Zoe Preview Thing

[Ikuar]

In my youth I was sure that things would always be bad.

I didn’t know they would get better or if they would get worse. I just walked along hoping that things would change but they never really did. Is it because I was a mistake? Formed by accident when my parents were in their idiocy stages of life.

They didn’t know any better.

They were really not the smartest people on the planet I suppose. They had my brother and then they went too far and had me. So here I am unsure of my place in this world.

Unsure of where I belong. I just know I am here and that’s all there is.

Silly me thinking I have purpose.

I guess I do. They didn’t abort me after all.

---

The alarm clock goes off around seven on a typical morning. For me I wake up feeling drained and uncertain of what the day has in store. My to-do list hangs on the wall dejectedly as if it thinks I won’t do what is written. I glare at the glowing, green numbers on my digital clock. The number changes. 7:01.

My mind isn’t awake enough to decipher anything except for knowing that I have to get that lazy bum out of bed in the room across from mine. The straight A, drinking maniac that is my seventeen year old brother. I groan. Flopping out of bed just feels like another chore. My foot lands in something cold and wet. Looking down I discover a bowl that once had milk in it, probably from my homework meal the night before.

Lovely.

I pick up the bowl and use a dirty shirt to clean up the spill off my wooden floor. Lucky for me it’s wooden anyway. I think otherwise I’d be fairly frustrated with the smell of icky milk on the floor. Leaving the bowl for later I drag myself to James’ room. Now for the task of waking up the happy, drunk, moron.

It’s officially 7:04 when I reach his room. I flop into his bed and crawl up to where he’s curled up in a fetal position. How cute.

“Jamie Drake…” I yowl, “We gotta get ready for school…”

“Dang it, Zoe. You freaking sound like a dying cat. Get out.”

“Meow. Hiss. Let’s go.” I hit his shoulder with my fist, “Dad will be home from work soon and he doesn’t like it when you don’t get up for school because that means he has to-”

“I’m up.”

I move backwards and he sits up and stares at me with this zombie face he’s known for. Handsome by day, zombie by night.

“You’re so pretty, James.”

“Shut up. You don’t look like a model either.” He has five ‘o clock shadow with complimentary dark circles under his eyes. Did I mention the alcohol on his breath? That just added to the horror film in progress. He was gross.

“You’re disgusting. Go shower and brush your teeth. Karen won’t kiss that mouth.”

James stares at me for a really long time and then finally he moves his comforter and sheets just roughly enough to fling me off the bed. Did I mention that I’m vertically challenged? I guess I forgot. After that he wraps the comforter around his shoulders and slinks out of the bedroom moaning like, you guessed it, a zombie.

“Mm… uuugh… guh…” I follow him out of his room with my arms stretching out in front of me.

“Zoe, seriously.” He groans, “Seriously. Just…”

I catch up with him and look at him. I forgot but that only makes the joke funnier. James suffers hangovers as if it’s a disease. He knows what drinking does to his head and yet he keeps going with it anyway. I find that annoying. Especially when I have to clean up after him every night when he pukes all over the place. Icky.