The Ivy League

The Ivy League

I stretched happily, loving the warmth of my bed. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was my alarm clock. 

"AHHHH!" 

Thundering steps could be heard on the stairs, and then the door to my bedroom burst open as my uncle barreled in. 

"Oh, hello,"  I greeted him pleasantly, pulling the covers as high as they would go.

"Courtney. What's. Wrong?" he panted. 

"Nothing," I reassured him, "it's just that I thought for a moment that my first day of school was starting in ten minutes." 

He looked at me. "It is starting in ten minutes." 

I processed this.  

"AHHHH!" 

He gave an irritated sound. "Courtney, stop yelling! How could this come as a surprise? I asked you ten minutes ago if you were getting ready and you answered 'well, duh!' in response." 

"I did?" I asked him curiously. "Huh. That's very interesting. I had no idea that people could sleep-talk, too." 

"Courtney," my uncle said in exasperation, "you have five minutes to get your sorry butt downstairs or I am tying you by the hair to the Mercedes and dragging you there." 

"Hang on," I said, holding up one finger as I sat up and pulled my cell phone towards me, "I need to put Kids' Help Phone on my speed dial." 

"Four minutes left," he growled. 

I gulped. "Um, some privacy would be nice, please." 

He crossed the room, turned, wiggled four fingers at me and closed the door shut. The moment he was gone, I booked it to my closet for all I was worth.  

"Nuts, nuts, nuts!" I wailed, desperately pulling out clothes. I was trying to break my habit of swearing and still needed a little work on my substitutions.  

I pulled on the first pair of jeans I could find, which were light blue and tight. They looked good, but I couldn't get rid of a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that there was a reason I had stopped wearing them lately. No reason being remembered, I kept them on and then threw on an olive-green long-sleeved shirt with a V-neck. It was a simple outfit, but it looked good. I hastily stuffed a few binders and notebooks into my purple shoulder bag, and then tried to do something with my hair. 

The green of the shirt highlighted my tanned skin and naturally-dark lips and gave a gloss to my brunette wavy hair. But since that hair currently looked like a nest of squirrels had been square-dancing in it all night, I couldn't wear it down and had to content myself with pulling it into a neat-but-messy bun at the top of my head. 

A few strokes of mascara later, I was on my way downstairs, shoes in hand. Unfortunately, one of the shoelaces got stuck in the door of my bedroom and I tripped over them, tumbling all the way down the stairs which were right outside my bedroom door. 

I landed in a heap. 

For the second time that day, I heard my uncle's hasty steps. He came pounding out of the kitchen and stopped in the main hallway upon seeing me sprawled at the foot of the stairs. 

"Um, Courtney?" he asked for the second time that day, too. "What came crashing down?" he asked apprehensively. 

Picking myself up, I personally thought it was obvious, but maybe he didn't want to believe his niece might require the use of stair gates. 

"You mean what came crashing down besides my bag and my dignity?" I snapped. "Me. Now let's go." 

I pulled on my shoes and he did the same. "How did you manage to fall down the stairs?" 

"I tripped on my shoelaces." 

He gave me a strange look. "You tripped on your shoelaces when you weren't even wearing shoes?" he asked. 

"Yep, that's just how I roll. Or how I tumble, I guess. Ha ha, geddit?" I said, incredibly lamely. 

He shook his head and we headed outside to the Mercedes that I was threatened with. I began to make my way over to the passenger seat, but he stopped me. He was looking apprehensive and also like he might be regretting something. I was guessing he was regretting taking me in. 

His next words surprised me, though. "Um," he cleared his throat and holding up the keys. "I was actually planning on letting you know under slightly less chaotic circumstances, but this is your car now," he said, holding out the keys.  

I blinked at him. "Actually?" 

"Yes. Now just take the keys before I do something mature and forbid you to drive, seeing as you can barely manage walking." 

I snatched the keys quickly, but gave him a sweet smile. "Thank you!" 

I circled around and got into the driver's seat, swinging my bag onto the passenger's seat, like I'd seen kids with cars do at my old school. 

"Oof!" 

"Whoops," I said, turning to see my uncle in that seat with the bag having just hit him in the face. "Sorry, didn't notice you there." 

He apparently decided that no answer was the best answer when it came to me and my stupidity around relatives. 

"Just drive." 

"Okay," I agreed, leaving the gates of his huge mansion of a house far behind, I was on my way to my first day of school.