I dash to the mirror and snatch my bonnet off. It won’t take too long to style my hair. I plug my flat iron into the outlet and switch it on, then liberally apply heat protectant onto my thick strands.
“Hey, shit for brains.” Nolan strolls into my bedroom and stretches out across my bed. “Momma said get your ass downstairs pronto.”
“Get out,” I snap, picking up my hairspray and launching it at his fat head.
He easily dodges it. “Nope.”
“I mean it,” I bite out between clenched teeth, scouring my dresser for the next haircare product to use as a makeshift missile.
“Don’t kill the messenger.” He leans to the side and lets a big one rip. “Damn, that stench is going to linger in here for days.”
“Ugh, you disgusting pig!” I charge at him, my fist raised. “I’m going to murder you!”
Before I can deliver the blow, he bolts out of the door, cackling like a hyena. Living with him is a nightmare! And since we’re going to the same school this year, he’s my ride in the mornings.Grrr!Being in a confined space with him is a true test of my patience, and that’s putting it mildly. He blasts the radio, farts, picks his nose… basically doing everything he can to annoy me during the entire twenty-minute drive.
Thank the heavens above, he’s graduating next year and heading off to college—hopefully somewhere thousands of miles away. I’m literally counting the days. I pluck my honeysuckle body spray from the dresser and liberally spray the sweet scent around my room.
Great, now it smells like flowers and rotten eggs.
Nolan is popular and well-liked by his peers. I don’t understand it. Girls even compete for his attention. It’s sickening to watch. What the heck do they see in him? It can’t be his stellar personality. Okay, yeah, playing sports has toned his body, but he’s short and resembles a naked mole rat. He’s seriously butt ugly. And I’m not just saying that because he’s the worst brother on this planet. It’s a fact.
Nolan doesn’t take after our parents, who are very attractive people. Maybe he’s adopted. That’d explain a lot.
I quickly run the flat iron through my silky mane, then slick down my baby hairs with edge control. A few coats of watermelon-flavored lip gloss, and I’m ready. I study my reflection, turning from side to side, checking that everything is perfect.
“Zilphia Theresa Kensley, your behind better be at the kitchen table in two minutes!” Momma yells upstairs.
Crappity crap crap. It spells disaster whenever she uses my full name. I’m in for the ‘you’re a bad daughter’ lecture interspersed with head shakes of disappointment.Yippee.
“Coming, Momma,” I call out, grabbing my inhaler, my purse, and my backpack. I yank my door shut and race downstairs.
“Good morning.” I bustle into the kitchen and slide into a chair.
The table is laden with bacon, eggs, potatoes, grits, and pancakes.
“Morning, baby girl.” Daddy beams, placing his coffee mug on the table. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”
“Yep.”
Momma stops filling the dishwasher and immediately starts airing my shortcomings. “You are so irresponsible, Zilphia. Why can’t you be more like your brother?”
Daddy shoots me a pitying look but doesn’t utter a word in my defense. We’re in the same boat. Momma is always jumping down his throat for one reason or another, mostly about finances. She spends more than he earns. I wonder if he regrets choosing her instead of Sheila.
“I told her to hurry up, Momma, but she was taking her sweet ole time.” Nolan smiles smugly.
Oh, how I want to smack it off his fugly face.
“Do you need a bedtime at fifteen?”
“No, Momma,” I answer respectfully. “I forgot to charge my phone last night.”
“You’re too old to be this stupid and irresponsible,” she snaps, glaring at me with disdain.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, clasping my sweaty hands together beneath the table. “It won’t happen again.”
She lets out an annoyed huff and turns back to her task. I release a relieved breath and begin stocking my plate. I’m careful to serve myself small portions so as not to incur her wrath.
Momma prepares a feast every morning, dressed as if she’s heading to a red-carpet event.
