16 Reasons My Life Sucks by Sara Walker (the unexpected everything .TXT) 📖

/> “Huh?” She blinked a few times. Is it possible that when my mother
married my father that some of my grandmother’s genes got passed on to her?
“Oh, yeah. Matt’s at the door.”
“C’mon Mom. I told you how to handle that. Just get a broom and-”
“He wants to talk to you.” I swear she said “stupid” under breathe but I
didn’t have the energy to argue.
I sighed heavily and walked over to the door. Under normal circumstances
I’d have run up and changed back into my jeans but this was Matt, my next
door neighbor since I was born. I didn’t care if I wore my pajamas around him.
I mean God; we used to sleep over at each other’s houses when we were kids.
Before I realized he’s a complete jerk.
At the door I found Matt, whistling and staring behind him. He turned to
look at me and I rolled my eyes. “Nice sleep wear,” he commented.
“Haven’t I dealt with you enough for one day?
He smiled this really annoying smile. Maybe I should stop here and
describe this guy. He’s gorgeous. He has slightly tanned skin (if I try to tan I
burn) he has the short, kind of spiky but kind of not spiky hair (I have plain
brown hair; not really dark but not really light) and perfect green eyes (plain
old brown eyes for me. Nothing more, nothing less). So, of course it’s my luck
that I hate him.
Not that he hasn’t given me a reason to do so.
“Let’s go swing.” He began to walk to my back yard. When we were kids
(Erica, Matt and I) our parents (all four of them at the time) decided to chip in to buy one swing set for the three kids. So, it was placed sort of in the middle
of our adjoining backyards.
Matt sat on the good swing, the one that was worn-in. I got the stiff
yellow. The seat was a little wet from the light snow from earlier in the
evening. I stood up and just leaned against the side.
“I got the lead role.” He started to swing. I could feel the change in weight
through the plastic.
The snow was not very high, unusual for January. So, he was able to
swing. I was starting to wish I had a jacket on. It was really cold.
“Um, yeah. I figured that out when I saw Matthew Schroeder at the top of
the cast sheet.”
“What were you doing looking at the cast sheet?”
“What were doing auditioning?” A brief silence, and then, “Beth tried out
and I was looking for her name.”
“Did she make it?”
I dropped my arms from the position across my chest that they were in.
“What do you think?”
Matt gave me a lopsided grin and swung a bit higher. “Well, that’s too
bad.”
“Are you going to tell me why we’re out here?” I was ready to leave. I
really didn’t need this right now. “And please tell me what that that note was
about?”
“I’m not allowed to talk to my neighbor?.” He ignored my second
question.
“No, you’re not allowed to talk to your neighbor.” I began to walk away
when I heard a thump. I turned around and saw that Matt had jumped off the
swing and was standing in front of me. I did a double take, because I was a
good fifteen feet away. Some of the snow on the ground got splashed up onto my shirt, making it slightly wet. Ugh. “Why aren’t you out with the other
preppy sheep? It’s Friday night, you know.”
He snorted a laugh and looked over at his house. “Why don’t you believe
I have a genuine desire to talk to you?”
“Because you represent everything I hate. You’re a jerk. You’re a
conceited ass and you’re-”
“I heard your Mom lost her job.” That was out of the blue.
He stopped me dead in my tracks. And I was just getting started, too. He
was serious and all I could think off was how he was doing it again. You
know, just having to be the one controlling the conversation.
“How did you know that?”
“Um, our moms are like best friends.” Oh, yeah. I had forgotten about
that. But just because he has easy access to my life didn’t mean he had a right
to discuss my mother’s employment status. “I was just mentioning it,” he
responded after I had spoke my thoughts.
“Well, can we please keep this bus driver thing out of school, okay? I
haven’t even told Beth.”
“What bus driver thing?” Oh, crap. “Wait,” he spoke between laughs.
“You mean your Mom’s going to be a bus driver?” He howled with laughter.
That is, until I slapped him hard on the arm. “Ow.”
“Yeah, you better say ‘Ow’. Now, I’m going to bed. Good-night.” I
smiled sweetly, returned to my normal, bored, facial expression and began to
walk away, shaking snow from my pants.
“So this means you won’t help me with my lines?”
I stopped walking. “What’s wrong with Erica? Isn’t she you’re opposite?”
“Yeah but.” He looked up at the only window on the back of my house,
Erica’s. He walked closer to me and in a loud whisper said, “I can’t really
understand half of what she says.”
“Welcome to my world.”
He laughed, and for a moment I felt good. The only thing about Matt that
I like is his laughter. He has a great laugh. But the moment quickly passed and
I turned to leave.
“Good night, Matt.”
This time he let me go.
It took me another hour to fall asleep.
I woke the next morning at six (which was Saturday and I was
ALLOWED to sleep in) to the sound of Erica’s voice. Not just her normal,
cooler-than-thou voice. No. It was her theatrical voice. Ugh. I have grown to
loathe that voice.
“But Bradley! Why can’t we get married?” I assumed, in my state of
lethargy, that Bradley was the name of a character in the play. What I wasn’t
expecting was the other voice that permeated into my room.
“Because, Madeline, I am poor and your father will not allow me to marry
you.”
What the hell?
“I don’t care, Bradley. Things can change.”
The deeper, male voice said in a low whisper, “Things can never change.”
I took me about twenty seconds to realize who the voice belonged to.
Matt.
I tried to go back to sleep, but the harder I tried the louder Erica got. I
don’t know if it was psychological or if the girl just enjoys making me suffer. I
finally gave up and, wrapping my blanket around me, walked into the living
room.
As I walked in I saw Erica, over near the corner, fake crying. Matt (who I
assumed was Bradley) was standing in the middle of the room, looking at the floor. I stood with an expression of confusion on my face. “It. Is. Six. O’clock.
In. The. Morning. Will you please SHUT UP?!”
Erica turned around and Matt looked up. “Hey, you’re awake.” Very
good, Matt! Now let’s try our multiplication table.
“Good. She can be Lila.”
My mind was swimming, trying to take it all in. “Why are you doing this
NOW?”
Shoving a script in my hand, she walked back to her corner. “Because
Matt has a basketball game later today and I have my National Honor Society
meeting in an hour. This is the only time we could practice. Now read your
line on page four.”
I glanced at the line, looked over at Matt, who was laughing, and sighed. I
walked over to Erica (still wrapped in my blanket) and read, with as little
enthusiasm as possible, “Oh no, Madeline! Your father is on his way.” Imprint

Publication Date: 09-30-2009

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