MARKS 1

Claire Marks
861173658
Intro to Creative Writing
Section 24
Monday November 2, 2015
Stuck? Smile.

Monday: school, theatre, dinner, shower, homework, sleep.

MAKE YOUR GODDAMN BED KYLE, the prison guard yelled at the 13year-old boy. It was 7:00 in the morning and she had already drank her
coffee saturated with liquor; I believe she uses Kahlua rum, thats what I
always see in the kitchen cabinet next to the frosted flakes. My little brother,
Kyle, was used to prison already, so whenever the guard yelled he replied
with a Yes, Momma, and promptly made his bed as she ordered him to.
There really was no point in making the bed anyways, Mondays are always
when Alicia comes and cleans the house and does the laundry, but it didnt
matter to Mother. Katie waddled downstairs with her thin spaghetti ashy
blonde hair hanging along with her. Shes the strangest out of us all. She has
these dark beady jelly bean shaped eyes and this one crooked tooth on he
bottom left side of her smile and she never talks. Mother says its because
she is too goddamn smart and doesnt think it worth her while to talk to us
ignorant animals. Kyle and Katie are twins, but Katie is a freshman in high
school and Kyle is still in the seventh grade.

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Kyle, Katie, you guys ready to go? I asked while I grabbed my apple
and the car keys. Katie didnt say anything; she just grabbed her backpack
and walked outside.
I walked outside and was eternally grateful that it was finally changing
to autumn. The leaves were bright red and the cooler morning air sent bit my
skin with delight. I absolutely detest hot weather; it reminds me too much of
hell. I unlocked my black Mercedes G-Class that Daddy bought for me last
year when I turned 16. My mother and father both have one as well; its quite
adorable, we all match, except mine is black, Mothers is white, and Daddys
is silver.
I currently live in a gated community. All of the houses look the same;
theyre all painted this murky brown color that looks like God took a nasty
shit on everyones house after He ate Taco Bell. Every lawn is perfectly
manicured, just like my mothers hands. The most variety youll get in this
village is the trees, even though theres one on every other lawn. The Saters
have a blood red Maple tree. The Lewiss have a pure white westernized
Birch. I have a Coastal Redwood tree. It somewhat looks like a Christmas
tree, a gigantic Christmas tree, thats all sappy and splintery, but provides
refuge for animals who need somewhere to go. I climb it every weekend.
Good morning, Kara, Mr. Sater waved at me with his coffee in his
hand. I replied with a nod and a wave and turned on the car waiting for Kyle.
After honking the horn three times, he came running out, finally escaping the
jail cell.

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Tuesday: school, dinner, shower, homework, sleep.

I go to an all girl private Catholic school. It is a closed campus, but
because Daddy donates a generous amount of money each year, I leave
campus whenever I want without penalty. During lunch, I leave to go talk to
my churchs therapist. My parents make me go because they believe Im
struggling with depression because I never talk to them at home. They make
my little brother and sister go too. Its ironic though. Were the sane ones.

Wednesday: school, theatre, dinner, shower, homework, sleep.

School got out and Katie and I drove to St. Johns to pick up Kyle. We
waited for 23 minutes and he still hadnt come out. I would have called him,
but my mother just took his phone away because he was sexting some girl
on it. I dont get why she gets so upset about that kind of stuff. Daddy has
all these playboy magazines on his nightstand and she definitely has a black
dildo laying on hers. I parked the car and Katie and I marched inside to the
office.
Weve been waiting for a family member to come for at least 3
hours, Ms. Dee, the schools secretary said, as she stood up and pounded
her foot against the floor.
Is he okay? What happened? I asked. They knew who I was. Everyone
knew who our family was. The Martels: the upstanding, polite, giving,

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compassionate family who attends every brunch, fundraiser, and party, and
always has an exceptional Christmas card.
He illegally tackled John Ivory during a flag football game during P.E.
and yelled some inexcusable things at him. Hes in the Vice Principles office.
Right this way. She guided us down the dimly lit hallway with pictures of
copies of my daddys checks along the wall. Ms. Dee opened the door for us
and there was Kyle sitting with his legs on the table while Mr. Whitley sat at
his computer.
Hello, Kara. I wasnt expecting you to come. Where are your parents?
Mr. Whitley spoke in a curious tone.
My daddy is at work and my mother is home sick. This was the
answer I gave to most questions concerning my parentss whereabouts. It
wasnt completely dishonest; my daddy was at work, and my mother was
probably throwing up the bottle of wine she drank for lunch.
Oh okay, well Kyle here illegally tackled a boy dur-,
I cut him off. I already heard; and what is the problem with this? It
seems to me it was just two boys getting a little too competitive.
Well afterwards, he got up and shouted at the other student.
What did you say Kyle? I looked at Kyle.
I told him to get his goddamn self up. He replied in a nonchalantly.
Should you say things like that Kyle?
No, but

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Okay. Good. Mr. Whitley, Im sorry he did that. He will write a letter
apologizing to John and bring it tomorrow to school. Im sorry for all this. I
promptly pushed my chair out and grabbed Kyle and Katie by the wrists and
left before Mr. Whitley could say anything else. No one said anything as we
walked back to the car.
The fuck Kyle?! Why would you say that?! I asked him when we were
buckled in.
Well mom says it.
Ive told you so many times that you cant do what mom does. Oh my
god. We have a reputation here, and you blabbering your mouth like mother
is going to ruin that. You gotta shut up. His blue moon colored eyes looked
at me in the rearview mirror.
Yes, Sissy
Thursday: school, dinner, shower, homework, sleep.
I dropped Kyle and Katie off at home and sped to Musical Theatre
practice. I am currently in The New Yorkers with the Music Circus. Its about
these rich people in New York during the prohibition and all of their illegal
activities. Im in the ensemble. I love it. All I have to do is sing and dance and
beam my teeth as I fake the smile. Smiling while on stage is one of the most
crucial parts to theatre; even if you mess up or the stage director just yelled
at you or youre sweating underneath your layers of leotards, just smile.

Friday: school, theatre, dinner, sleep.

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After theatre practice I sluggishly drove home. It was 7 oclock when I
finally made it back. As I opened my front door all I could do was hold my
breath and smile; it was my daily ritual when coming home. I awaited the
whiff of margaritas as soon as I stepped in. My house constantly smells like a
tropical punch margarita from my mothers liquor that she has spilled
throughout the day and attempted to cover up with her favorite Hawaiian
Breeze candles and air freshener from Bath and Body Works. In our pantry
we have one side of the cupboard filled with alcohol and the other side
overflowing with a plethora of Hawaiian Breeze.
Kara, why are you home so late? My daddy asked as he lounged on
the couch with a beer.
Daddy. I tell you this every time, Im in a musical.
FRANK WHY DONT YOU PAY MORE ATTNETION TO WHAT YOUR
CHILDREN SAY OR DO! My mother yelled at my daddy in my defense as the
smell of vodka filled the air as she screamed.
Margaret do not yell at me around the children.
I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT.
They continued arguing as I made my way upstairs to check on Kyle
and Katie. Katie was reading, like she does all the time to escape the shit
downstairs. I walked towards Kyles hallway of the house and realized that his
music was blaring through the walls; you could feel the banging of the bass
in your head like someone was banging your head with a bat over and over

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again. I opened his door and all I saw was Kyle dancing on his bed with a half
empty bottle of Kahlua Rum laying on the ground.
KYLE!
Sissy!
What the fuck are you doing?! Get down!
NO! I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT! He screamed back as he
continued jumping.
Kyle! Watch out! I yelled as his right foot slipped off of the bed and
he landed on his leg, breaking it backwards through the skin. All I could see
was red and white. All I could hear was his innocent voice screaming out. All I
could hear was my parents corruptive voices screaming out. All I could think
of was this how things are. All I could do was smile.

Saturday and Sunday: criticizing, insulting, slapping, screeching.

Repeat.