The Right Mind.

Dictators, Popular Groups, and the Middle Class.

I awake to a delightful but stingy odor wavering from outside my door. That would be the only reason to get out of bed today- oh and that damn alarm clock.

I swing my arm over my chest and smack the never- shutting up- clock. It finally stops, and I grab my phone, next to it. Three texts. All from Mex.

Mex, is my best friend, and really my only friend. We met in the third grade when I had scrapped my knee at recess and she helped me walk to the nurse's. We've been friends since... Now we're in the ninth grade, and quite frankly inseparable. She's defiantly grown out of her blonde haired, chubby, cootie infested, second grader body. She's dyed her naturally blonde hair blue with purple streaks, which matches her dark blue eyes. Although, you can never really see them, behind the white glasses she insists on wearing all the time. She doesn't even need them, she just wears them because some band boy does, "...therefore I should," according to her. Her hair and her eyes aren't the only way she's changed. The way her chest and hips curve just prove she's grown. She actually looks like her mom- minus the glasses and dyed hair.

Her mom... a widower of eleven months now. Poor woman; always inside, never talking too much, never attracting too much attention. Although she could easily get a boyfriend or marry again, with her attractive appearance, she doesn't. And I don't blame her. It sucks losing someone you love.

My parents have been gone for two years now and it still sucks just as bad as it did when I found out. Sucks bad...

I wipe the gunk from my eyes and look at the three texts.

What are you gonna wear tomorrow?

I'm wearing this really hot purple tee and some blue leggings.

Literally life! XD

Sent yesterday at 1:22 AM.

All sent in the same minute. She must be really excited.

Yeah, like I actually thought about what I'm wearing! I text back. I yawn and struggle to reach my legs over the bed's seemingly never ending expanse. Ugh. I think. I'm too old for this. Although I'm only sixteen, my life basically sucks. Too drastic, I've heard. Let me tell you my backstory.

At the wonderful age of six when the world is supposed to be so fun and happy, my parents died. The everyone says it was "their time," but I knew better. They were druggies. I'm okay with the fact they died on their own account, it's just... I never had a childhood. They left me alone; a six year old boy oblivious to the fact that he'll never see his parents again, left alone to face the world alone, and scared.

After their death, my Aunt Laurie adopted me graciously, allowing my "weird ass" to live with her. "Weird ass." That's what she called me when I first slept at her house. Now almost eleven years later, she still does. But regardless, I know she loves me just as much as I love her. When Aunt Laurie welcomed me into her home, it meant I had to travel almost entirely across the country from Los Angeles, California to a small farmhouse in a small town in southern Ohio. Not a graceful transaction but I'd just have to work with it. My first impression of the bold, white, two- story farmhouse wasn't exactly love at first sight. It was dirty and the paint was peeling everywhere, I wasn't convinced I wanted to spend the next few years here. So I promised myself that if I could gather enough money, I would move back to L.A. But then, that crazy thing happened to me: life. I didn't want to leave, I was content, and plus I think I would probably kill everyone with grief.

"Alex, are you ready yet?!" My aunt screamed to me.

"Mmm!" I screamed back. I walked over to my closet and picked a pair of dark jeans, and a faded band tang- top. To be classy for picture-day I put a plaid blue and purple shirt over the band tang. Good enough. I thought.