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My dad pulled me out a chair and pointed to it, waiting for me to sit then took of his "Worlds Best Cook" apron along with the matching hat then shook his shaggy black hair. "So..." His voice said, getting lower each letter. Finishing my bite of toast, I mummbled, "Like I said, I'll think about it. At recess I'll talk to Zoey about it. I bet she'll make it really hard for me to go". "I heard that, you said it would make it hard for you to go! AHA! That means yes!" My dad said with joy in his voice, pumping his large fist in the air then pointing at me. With sorrow in my voice, I huffed and told him bad news. "No, no Dad, it doesn't. I meant if I decided to go, sorry to get your hopes up Daddy". He sighed putting both of our plates in the sink. I headed up the stairs as I yelled down to my dad, "I better get ready for school!"
'Flipping through clothes in my messy closet, trying to find an outfit is hard for me. I have to match my blonde hair, slightly chubby stomach and bandeau's to every shirt I own, then adding pants and shoes makes it harder' I thought, going through my clothes. 'Being 5'4 and 11 doesn't help either.' I added.
I got dressed into my black, yoga pant-type capprese and mint tank top, throwing my blue sweater overtop. Heading down the stairs, mid-brushing my hair I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. After, I quickly grabbed my lunch, managed to get all of my stuff into my backpack and hug and kiss my dad before missing the bus. Yelling "I love you" as I closed the door.
As usual, I sat next to Zoey on the bus in the 5th-farthest-back seat. She was always so weird, that's why I love her. Today, barely into spring, she wore a tutu (yes a rainbow tutu) and a tank top, the same one I was. Her hair was, shall I say beautifully put into a waterfall braid parted to one side. Her hair was bouncing up and down as she moved her head to the beat of the music playing on her iPod. As we got off the bus, I pulled one of her ear buds out and whispered "We need to talk" into her right ear.
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