Make it Big, Nevada

Section 1: Summer Nightmare

I literally jumped out of my bed when my alarm screamed at me to get up. I was relieved to be awake, because I had been having a nightmare about it being time for the first day of school. Again. I didn't know how I was going to survive my summer. I would almost rather be at school than having first day nightmares for three months!

I sighed and quietly slid out of my bed. I pulled my pink covers over the top of my bed. In my standards, my bed was now made. Patting the comforter, my thoughts wandered about what a pretty shade it was. Pink had always been my favorite. I know people think I should've out grown the 'pink phase' by now, but I wasn't planning on that anytime soon.

I didn't brush my teeth. I don't think I get that morning breath. With that, I ran downstairs to make myself some breakfast. My waist-long hair flopped against my back as I bounced down the stairs. I skipped over to the pantry and gasped when I saw that my mother had bought some pancake mix! I clapped and reached for the box and missed by only a few inches.

"Darn these short arms and stubby legs of mine!" I complained to myself. I had never been very tall, compared to other girls my age. I sighed and pushed a chair to the pantry. With the assistance of a chair I could finally reach it. I stupidly grinned and stood there for a moment.

I mixed the batter all up and plopped a spoonful onto the hot skillet. I dumped the gooey dishes into the sink. I listened to the sizzle of the pancakes, satisfied with myself. I had always considered myself a natural for this kind of stuff. I figured it would cook for a while, so I might as well get dressed. I had bought a sequined pink shirt yesterday, so I pulled that on. I wore a cute denim skirt I found on the floor under my bed. I was a little confused because I didn't remember ever seeing it before, but I didn't care much.

I still wasn't allowed to wear any makeup, but I thought differently than my parents. I knew I could wear it light enough that they wouldn't even notice. I had stolen some of my mom's mascara and eye liner the previous night. Clutching purple eye shadow, I recalled the survey I took online for blue eye makeup techniques. I smiled at myself in the mirror, hoping that somehow that would give me some inspiration.

"You've got this, Nevada. You can do it." Talking was kind of a hobby of mine.

After beautifying myself, I figured my pancakes would be done. When I checked on them, they smelt awful! They were all black and smaller than normal. Smoke billowed out from the messed up breakfast. I had practically killed my own children!

'No, no, no!' I shrieked within my thoughts. I scrambled for the rubber spatula in the cluttered drawers. 'Oh Mom,' I thought, 'you can't even keep your own house organized?' I finally found the spatula and cleaned off the charred skillet. Apparently, smell drifts far. Only a few minutes later, my mother came downstairs to interrogate me about why I had "stunk up the whole house."

"What have you done?" My mother demanded. She always freaked me out when she was mad. She was tall, unlike me, and always got huge bug eyes to emphasize her frustrations.

"I, um, made breakfast. For me," I shyly said, not looking her in the eyes.

"What kind of breakfast? A rock?"

"No, no, goodness, no!" I laughed. "I was trying to make pancakes!"

"Oh, honey, you know I don't want you making food on the grill yet! You're lucky it was just the pancakes getting the harm done, and not you," she gestured over my direction.

"Why do you baby me so much? I'm not as helpless as you would expect, mother!" I spat out the last part, my mood changing completely.

"We have this conversation everyday, and I'm not going to explain it again. And what is this?" My mother wiped her thumb along my eyelid.

"Makeup." I glared at her.

"First Graders do not wear makeup."

I didn't know what to say to that. She just looked at me, her green eyes reflecting disappointment from within her. I sulked down in place. I felt like I was in some sort of court interrogation, so I did what I needed to do- leave. I slowly trudged up the stairs, thinking of how depressing my defeat was.

"Mom?" I asked.

She turned to look at me, her long arms folded over her chest.

"I'm actually a second grader." I quickly smart mouthed. I ran upstairs before I could receive one more word of a lecture. I slammed the door to my bedroom and snickered at my own joke.