Poptarts and Donuts

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Johnathan

Monday. My alarm screamed at me, over and over until I found the will to turn it off. Somehow.

It mocked me from my dresser, the red number glowing 4:01.

I picked up the planner I had written down all my new chores in, flipping to today's list.

Alright. It'll take an hour to sweep, mop, sanitize, and vacuum. Then another hour to  rake the yard, water moms flowers, do all the laundry, clean up the rooms, do the dishes, and make the beds. Then I had to make breakfast, wake Ali up, and get her to school.

I consoled myself with the knowledge that mom had left around 2am to catch her flight.

I stumbled down the hallway, making coffee before starting. Normally I'd have half of it done the night before, but I'd had homework to finish up and a job to find. 

I'd been successful. I started next week at a small diner next to a park.

My stomach growled - coffee didn't really make up for the lack of food. I shook it off, knowing I'd eat with Ali in just a couple hours. 

As I cleaned, making sure all the rooms were the way they should be, I zoned out, listening to music through my headphones. It's not so bad when you have something to listen to. I didn't click back in until I entered Mom's room. Normally I avoided this room, but today it was written as a priority chore. Since last Thursday that had become a real thing in my life. Priority chores had been highlighted.

"No way." I stared at the huge mess. There were clothes everywhere, some sort of sand in the carpet, and cups of coffee on every surface. Her bathroom was worse, makeup and different soaps scattered all over the place. Something must have exploded.

This was going to add time. Like, an hour. And it was 5 already.

For a minute I considered leaving it. Not playing along. I walked out, and closed the door, feeling rather rebellious.

But then I remembered Ali's smile yesterday when she had asked to go to her first sleepover. A girl in her new class had invited her. She was so excited.

The memory killed the rebellion. I started cleaning again, plugging in my headphones for the next hour and a half.

It went by pretty fast. Music does that.

"Jonah." Ali walked in, rubbing her eyes. "Are we late today?"

Glancing at the clock, I shook my head. "Only a little. I had some extra cleaning to do." Some. Ha. Try tons. And I'd skipped the yard, sweeping, mopping, and most of the vacuuming.

"Are we eating breakfast?" Ali, who had been at Mrs. Molly's almost all weekend, didn't know what that sentence did to me. I hadn't eaten more than a couple snacks since school lunch on Friday, and it was wearing on me.

But I couldn't exactly let her know that.  "Remember those chocolate pop-tarts you wanted?"

She grinned. "Yeah?"

I winked at her. "If I don't see it then I'm going to assume you ate a healthy breakfast."

She ran off to overindulge in processed chocolate while I finished up the cleaning. I had ten minutes to fix Ali's hair and then we had to leave. So other than a banana, I was just going to have to deal.

***

"Jonah. Jonah." Mark was getting annoying.

"Yeah." I was leaning against a pole, dreaming about a chicken sandwich. You know those moments when you consider what you would do for a latte? My moral standards were quickly dropping.

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