Krista rushed to our car, claiming the front seat. Mom would be crazy if she let Krista go in the front seat. She's only a year old, for heaven's sake.
Nothing more of simply shaking her head. "When you're older, honey." I could already predict how dreadful this summer would be. Staying at home reading comics would be better.
I play some music, specifically P!ATD. Many people like them, I understand. Ah, my reflection was shown on the window. I had no emotions, nor I had that cut I got from last week, which I tripped on the sidewalk.
Hey, I don't have jerks bullying me. I don't have an abusive mother. But I have an average life. Do I hate it? Kinda.
"Anybody need a bathroom break?" Mom inquired. Beth, Krista, and I didn't need a bathroom break. "No."
"You kids sure?"
"Yes." Our voices clash together.
"How about snacks? Do-"
"YES!" I stick my bookmark in some novel about an astronaut accidentally entering the wrong ship, controlled by aliens.
Dumb, right? I agree. Beth always titled me as a dork, getting that book increased her name calling.
Stepping out of the car, my toes touch the concrete. A sign at the gas station's window caught my view. Singing competition? Pffft, I'm never going to win that. I don't sing, even if I did, I'd sound average.
I know it, trust me. Heck, I don't think I'll get involved anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Average
HumorPlain, boring life. That's what I go by. Nothing about me is special, I guess you could say I'm average.
