Name: Taffy Lovell
Again with the yelling. My sister seriously doesn’t get the idea of sleeping in. Or how mornings should be enjoyed in peace and—
“You said you’d drive today!”
I glance at the digital Mickey clock and groan; I could have slept in twenty more minutes.
I woke all twisted up in my sheets. Norma came to me last night in my dreams. My shrink told me to write down any memories that surface. Dreams included. But what if I don’t like what I remember?
My stomach grumbles, and I decide it’s okay to get up now. My computer desk is a mess. I put away the scissors and newspaper from yesterday. The obituaries can wait. One clipping falls. I pick it up and see me. John Birch’s trench coat is thrown over me and my little sister. He’s trying to shield us from the snooping cameras. The caption reads “Teen Serial Killer or Innocent Bystander?”
I throw the paper in the red shoebox and stuff it in the closet before I slide on my cleanest jeans from off the floor. One quick check in the mirror tells me my hair is its usual mess. I flip my head over, rub my hands through and straighten up. That’s how I roll.
The shirt I wore to bed reeks like last night’s Chinese takeout. Not how I roll. I spy a black piece of fabric peeking out from beneath my pillow. I pull my favorite AC/DC vintage t-shirt close and inhale.