Saving Everest (Wattpad Books Edition)

9. Beverly

Have you ever woken up with the bright sun welcoming you, the birds outside chirping, and you didn't seem to mind? You lay there in bed thinking that you were happy just to be alive?

If you haven't, then I'm sorry, because on this particular morning, I was happy to be alive—to hear those birds and feel the warmth of the sun coming from the window. My thoughts were too big to fit in my twin bed. I was thinking about nothing at all, but everything. I knew that didn't make sense, but it did to me.

"Beverly!" the voice cut through my reverie. "Come on, get up and clean this place, it's a wreck."

The Friday morning feeling soon died. I checked the time and I had about an hour and some change to get ready for school. As I walked into the hall, I peeked into my mother's bedroom, where she was sound asleep. A burning smell came from the kitchen, and when I entered, my aunt, Macy, lit a cigarette.

She must have spent the night, because she was wearing clothes that were wrinkled, and her once heavy makeup was smeared.

"You shouldn't really smoke in here, it takes a while to get the smell out," I said, opening the fridge and pulling out some orange juice.

"Maybe, but some cleaning around here will get the smell out. It's a mess here. Your mom works hard. The least you can do is clean up," she lectured, taking another puff from her cigarette, her long hot-pink nails harboring the cancer stick.

I glanced around the kitchen and saw dishes piled high in the sink, a Chipotle bag on the floor, ashes from cigarettes lay- ing around, garbage filled to capacity, and an empty wine bottle sitting on the stove. My mother told me she didn't have any gas to come and pick me up, but she had enough money for her little adult get-together last night.

I swallowed the frustration. I had nothing to do with this mess—I came straight home and went to sleep. Throwback music, smoke, and laughter filled the living room all last night, but I didn't mind. I just didn't understand why I had to clean up their mess.

"I'll clean it," I replied, gripping the glass of my orange juice tight.

My aunt Macy is like my second mother. She was there for my mom before I was even a thought. They'd been best friends since sixth grade. And when my mom and I left after my dad died, Macy came with us; they've always been two against the world.

"Yeah, you have to pick up your weight aroun—" Her obnox- ious ringtone cut her off and she answered her phone.

I placed bread in the toaster and ate a banana while I waited for my toast.

"Seriously? . . . but . . . I can't . . . please," she argued into her phone as I sipped more of my orange juice.

She hung up, and her head drooped low, her long black hair covering her face. She pulled on the long stands and groaned. Sitting up, she took another puff from her cig. I tried to ignore her, but her constant groaning was an obvious sign that she wanted me to ask her what was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I asked cautiously.

"My job interview is at the same time I have to pick up Manny from school."

It wasn't not surprising that Macy would want to get a second job. The pay at the salon sucked.

"Didn't he just start at that new private school?" I asked, remembering that Manny was one of my favorite people in the entire world. He was eleven, but had a much older mentality. Manny was the brother I never had.

"Yeah, you know where Carnegie Pine is?" she asked.

"Right around the corner from Nesbits' bowling alley?"