Love Misunderstood

There’s no way I’ll make it on time!

What happened to my chemistry book?

"Last night, I was sure I left it right here!" I mumble under my breathe, anger and worry seeping through my body.

I rummage through my novels and drawings on my desk, I create an even bigger mess than when I began. Mum is going to call my room a pigsty. I usually care what she thinks and a little too much at times, that is until I can't to find the one thing I needed for today, besides I knew where most of my things were in the mess. My hairbrush is on my floor under a pile of clothes next to my bag, I step around the destroyed bed in my god awful space I call my bedroom, and just head to the bathroom to get ready.

“You’re going to be late, Lacey!” I hear my mother Julia yell downstairs in the kitchen.

Screw it!

I’m rush to brush my teeth and quickly run back to my room and get the brush under the mountain of rubbish on my floor and head back to my place at the sink. I glance in the mirror and as usual I hate what I see. I see the eyes that had so much life drain a bit more since yesterday ended and this new week begins, my dull blonde hair looks like a nest of birds lived in it or "rats tails" as my Grandma says.

Mum says I look like her when she was younger. I’m not sure if she meant it as a compliment or an insult because no offence but I don’t want to end up like her, she is beautiful in her own way but you know what they say "If you want to find out what your wife looks like when she is older look at her mother." If that is where I am headed I can't tell how I feel about it, but I can't see our resemblance but others see different. My dad says I’ve inherited her evil eye or the "mother look." as he calls it.

My eyes travel to the picture on my shelf as I brush my 'what i call hair' in the mirror. It's a picture of both my parents, my dad holding his arms around me, hugging me to his front with a massive smile after making me laugh from tickling me, I must have been around eleven and my mother holding a small light blonde baby, my little brother Brody.

If only that little girl knew what was in store for her later.

This must be the only picture in the whole house that has all four of us together. My parents are divorced, they have been for years and I guess they get along better now, only took almost ten years, but there are less arguments and replaced with nice conversations however they still bicker but I'm not bothered anymore. It's my 'normal.'

I make sure to take Brody away from them when they are antsy because I don't want him around that since I remember when they did it all the time, my earliest memory is them arguing.

I was five and I ran upstairs to get something and mum was so angry at dad that neither had any idea I was behind them. Whatever dad said really pissed mum off and she started yelling, even more louder than before and then went onto bang the door of his office slash new bedroom against the banister, she smashed it so hard I thought it would break, I ran downstairs as quickly and quietly as they could and I don't think they ever knew I was there.

I see the smile I wore when I was younger, it might not have been pretty but it was real, now ten years later it's the other way around, I suppose it's pretty since I got my braces off two years ago but every other smile is more fake than WWE wrestling.

I am living with mum and Brody, who is now eight-years-old. He has grown up too fast but at the same time not fast enough, when he was born we got attached so quick, we got along better since it was a big age gap of eleven years, before he could talk I swear he could understand how i felt, he would always hold my finger and stare at my eyes and my troubles left for the meantime. Whether that was friendships or boys, Brody was not only my baby brother but my best friend, he always comes first.

I couldn't wait for him to talk and now sometimes I wish I didn't since now he is never quiet, even sleeping he is known for his sleep talking marathons. But I don't know what I'd do if i went a day without hearing his voice.

When he was born he had very light fair hair but now he has grown into the same shaggy blonde hair as me yet his is a few shades darker. He appears just below my shoulder but catching up slow, I know when he gets to twelve he will take over me. 'If you see siblings and one is taller just know they are the youngest.'

His presence brightens my days. However, I have noticed that my hormones haven't been on my side during my recent teenage years. I am somewhat content with the fact that I will not be around as much when he becomes a teenager, but I am also saddened that my mother will have to live through it, after what i put her through.

I shake away the plummeting feeling of the past and carry on with what i am doing. If my life was a diary it would have the messiest handwriting nobody would understand.

Dear diary, My name is Lacey Evans, nineteen-years-old with blonde hair and blue eyes like the sky and a height of five feet two. Whereas everyone else is prepared and has great time management skills, one of my main flaws is loosing everything important and finding things I don't need!

Yeah, nobody would want to read that.

I am now looking for my phone, I scan my room which looks like its been invaded and find it on my desk, my right hand grabs my clear phone case showing an arcade ticket and old cinema receipt inside at the back of the phone, I turn it on and notice the time.

Shit, My time blindness is getting worse!

I have to be at school in twenty minutes, so I decide to speed walk down the stairs. I am praying for Mr. Coleman not to stab me with a pitchfork. He is the most feared teacher in school and he hates people being late. Now I am in university I feel even more nervous, it is a bigger place with more students and I am stuck in the mindset of school and afraid anything I do will result in a telling off.

I make it down the stairs, feeling proud that I did not trip on the first step. Unfortunately, I slipped on the second to last step and fell flat on my back. My limbs are now aching, I hear from above me a muffled laugh, I look up to see Brody with his hand on his stomach and bursts out in a state of hysterics.

I give him a look and he stops dead in his tracks, "Uh oh, the mother look" he whispers and starts to slip away. My brother and I rarely quarrel but on the rare occasion we do, I look at him and slowly stand up. I mentally high-five for not having a skirt on. Brody is watching me with a worried, scared expression on his face.

I jump at him and begin to tickle him relentlessly.

“Lala, don’t tickle me!” It’s a nickname he’s been repeating since he was born, and it makes my heart skip a beat every time he says it. My hands are on him and he’s struggling with me with his laughter in my ears. I see the clock on the wall and I almost shout. I get up and mum is glaring at me because I’m obviously late.

Mum voice cuts the air as she says or more demands, “I’ll give you a ride today, but tomorrow you’ll have to take the bus. If you’re late again, I’ll drop you off and you’ll get in for detention.”

Even though its university she knows I won’t get a detention but she still thinks she can say the word ‘detention’ and I will get scared, technically she is right, but I am not letting her know that.