Notorious

2. The bluebird sings at midnight.

• Mackenzie •

.

.

.

.

.

So I opened my eyes, right? Then I was like, that was a really good sleep. But then I checked the time and thought: well, crap, I slept in.

The first thing I do is place my arm over my eyes and groan in frustration, contemplating whether I should continue my sleep anyway since I'm already late and just call it a day or get my ass out of bed and hurry before I miss first period.

I jolt as the door suddenly bursts open.

"Mac, the alarms didn't go on!" Jessie points out.

"No shit," I utter, getting out of bed.

"We have about ten minutes before first session starts," he reminds me.

I narrow my eyes at him for a moment. "Is the bathroom occupied?"

See, our house may not be that small, but it's not a huge-ass mansion either. There are about three bathrooms, and, usually, this early in the morning, only one is available. And it happens to be the one right across the hall that Jessie and I share. And, having a brother who spends more time staring at his reflection in the mirror than he does just about anything else, you gotta get to that damn bathroom before he does or you're screwed.

"Nope," he replied, quickly darting out of the room.

"Oh, no you don't!" I snap.

The second I catch up with him, I grunt and lunge at him, grabbing his legs and watching him fall to the ground.

"MOM, MAC'S ATTACKING ME!" he yells, as I pull him back and get to my feet, jumping past his figure.

Before I can get too far, Jessie knocks me to the ground the way I did to him a second ago and hops up, proudly rushing over to the door which was less than three feet away from him now.

But I sure as hell wasn't gonna give up that easily. I scramble up and push him away from the bathroom door, and, right at that moment, mom opens hers. Needless to say, Jessie bumps into her door and falls to the ground as I burst into fits of laughter, locking myself in the bathroom.

"Mooommm," I hear Jessie groan painfully.

"My baby!" she wails. "Well what the damn hell were you doing behind my door?"

"I dunno," he complains.

"I raised a dumb child," she tuts.

I snort unattractively as I twist the shower's knob and hot water spills out of the faucet. Undressing, I take a quick shower. Afterwards, I freshen up and come to the abrupt realization that I don't have my clothes. Luckily, the hallway's empty, so, taking a deep breath, I wrap the towel around my body and make a beeline to my bedroom.

I quickly dry up and wear the first clothes I see in my closet. A casual white short-sleeved shirt, black leggings, converse, and a black visor beanie over my long, wavy hair. I swing my school bag over my shoulder and head downstairs to the kitchen where my mom and dad are having breakfast.

"There's my little beautiful daughter!" My dad greets me.

I smile but can't help but roll my eyes at the phrase. Since I'm the youngest and his only daughter, he always feels the need to spoil me. You know, with the random nicknames and the constant 'if you want that, I'll buy it for you, sweetheart' and 'you'll always be my little girl' sort of thing. Though, to his secret disdain, I'm just another son. There's no spoiling me.