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'Cause I'm Livin' my Life {part 1} This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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Waking up to the annoying sound of my cell phone alarm, I yawn groggily and open my eyes to the dark room. The 6:30 AM early morning light sneaks through the closed blinds. After silencing the alarm, I drift back to sleep until it goes off again. My sister will be bursting through the door any second now to make sure I’m awake. Another school day. Whatever. It’s not that I don’t like school; it just gets old after a while. As I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my sister burst through the door, notices I’m awake, and then leaves. At least she’s out of my hair for the moment. I change out of my pajamas and into my school clothes, which today consists of dark denim skinny jeans and a yellow “go green” tee-shirt. Ironic it’s yellow and not green. My eyes wander across my room and spot my cleats. I toss them in my back-pack along with my disgusting shin-guards. My field hockey stick is leaned up against the wall. Ah, practice again today. I grab it and run down the stairs where the lights are off. I flip them on and drop my belongings on a wooden chair before popping two slices of toast into the toaster. My mom’s footsteps echo on the stairs as she makes her way into the living room and then the kitchen. She kisses me on the forehead and says good morning. I greet her and continue preparing myself for the chaotic morning. Mornings at my house always are. No one is ever up on time and we always leave late. My sister finally makes her way downstairs in her green skirt and white polo with the inscription of “Laurel School” in the corner. Poor girl has to wear a uniform and goes to an all-girls school. I could never do that. School without guys is like a school with only adults.
“Do you have practice tonight?” my mom asks me.
“Yeah. Pick me up at 5:00 in the parking lot,” I reply. She nods and turns towards the toaster to retrieve her own toast, which was nicely placed in the toaster after mine. I listen to the sounds of peanut butter being spread on whole-wheat toast and to my sister complaining about how hard school is. I chuckle quietly to myself. Seventh grade at my school isn’t hard. Her school is probably harder, but I’m just waiting for eighth grade when the work really starts. One of my best friends, Greg, tells me if harder than sixth and seventh grade combined. One of the teachers, Mrs. Beggs, is apparently the hardest teachers some of my other eighth grade friends have ever had. She seems like it, but I do hope I get her since I think the extra challenge will be good for me. My mom and sister and running around the kitchen, trying to get things ready while my dad packs my lunch. I grab my backpack and stick before grabbing my lunch from my dad, thank him, and run out the door, beating both my mother and sister t the car.
I wait outside in the chilly weather. The weather is changing more and more. After the 80 degree weather, the 15 degree temperature change is hitting everybody pretty hard. After wearing tee-shirts and shorts, everyone is pulling out their winter coats and long pants. I tend to stick to sweatshirts and jeans. I find it less of a hassle. Mom and Victoria run out to the car. Even at the same time. I’m fairly impressed. Victoria is usually much later than my mom. She unlocks the car and I get in the front seat. My mother hops in the driver’s seat as I buckle my seatbelt. My dad waves from the back porch and I wave back. My dad is my buddy. He’s great. The car begins to descend down the driveway. I shove my backpack to my feet and tuck my field hockey stick next to the seat and turn on the radio. More morning talk shows. I hate them. No one even listens to them either. People like music, not people rambling about celebrity’s getting beat up and TV shows only low life’s watch. It’s nothing I want to listen to. My mom turns off of Oak Road onto Ivydale Road and drives to Euclid Heights Boulevard and turns left onto Taylor. The car ride is fairly silent except for the quiet mumbling of the morning talk-show host on Q104.1, my favorite radio station.
“Can we listen to the Twilight soundtrack?”My mom asks.
“Sure,” I answer. My sister nods. My mother turns off the radio and hits play for the CD and the quiet symphony of “Full Moon” comes on. The car ride is quiet until we reach Lyman Road, where my mother curses quietly about the insane traffic. She turns right onto Shelburne and then left onto Laureldale Road, where a quiet traffic flow makes it easier to navigate the crazy Lyman Circle when we approach it. We drop my sister off and then continue down Fairmount Boulevard towards my school, Roxboro Middle School. I love it there. Almost all of my friends go there and we have so much fun passing notes and mouthing things to each other. I don’t want eight grade to come and fly by and then I’ll have to figure out which private school I want to go to. I don’t want to go to private school, but I also don’t want to go to Heights High School, the local high school. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cleveland Heights has a great school district, but I don’t think that Heights is very safe. I want to go to Hawken. It’s the most expensive private school, buts its one of the only good co-ed ones. It’s going to be a difficult decision on both me and my family’s part. As we pull up in front my school, I kiss my mother good-bye and hop out of the car. After waiting for the light to change to red, I wave to my mother as she drives away. After the light turns red, I run across the street and to the front of school where my friends are waiting for the teachers to open the doors and let us inside.
Allie is walking up with Darcy, who both wave at me and smile. I smile back and wait for them to catch up. We talk as we approach the school and I go over to talk to Garth, Sam, Kevin, and Danny. They crack jokes that are kind of funny and I laugh anyway. I turn around and see Ollie and Emmie walking towards us. Ollie smiles. She’s my best friend. I don’t know what I would do without her. She is really great. Emmie is someone I love to have fun with, but were not really super close friends. Just like Allie and Darcy. I’m closer to Allie than I am to Darcy, but I still like her as a friend. We watch as the doors open, everyone hordes inside, pushing and shoving each other carelessly. Shouts echo in my head as I wait till I can easily sneak through the small door casings. I hear the early cries of my other students as I run up the stair case to my homeroom. Its smells again today.



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