The life I live by Margaret (best classic literature .txt) 📖

Chapter 1

The first day of the rest of your life. No pressure.

The sun made its way through Emily's curtains, and penetrated her dreams, and slightly awoke her. She groaned and threw her pillow at her blinds. A temporary fix. If someone could fall asleep in ten seconds flat after throwing a pillow to fend the sun away, Emily would have been in permanent hibernation. But alas, the sun's army of evil rays won the short war. Plus Emily's alarm clock as one of its allies didn't hurt ether.

Nor the fact of that her little brother and sister, who were in the seconded grade, and kindergarten really weren't fighting alongside their sleepy grizzly bear sister. Emily sat up in her bed, and stretched her arms up to the sky, and yawned. Today was going to be one of those days were she wanted to go right back to sleep the seconded she got up. She dressed for school, and slung her backpack over her slumped shoulders. She made her way down the stairs, eyes closed. She'd made a mantel map of the whole house, mostly because she wanted to do some sort of sleep walking till she arrived at school.

Ugh. As her siblings, or rather, little monsters as Emily called them, squirmed, and squealed over the pancakes their mother had made over the special occasion of the first day of school. Now to Emily, the first day of school meant going to kindergarten. THAT was the first day of school. The rest of the years were just repeat sentences to prison. The crime that he entire kid population had managed to commit? Two or three months of care free freedom. Yes, it certainly was one of those horrendous crimes.

Emily didn't remember any trial. So much for anybody is innocent until proven guilty. All the adults just atomically assume that any kid in a pair of ripped skinny jeans and shaggy hair is going to be a murder and spend his or her entire life time in the state prison, and the kid who wears a tie to school is the countries next leader. As if.

Emily finally opened her eyes, and got that shock of light that happens to your eyes when you're in a dark class room, and some evil kid flashes the lights on as soon as humanly possible. She rubbed her eyes, and headed to the front door. Since she was still half asleep, she walked right in to the see thru front door. She plumped to the ground with a thud. "Ughhhhhhhh." She groaned miserly. She lay on the ground for a moment and then decided that the floor was feeling like a pretty god bed, and her throbbing head didn't think twice. "Emily are you all right?" her little brother Zack asked.

"Yea, their only pains that will probably cause me permanent brain damage. Nothing this family isn't used to. The less sane, the better." Emily answered as she started to make her way and sit up properly. Zack tilted his head. "Sane?" he asked, new to this term. Emily rolled her eyes. "I mean the less right in the head we are; the more our family will not have to keep up their jobs of driving us into the loony house. It's like the law Zack. Families have to drive each other insane, so that at Thanksgiving it's extremely awkward. And knowing that your family has the most blackmail on you helps a lot." Emily explained, knowing that Zack wouldn't understand a word of what had just come out of her mouth.

Then again, this was the same kid who believed her when she'd told him that if he put three chicken nuggets and an egg in the microwave, and set the clock for five minutes, a chicken would appear. Emily's parents could just flush their dreams of having a genius in the family down the toilet. "Oh sweetie." Emily's mother cooed. "I'm fine Mom." Emily said standing up and taking a pancake from the pile. "Sit down and eat it dear." Her Mother ordered in a soft tone, but by the time her Mother had finished the sentence,

Emily had all ready sprinted out the door. "I'll eat on the way!" she called back, still sprinting as fast as her bare feet would carry her. Emily stopped running. "I left my shoes." She grumbled to herself. When she'd come back to the house her Mother was holding her tennis in her hands. "Forget something?" her Mother asked with a sly smile. Emily glared, and rolled her eyes. "I'll have to drive you to school, so you won't be late." Her Mother continued while handing Emily her shoes.

Once her Mother had loaded up Emily's siblings, Emily took her place in the front passenger side seat. Once her Mother had made a final check that all her kids were wearing seat belts, she put her keys in the ignition, and pulled out of the drive way. The Elementary school was closer, so the little monsters got dropped off first. The Middle school; were Emily went to school was just about two more minutes up the road from the Elementary. While Emily changed the radio station, her Mother tapped her long fingernail agents the steering wheel. "God is it really necessary for every flipping kid to be at the front of the line! You don't put the backpack in the back of the car, and hug and kiss your mommy good-bye!" Emily's Mother nearly yelled.

Emily couldn't help but slightly smile. Her mother could be such a freak some times. Once they were at a decent part of the longest line in the whole world, her mother said, "Get your butt out." Emily smiled. Her Mother was at exploding point. "Oh oh oh oh oh! Look. The cars are moving! Gotta stay in. Emily annoyed her mother until they were at the front of the line. Emily's mother glared at her. "NOW." She growled. "Yes Mommy dearest." Emily smiled as she got out of the car.

Emily entered the school building, and all most on cue there was a loud 'HONK!' from her Mother's car. There were a few smiles, and a giggle or two, but none of which came from Emily. She trudged to her 1st period class. It was one of the less torturous classes, as the 8th graders who were now in the High school had told her, and the rest of the 7th grade last year thru the schools teacher review gossip. Mrs. Robinson was her reading teacher and she was super laid back, and 99.9% of the time there was no homework. For an 8th grade teacher, she was pretty cool, but to substiutute this practically free work period, the rest of the teachers made it their soul duty to give anybody that had Mrs. Robinson was given ten times more home work than anybody else.

Emily walked in to the room, and the lovely sent of pinecones, and peaches entered her nose. It made her close her eyes and smile for a brief moment. She then walked over to her desk in the front row, which was her seat awaited her. She wasn't placed in the front row because she was one of those troublesome students, it was her own choice. Surprisingly enough, she found it easy to take her school naps in the front row.

All the teachers pay attention to the back row, because the back row people all ways seem to be the chattiest. So it was only common sense to sit in the front.

You're either in the front because you've been bad, or you're pretty darn smart to have figured out that you will go unnoticed from the teacher's eagle eye. "Hey, Emily!" Emily turned her head slowly, recognizing the voice instantly. Her gaze met Rodney Zims face. Nobody called him Rodney though, they all called him Zim. It was mostly an insult, though Rodney took it as the coolest nickname ever, because it was his last name. It was very out dated insult though, it was from the old cartoon show 'Invader Zim' if Rodney ever figured out that he was being called an Alien, he'd be so utterly shocked and disappointed.

"Hey, if it isn't the Zim man." Emily said. It was too early to be mean to someone, even if they had no idea you were trying to be mean to them. She added the "Man" to please Zim. Though she would never understand why boys at her school thought being called "man" made them feel better about themselves, all she knew was that it made Zim strengthens his posture, and flexes his puny muscles. Zim was pretty much skin and bones with a face decorated with tiny orange freckles. He wore his brown hair long and shaggy like surfers.

Uncut or perhaps even uncuteble because of the thickness. Zim had enough hair for at least three girls with shoulder length haircuts. He was a lot cuter than most of the boys at school, but that was his curse. The not so cute boys made up over half of the 8th grade population, and over all Zim was a different kind of character. He was nice, and never got in trouble. You could ask every single boy in the 6th 7th and 8th grade if they've ever had an in school suspension or in shorter terms an ISS, and they would answer with a proud "Yes!" Amongst the Boys it was a badge of honor, and if you acted shocked that he was capable of getting one he would go, and get another one just to prove it.

That's why most of the boys had eleven or at minimum five ISS's because they had to 'prove' themselves over and over again. It was a disgrace to the entire man and boy population. It wasn't proving anything; it only proved that you were an easy peer pressure target, or just plain stupid. It was going to take more than a "If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you?" to strengthen all the boys, or rather primates back to sanity. Or any were near it.

Zim took his seat next to Emily, and the butterflies made their presence known as soon as he sat down. "How was your summer?" he asked happily, as if he expected a long discretion on what her summer was like with no detail spared. Instead he got an "It was fine. Same old same old." Zim was a bit disappointed with this reply, but no way was he going to let it show. "Well mine was awesome! We went to the beach in Hawaii, and the moutons in New Zealand than the-"Zim stopped. Emily had already opened a book, and looked like she'd been trying to focus on it for a long time, as soon as Zim had opened his mouth. Zim sighed. Another conversation with Emily gone downhill, lost in the wind.

The day began a little off the mark of a perfect day. Then again, this wasschool, and the best thing you can expect from school is that your school lunch doesn't blink back at you. But a substitute is just plain out unacceptable. "Hello children!" the teacher slapped her wooden pointer on Emily's desk. It looked long, and whippy. The crack that it made when it made contact with the desk made the entire class gasp for air, as if the pointer had sucked it entirely out of them.

It made Emily jump in her seat, and the hair on the back of her neck