“Incoming!”

I heard the shouted warning moments before my brother Pete flung my door open and launched a balled-up pair of dirty gym socks at my head, slamming the door behind him.

It was kind of a dick move, but I had recently given him permission to do this if I slept past my second alarm. I was seriously beginning to regret that decision.

I glanced at my phone and sighed. He’d been well within his rights. I hated being rushed in the morning, but that was my usual state on school days.

I’d thought operation sock grenade might work as negative reinforcement and get me out of bed on time. So far, after a two-week trial run, all it had accomplished was making my room smell vaguely of adolescent boy—the socks leaving behind their own odiferous cloud even after they’d been removed.

“Jesus, I’m up!” I yelled.

“Are not!” Pete yelled back, his voice retreating. “And my name’s not Jesus!”

I groaned as I got out of bed, resenting the cold that seeped through the floorboards.

My sheer curtains did nothing to block the morning sun. I squinted my eyes against the invasion of light. The pale yellow walls struck me as absurdly cheerful in the morning. Whose idea was that color, anyway, and why did morning have to come so early every day?

As my first order of business I kicked the sock bomb into the hallway. Then it was time to get ready to face the day.

I took a very quick shower, since the little cretin had used up most of the hot water. Pete had discovered girls as an eighth grader, and now he felt the need to be well groomed—which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on how it affected my morning routine.

Actually, not being able to smell Pete from all the way down the hallway was a bonus since he no longer relied on body spray to mask his odor. That stuff was toxic. I could deal with the occasional cold shower. If I wanted hot water I could get my butt out of bed sooner. Yet another motivation for waking up when the first alarm sounded.

I ran my fingers through my hair to tease out the few snarls. My black hair was almost long enough that I’d have to start using a comb, or get a trim. I put in my collection of mismatched earrings and my silver nose hoop. I'd felt naked without them during my brief stint as a business professional.

When I eventually became a grown-ass human, I hoped I could find a job where I could dress as myself and not as Jennifer Xiong. Nothing against the Jennifer Xiongs of the world. The way she dressed suited her fine. To be fair, even Jennifer didn't wear full-on business attire to school.

I pulled on my favorite pair of well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt with “human” spelled out in the colors of different queer flags. I had an entire selection of gay-themed T-shirts to choose from. They were what I wore to school nearly every day.

I stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen where Pete was already eating breakfast. He was wearing what my mom called “the one true hoodie,” a light gray sweatshirt worn threadbare at the cuffs. His reddish hair was starting to show some of its natural curl; he was overdue for a trim as well.

“That shirt is sooo gay,” Pete said when I slid in beside him at the kitchen counter.

“Thanks.” I stole a piece of peanut butter toast from his plate.

“Hey! Some of us were eating that!”

“Some of us still are,” I said with a mouth full of peanut butter, enjoying the scowl he sent my way.

Pete hopped off the stool and went to make himself another piece of toast. “Mom said you have to give me a ride to school today since I have rehearsal and she doesn’t want me bringing my cello on the bus.”

I rolled my eyes. “You musicians are so entitled.”

“Yes, we are, and you are my roadie for the day.” Pete wolfed down his toast while standing by the kitchen sink.

“Ready?” he asked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and making his way towards the front hall. His cello in its soft gig-bag was already waiting by the front door.

“Slow down. There’s plenty of time. Why don’t you text your little friends or something while I finish up here. Also, who says roadie?”

"I do, apparently." He took out his phone and started texting with someone or other.

When my mom appeared at the top of the stairs there was something in her face that led me to believe she was about to deliver some unpleasant news.