Let Me Die by Maryjessie Pacheco (books for 6 year olds to read themselves .txt) 📖

 
"Jez! Wake up; it's already seven," Dez screams up. I roll out of bed grumpily. Oh, joy! Another day at school to be a freak. I hate mornings. What could be worse than waking up to a clear, sunny day? Nothing...besides the freak part. I walk over to my dresser.

Hmm...what to wear today? My brother's old, too-big black shirt with faded black jeans torn at the knees? Or my brother's old, too-big black shirt with faded black jeans torn at the knees? Tough choice, but I guess I'll go with the second one. I sigh. These are the only clothes I have, and I wear them everyday. Not that anyone will let me forget that. It's not my fault, though. When Dez gets too big for something, it's given to me. His clothes aren't new either; he gets them from secondhand stores. We're not rich, so there's usually not enough money for my clothes. My parents figure, hey, why not wear Dez's hand-me-downs instead of buying seperate wardrobes? I do until they're way too worn out. At least I have one pair of jeans that weren't his. Oh well. No use crying about something that can't be helped. After a quick shower, I grab my new old, worn out black jacket and my backpack.

"Jez! Hurry up!"

"I'm coming!" I shout. Okay, now where are those ratty sneakers I wear? Under the bed? Nope. In the closet? Nope. Where are they? I could've sworn-

"Are you deaf?" Dez calls as he climbs the attic stairs to my room. My door swings open, and I'm facing my twin's wrath.

"I can't find my shoes," is all I say. He sighs, exasperated, and goes over to my desk. He paws through my papers hurriedly.

"Oh, you can't honestly think they're on top of there, can you?" I ask indignantly. He holds them up triumphantly a moment later as a response. I scowl and snatch them out of his hands. While I tug them on, I can hear him trying, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, yes. This is very amusing, but can we just get going?" I grumble. He laughs harder, and I'm again struck by our resemblance. We both have thick, sort of feathery dark brown hair. His is a little long, halfway past his ears. Mine's long and choppy with a part always covering my right eye. Our eyes are a weird, impossible green with long, dark lashes. Really, the only difference is our gender...and the fact that he's like a foot taller than me. I don't get why I'm always surprised; I mean, I should be used to it, shouldn't I? We've seen each other everyday for sixteen years, but for some reason, I just can't get used to someone having my face, in a boy version of course.

As we rush to the front door, a thud catches our attention.

"Where're you two goin'? You haven't eaten yet, have you? I'll make you some eggs and bacon and toasss and...and," my mom slurs. We look like her but couldn't be more different. Her hair's dirty and messed up, and she's been wearing the same clothes for two days. She always gets like this when dad leaves. He'll come back and say he's sorry and that he won't ever leave again. Yet, he's not here. Shocking.

"No, mom. It's fine; we're not hungry. There's no time anyway," Dez answers quickly, at the same time polite. What he really means is that we don't have food, and we're starving. We really don't have time, though. It's cool with me; I hate seeing mom like this anyway.

"Bye!" the four-year-old twins, Avery and Reed, call from behind mom. I turn to see ten-year-old Demetrius waving solemnly with Avery on his hip. I feel sorry for him because it's his turn to stay home. One of us always hangs back to take care of the twins when mom's a wreck.

We walk to school side by side but part ways when we get there. You see, we might be twins, but our popularity status differs. Let's just leave it at he's cool, and I'm not. I don't take it personally at all; he's a nice, outgoing guy. I'm more than a little antisocial, but can you blame me? Everyone's always making fun of what I wear. They all labeled me a loser the day I entered highschool, with the help of a certain backstabber named Amanda Blakely.
 

 I walked slowly to my locker until I saw Amanda look my way. She smiled wickedly and started towards me with Lana, Rachel, Faith, and Tanya right at her heels. In a panic, I hurry to my locker, my fingers fumbling with the combination. I wanted to beat her to class before she could do anything. Why won't my stupid locker open?

"Hey, Jez! How are you?" Amanda asked from behind me, oddly cheerful. She was definitely up to something. I'm trying to ignore her, but someone grabs my arm and spins me around, slamming my back against the lockers. Amanda's shadow, Lana, looks at me furiously. She's about two inches taller than me and crazy strong, with a bad temper.

"Amanda's talking to you. Answer," she growls. I glare at her and keep my mouth shut stubbornly. Annoyance flicks across Amanda's face briefly, but she goes on anyway. At least I have her beat at this.

"So, I heard your dad left again. In fact, someone told me they saw him checking into a sleezy motel with his new girlfriend. I guess your pathetic, slut of a mom can't keep him interested," she grinned. I felt heat creep up my face.

"You're calling my mom a slut? Ever look in a mirror?" I fire back. "What am I saying? Of course you do. How else would you put on all your hooker make up? Tell me something, Amanda. Can you still stand to look at your own reflection or are you too ashamed?"

No one makes fun of my mom and gets away with it. No matter how messed up she is, I'll always defend her. Amanda's face turns red, knowing what I mean. She hates that I know something no one else does about her. Something she probably only ever told me. I know it's a cheap shot, that she'll never forgive herself for what she did, but she started this, not me. Lana's fist comes fast and hits hard, wiping the smug smile off my face. The halls are nearly empty by now, but there are still people around who surround us while I'm beaten. They cheer while I take the blows. Lana sits on my stomach and punches my face, and Rachel and Tanya kick and stomp on me all over. Amanda watches with a smile on her face, but Faith looks like she's about to cry. She doesn't hate me like the rest of them, but she won't stop them if they gang up on me. Finally, she looks away, unable to watch me suffer anymore. Coward.

Before I know what's happening, Rachel's heel comes down on my head. Damn, those things hurt like hell... 

 
"Oh my God, Rachel! Why the hell did you do that?" Tanya shrieks. I can't open my eyes; everything hurts so bad. At least Lana's not sitting on me anymore. At least I think she's not. I can't really tell.

"Is she dead?" Faith asks shakily. When I finally get my eyes to open, the halls are empty except for Amanda and her clones. Lana lets out a relieved sigh.

"She's awake. Let's get out of here before a teacher sees us," Amanda says, white-faced. They all hurry away but not before Lana gets in a final kick to my ribs. I scream, making them run with their tails between their legs. Oh God, it hurts. I think that bitch might have broken my ribs!

I slowly drag myself up and take one agonizing step after another to the nurse's office, leaning against the wall for support.

"Hello?" I wheeze, poking my head through the doorway. Empty. I guess I'll just stay here until she gets back. I go into the bathroom and close the door. When I look into the mirror, I almost scream at the sight of my grotesque face. I now have a black eye, bleeding temple, bloody nose, busted lip, and wildly tangled hair. Oh yeah, that's real attractive. Rage washes over me, but I just take a deep breath, trying to squash it down. Maybe I should just go home; I don't feel like going to the stupid pep rally. Well, maybe not home; I'm not ready to take over holding mom's hair while she pukes her guts out just yet. I'll hang out in the woods for a little while. Mom and her puke aren't going anywhere.

I sneak carefully past classrooms just in case there's anyone outside the gym and make a quiet beeline for the front entrance, skidding around a corner to avoid a late teacher. Funny. They're the one's always lecturing us about coming to school on time. When she's out of sight and hearing range, I do a full-on sprint to the doors, sneakers pounding loudly. I grin triumphantly as I burst out into the freezing, gray morning. It feels so good to run, I don't stop until I'm at the edge of the woods. I bend over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

I straighten up after a minute and walk happily to my favorite clearing nestled against a wide river deep inside the woods. Settling down on a fallen tree trunk, I rifle through my backpack for my little comb and work my hair into a loose ponytail with my bangs still hanging over my right eye. At least my black eye's covered. I dig around for a pack of tissues and walk over to the river, dunking them in the cold water. After I wipe off most of my blood, I sit back down and press the tissues to