My alarm goes off. I reach my hand from underneath my covers. I move it over to the bedside table and search around for my alarm clock. The beeping continues, and I still can't find my clock. I'll have to open my eyes.

   The sun shines through my window. I squint and sit up, rubbing my eyes. The light stings. I look down at the bedside table. My alarm isn't there. I look around my room. I see my face in the mirror. I forgot to remove my makeup. The beeping still continues. "Chai tea?"

   Standing in the doorway is my mother, holding my alarm clock like it's a precious gem. "Hi mom."

   "Chai tea, sweetie, you over-slept."

   I cringe. "Chai tea" is the nickname she gave me when my father was still alive. I used to think it was hilarious, but now it's just stupid and embarrassing. I roll my eyes. "Why did you move it?" I ask her.

   A smile spreads across her face. "So you would come and get it." she winks.

   It occurs to me that if I had to go get it, I'd have to get out of bed. I moan and roll my eyes once more. I stretch and move my legs from out of the covers. I stand up, and I slump. I slowly trudge over to my mother and hastily take my alarm clock. I look at my mother in annoyance and angrily punch the button to make it stop beeping. I toss it on my bed and look at my mom. She still stands there. I raise an eyebrow. "Well, aren't you going to work?" I retort.

   She turns around and looks over her shoulder. "I got the day off" she explains. "Hurry up. You need to get to school on time. Remember last Thursday?"

   "Yeah I remember." I whine. I was an hour late to school on Thursday because my toast was burnt, the traffic was bad, all the worst possible things that could happen.

   My mom blows me a kiss and walks out. I sigh. She has got to be the most cheerful person on the face of this planet, which makes no sense because I have to be the most negative person in the whole universe. My life was turned upside down after my dad passed away, and I was only 12. My mother and I just travel everywhere because she can't ever find a good job. Right now we live in an apartment building in Mississippi, right along the Mississippi River. My mom works as a cashier at Target. I'm a senior in high school. This has got to be the best part of my life so far, except, I have no friends.

   People judge me based on my past.

   Have you ever felt that feeling? People judge you, they tease you, they crush you. The world is a sick place. No one listens to you. You are like a little bug flying around trying to find home, but then you get crushed by a shoe or fly-swatter. Or at least, that's what I think.

   I brush my dark brown hair, parted down the middle, as always. I put on very little makeup because I hate the grainy feeling of it. Plus, I look more like my dad then my mom. I have the same nose, eyes, and hair color as him. I have my mom's face shape and small lips. I try my best not to hide my dad's features because they are special to me.

   I get dressed. I put on a dark brown sweater that drapes over one shoulder and not the other. I wear tight jeans and some flats. I grab my phone and walk to the kitchen. My mother is cooking something that smells like a chocolate factory. "What are you cooking?" I ask. She looks at me and smiles. "You look nice." she tells me. I grunt. "I asked you a question." I say to her, raising my voice. She blinks in surprise, and she looks taken aback. "Oh, well, I'm cooking chocolate chip pancakes, your favorite." She mutters in her gentle voice. I notice that she probably feels guilty for annoying me. Her frown kind of gives it away.

I walk up to her and hug her. "I love you mom. You are the best, even though sometimes you can get on my nerves." I whisper to her. She squeezes me like a stress ball. "Charlotte, honey, you are the sweetest." She exclaims. I pull back and look at her. "Now, should we eat some pancakes?"