging her. "Where's Dad? I haven't even said good morning to him yet."

"He's still sleeping," she replied, furrowing her brow in concern. I didn't blame her; Dad's seemed really tired lately.

Beep! "Oh, crap!" I exclaimed, running out the door. "See you later!" I passed my brother Andy, waiting for the SMS bus. "See ya!" And I ran onto the bus, hoping Hannah cared enough about me to save a seat. She didn't. She was sitting with that dorky blonde girl, whose clothes looked like a fifth graders'. If I were Hannah, I wouldn't even bother with her, even if I knew her or not.

Ignoring them, I flipped my hair and sat in one of the remaining empty seats, in the front. Then I pulled out my I Pod, 30 gigs, for the ride.

Today I was being switched into Accelerated Spanish 2, not because I was doing badly but because my teacher recommends to us not to take all honors. I wasn't having any troubles, as usual, but I guess the teacher knows best, right?

I took out my school map and went to find Mrs. McCallum's classroom. Three girls in mini-skirts and tight SHS pride shirts passed by me. "Freshman!!!" one of them called out.

"Hey, I'm not a freshman! I'm a…sophomore!" I protested, trying to sound insulted and indignant.

"Yeah, right," one of them answered, as they stopped. "Only freshmen tote maps around!"

I scanned the map, memorized the way, and stuffed it in my pocket as fast as I could. Freshmen weren't cool, and you certainly wouldn't want upperclassmen thinking of you as a loser!

There was Hannah in this class. I was about to say hi, but then I noticed she was sitting with this loser, Natalie, who doesn't even have a solid group of friends. I found a seat by myself in the back, and listened, bored, to lessons we learned in Honors three weeks ago.

In gym I was partners with Nancy for badminton. We played doubles versus Hannah and the blonde chick from the bus. I don't know why, but she seemed to be trying to distance herself from me. Hey, I offer her times with all my cool things like my I Pod, what else do I have to do to be a good friend. If I could give one tip of advice to Hannah, it would be to loosen up! You only live once, after all.

Today after school David had football, so I got off the bus and ran inside. Dad's car was in the driveway. I set up my books at my special desk, and went to find him. Elizabeth said that when someone has had a stroke, whether recently or un-recently (it was seven years ago), they need to take it easy sometimes, and that's why Dad has to occasionally work at home, which is not a problem where his paycheck is concerned, at all.

"Dad!" I called, looking through the different humongous rooms. I didn't have time for hide and seek: I had to do homework and pick out the perfect outfit for tomorrow. But I had to have Dad sign a graded test for me, before I forget.

His bedroom. I stepped inside and felt something odd. A little soft, but stiff. Without thinking, I automatically looked on the ground. I screamed, thinking that he could be dead at first thought. I ran as fast as I could for the phone.