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Cobalt

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        For most teens, Mondays are the worst day of the week. Although, for me, it's Tuesdays. I swear, I'll probably end up dying on a Tuesday. The day starts going downhill the second I wake up, as Brett, my brother, wakes me up at 4am because he needs to get ready for his morning jog.

        Eyes half open, I pull myself out of bed. I edge on the railing and cautiously head down the stairs. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, a loud clutter instantly awakens me and makes my eyes burst open. Brett is perhaps the most noisy person I've ever met.

        There he is, standing in front of the dishwasher, muttering profanities at the ancient china plate that 'magically slipped out' while he was trying to get his favorite water bottle out. I enter a quick jab at him for waking me up so early, and he nearly loses it.

        "Do you ever have something to say that isn't so totally negative?" He hisses, as he doesn't want to wake up Dad or Frances.

        Brett and I are total opposites. He's optimistic, I'm a pessimist. He's a workout fanatic, I treat my body like it's an amusement park. The only thing we manage to agree on, is that we're both passionate about our interests and that we're both great cooks.

         Strangely enough, I'm not in the mood to argue today, so I simply raise my hands in the air as surrender. Well, it's only four fifteen, and I'll probably despise everyone standing within a three meter radius to me within the next hour or so.

        I lean on the slick black marble counter and watch my brother, - decked out in all Nike workout gear, mind you - sweep up the broken pieces of glass. "Don't you have things to do? Homework to work on? People to gossip to?" He snaps.

        "Well of course, but I much rather spend quality time with my big brother," I smirk as I turn on the kettle behind me. If I'm gonna be up this early, might as well make a good cup of Joe.

        As Brett scoffs, his braces are exposed. I can't help but smile. A few months ago, we were playing tennis together. He was so happy because he finally got me to exit the house for some reason other than to go out with friends and/or school. Brett, being the totally competitive person he is, decides to go hard on me. I've never really played tennis other than in gym, so the outcome surely wasn't going to be in my favor.

        And long story short, Brett kept getting cheap shots on me. I got pissed at him for playing so dirty. I used all of my forces and whipped the ball at him (which accidentally hit him in the face and made his perfect pearly-whites, not so perfect).

        A week after, he was still equally angry at me, and at everyone else in Crenshaw Heights high school, whom had heard the story. There came his braces - who according to all the girls, "make him so totally attractive".

        "If you want to spend quality time with me, come jog," he smiles genuinely.

        "And third wheel with you and Robin? No thanks," I reply. Robin O'Henett's been jogging with Brett for as long as I can remember. She's practically a male version of my brother, equally as fit, and as equally peppy. They've been dating since Brett's dumped that snake, Veronica - who was sleeping around behind his back.

***

        Fourth period social studies is probably my worst subject. The teacher, Mrs Joann sucks, and so do the kids in the class. Cough, cough, nudge, nudge at Suzie Darnell who gave Connor McNeil a blowey in the Janitor's closet last year. 

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