It Started With A High Top

“Anne! Get your ass down here now or I swear to god, I will dismember you!” my older brother, Daniel, shouts from downstairs.

“I’m coming!” I shout back as I slip on my old pair of shoes. I really need new shoes. Maybe I’ll go to the store after school or something.

“Now!” Daniel shouts, “Or I’m leaving you and you can walk to school on your first day!”

“I’m coming!” I shout louder.

Stupid school, why do I have to wake up so early?

I skip down the stairs and grab an apple from the bowl then jump into the back seat of Daniel’s silver Audi.

“Finally,” my other two brothers groan in unison as we reverse out of our driveway.

I roll my eyes and bite down on my apple. This is basically my morning routine. I wake up every morning twenty minutes later than I should because “five more minutes” just doesn’t cut it for me anymore and then I get ready in ten minutes while my three brothers scream at me and threaten to decapitate me.

I think the most important thing school has taught me is how to get ready in less than five minutes.