CHAPTER ONE
ACTING ALL WEIRD
My bedroom door flew open. “Piper!” my mother yelled. “I’ve had it.” She whipped her hands to either side of her head. “I’m sick and tired of your father making fun of my frizzy hair.” She stamped her foot, plunked her hands on her hips, and stormed to my bedside. “Ugggggghhhhhh! I’m so angry. I feel like smacking him, but you’ll get mad and ground me. So,” she pointed toward the door, “I want you to go downstairs and talk to him right now!”
Her eyes opened wide. Covering her mouth, she lowered her hand slowly. “Sorry, Piper. I didn’t mean to yell at you. You’re not mad at me, are you?” She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands as if praying. “Please? Will you tell him? Will you get him to stop? Pretty please?” Tears fell from her eyes. “Please?”
******
This happened on March second in Bonn, New Hampshire—the date my mother changed into someone weird I may be stuck with for eternity. I’m a thirteen-year-old girl who used to have a normal life until the day my mother stormed into my room, behaving like a child.
But before I go any further, look at a typical morning around my house.
******
On March first, my bedroom door flew open. I peeked from under the covers, and my mother rushed in, wearing her usual long dress for work.
“Piper,” she said, jamming her hands onto her hips. “You overslept again. Now, you’ll have to rush to get dressed, rush downstairs, rush to eat breakfast, and rush to catch the school bus. Don’t you ever get tired of rushing?”
I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. Seven-eighteen, I thought. “Mom, I have forty-five minutes before the bus comes. That’s plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time?” She marched to the bed and yanked off my covers. “You get out of that bed right now, young lady.” She surveyed my room. “What a dump? I swear, if the city refuge people saw this room, they’d think it was the perfect place to unload all their garbage.” She glared at me. “Don’t you get tired of living like a pig?”
I sat erect and rubbed my eyes. “Chill, Mom … you don’t see any mud, do you?”
She reached under my bed and lifted one of my Air Jordans by the laces. “What do you call this … chocolate? Don’t tell me you’ve been walking around in chocolate!”
“Not chocolate, Mom. It’s as hard as a rock.”
“Why did you walk in the mud?”
I scooted to the edge of the bed. “Walking on hard dirt, you mean? Dad drove me to the astronomy club field trip. We set up our telescopes, and I guess I didn’t notice where I stepped.”
She let the shoe drop. It hit the floor, and pieces of hardened dirt flew everywhere. “You stepped on the back floor of your father’s car. You stepped across the kitchen floor … and you stepped all along the hall floor. I know because I had to clean it up.”
I dropped my feet to the floor, stood, and stretched. “Look on the bright side, Mom. I didn’t get a speck of dirt on my bedroom floor.” I yawned and lowered my arms. “Until you came in here and let my shoe drop, that is.”
She shoved a finger in my face. “Don’t get cute with me, young lady. I should have grounded you for tracking in all that mud. You’ll be lucky if your father doesn’t remove your computer and cell phone privileges for a few days.”
I trudged to my bureau, opened the drawer, and selected clean underwear. “Sorry about that, Mom. I’ll be more careful next time.”
She turned in a circle, scrutinizing my room. “When you get home from school…,” she smacked a finger on her left palm. “… one, you will clean this room.” She smacked two fingers against her palm. “Two, you will hand-wash those shoes until there isn’t a speck of mud on either.” She smacked down three fingers. “And three, you will gather all these dirty clothes you have lying around, bring them downstairs to the basement, and wash them yourself.”
I raised my arms. “Aw, Mom. I’ve got something planned after school.”
She shook her finger in my face. “Watch it, or I’ll make you wash your clothes by hand.”
I lowered my gaze to the floor and kicked at the rug. “Okay, Mom.”
She hurried downstairs, and I strutted along the hall, humming. Shane darted from his bedroom and dashed for the bathroom.
“Hey,” I said. “My bus comes first. I’m supposed to go before you.”
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “You were supposed to go first twenty minutes ago. It’s my turn, now.” He twisted the knob.
I dashed to the door, caught his arm before it disappeared, and yanked him back. We met head-to-head, face-to-face, nose-to-nose.
My brother and I faced off in the doorway of the only upstairs bathroom. He stood just inside it and had the advantage. I stood outside, and the glaring contest had begun. The winner would get to use the bathroom first.
“Shane, show some respect for your older sister. I’ve got two years on you.”
His glare softened as the drooping corners of his mouth turned up a little. “You’re right, Piper. Excuse my being so rude. You should go first.”
He stepped out, easing me back with one hand. “Wait a minute. I dropped my socks.”
He strode into the bathroom and slammed the door in my face.
That little … why do I always let him fool me? I should know I can’t trust anything he says.
I stomped forward and pounded on the door. “Shane Littlejohn, you come out of there right now.” No answer. I beat harder on the door. “Shane, I mean it. I’ll tell Mom.”
Since he got his way, he’s giving me the silent treatment as usual.
I rapped again. “I’m going downstairs right now to tell Mom.”
Treading in place on the wooden hall floor, I made each footstep softer.
“Come on, Piper, you can’t fool me. I know that trick. Mom will tell you it’s your fault for sleeping in, and she’ll let you use her bathroom. You lost again, sis. Get over it.”
I smashed the side of my right fist on the door several times.
Ohhhhhh! I’d like to get my hands around his scrawny neck … and squeeze!
END SAMPLE CHAPTER
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