Attitude?

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4:30 PM, track practice is finally over. Sweat still drips from my face like rain from a cloud. My once blue shirt is now navy, full of sweat. Muscles aching, joints throbbing, I am very sore. One would think that I would be excited to go home. Happy I am not, for I know the work continues.

As I enter my house, I hear the boiling of water and the sizzling of a frying pan. Mom is home and cooking dinner. This means that she probably is not so cheery. Coming home from work and doing chores would make anyone cranky. I hear my father’s car roll up the driveway. The crunching sound of tires rubbing against cement startles me. Dad is home, and just like mom, is probably not in a good mood.
The door bangs as I walk in the door. “Hi honey, how was school?” my mom asks.
“Fine.” Too many thoughts of too much homework are rushing through my head. I have no time for chit chat.
“Don’t give me that attitude,” my mom replies.
“What attitude?”
“That attitude!”

I roll my eyes and walk towards the stairs.

“I have a lot to do, I can’t talk mom.” I answer, this time with attitude.

My bag is so heavy I feel as though my arm might fall off. Multicolored binders, scribbled papers, and broken pencils are crammed into a small tote. The bag is usually big enough, but tonight my teachers have decided to pile on the work.
I pull out my binder and begin writing. Heaps and heaps of flashcards begin to accumulate, all colorful and with words sloppily written all over them. An hour passes; I am still working on those flashcards. I watch the clock.
“Kathryn!” I hear someone yelling downstairs. My name echoes through the house as though it were a fire alarm.
“Yeah?” I answer. No reply. “Yes?” Still no reply. “What!” I shout.
“Do not answer me like that! I am tired of this attitude, Missy, you’re grounded.”
Anger burns inside of me. I too am tired. I feel like my head is going to explode. But, it doesn’t matter, because I am grounded.





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