The Ivy League

The Ivy League Part 46

The Ivy League Part 46

          I awoke the next morning to someone’s persistent poking. I cracked an eye open to see David sitting on my bed, looking fascinated as he poked my ribs. It was awhile before he noticed my silent glaring, and he gave a huge gasp, hurriedly scooting far away.

          “Oh, hi Courtney!” he said in tones of great surprise.

          I didn’t respond, but my face must have said it all. Unfortunately, my brothers have known me for far too long to be intimidated by a simple look. Cracking an evil grin, David made his second – and fatal – mistake this morning.

          He leaned over and gave me another good, hard poke that would leave a bruise.

          I lunged for him and he let out a terrified yell, getting tangled in my covers and went tumbling off the edge of my bed. I enjoyed the sound of the thud that he made.

          I lazily rolled over to witness him fight his way out of the knotted sheets, only trapping himself in more. “Courtney, I’m sorry!” his muffled voice floated out from the white, struggling mass. “But it was all mom’s idea!”

          “Sure,” I replied sarcastically, dangling my leg off the edge, contemplating whether I should kick him or not.

          His enormous chocolate-brown eyes finally appeared and he gazed at me earnestly. “I swear! Mom’s precise words were ‘Davey,’” he imitated our mother’s voice in a breathy falsetto, “‘Son, why don’t you go poke your sister awake?’ So I did!”

          I rolled my eyes and gave a huge yawn. Yep, that sounded like her. My dad would’ve suggested something more along the lines of, “Hey kiddo, why don’t you raise that sister of yours up from the land of the dead? Here’s a pitcher of water to do it.”

          “Alright, alright, I’m up,” I yawned again, getting tears in my eyes from the force of it. “Where’s the fire anyway? It’s only eight.”

          “Yeah...” David trailed off, still happily wrapped in my sheets like a mummy, “Apparently school starts in ten minutes.”

          I laughed. “Don’t be silly, there’s no school – OH HOLY MOTHER, THERE’S SCHOOL TODAY!” I screeched, lurching out of bed and tripping over my brother.

          I ignored his thudded protest and scrambled to my closet, huffing. But the next moment I scowled. You know what? I don’t think so.

          I stumbled down the staircase of Doom, lurching like a drunken woman, and graced everyone downstairs with my presence by making a dramatic appearance.

          “I object!”

          “What is it this time?” My dad looked over at me with a bored expression, holding a cup of coffee.

          I scowled. “There shouldn’t be school two days before Christmas frickin’ Eve!”

          “Language,” someone mildly commented.

          I ignored them. “There’s no logical reason for me to go to school,” I continued, as Julie floated by in her bathrobe.

          “Oh? Do tell,” my mom invited me, getting comfortable beside my dad and putting her feet on his lap.

          “First off, it’s unethical,” I stated grandly, ignoring the amused, good-luck-with-that-one look that my uncle sent my way. “Christmas is a time for the family to be together, and they are robbing us—” I paused to let the emotional aspect of that set in, “—they are robbing us of precious family time as we celebrate Jesus’ birth.”