HARPER

Do you ever wake up in the morning and like, not want to do that? You know, wake up? I feel like it’s a waste of my time and I could be doing more productive things such as sleeping. Not that I'm lazy or anything, it’s just that I believe that it should be illegal to wake up before at least 7:30. Especially to waste eight hours learning something I’ll likely never use again. Not that I don't like school and think it’s useless. I just believe that we spend a lot of time learning things that we don’t exactly need to know.

“Harper! Get up! You and your fat head are gonna make us late,” my annoying older brother Amir yells, barging into my room and interrupting my routinely morning inner monologue. He’s the second oldest after my older brother, Keiton. After that, I have a younger brother, but he’s ot even half as annoying as Amir.

“Shut up and get out! We literally left in an hour and a half,” I bark back.

“Well you know it takes you 75% of that time to do something with that mop on your head. You look like you haven’t done your hair in ages. It’s like a wild sheep’s coat,”

In his defense, my hair does have a mind of its own. It’s not that I try to tame my frizzy 4c hair, it’s just that it doesn’t seem to like me enough to listen. Which is fair if you think about it. I wouldn’t like someone who touches and twists me either.

“Shouldn’t you be texting your girlfriend good morning or something? Instead of being annoying and bothering me. Or did she finally grow half a brain in the idiot head and dump you?” I shoot back at him.

“Why would Shauna dump me? She knows I’m the only one for her. I can literally get anyone I want unlike you. You can’t keep a relationship going even if your life depended on it. And don’t call her an idiot, bum. Who do you think you are?” he retorts, protecting that miserable welp he calls a girlfriend. 

“Boy, you know exactly who I am.” I answer, finally getting out of bed and brushing past him to get to our messy shared bathroom. The mess isn’t my fault anymore since I cleared out my stuff yesterday. Therefore I can’t be blamed. “And that bummy little girlfriend of yours better know to,”

“Oh please. What’chu gonna do about it. You won’t fight her. You’re afraid it will change that little good girl front you keep up. And your itty-bitty self don’t even come up to her shoulder, midget,” 

“Oh brother dearest, you should know by now that I don’t have to fight her to ruin her. That’s where the brain comes in handy. I think they might sell them on Ebay now. You should try to get a buy one get one deal. For you and your girlfriend,” I say before closing the bathroom door.

”Get ready, psycho.” he conceded.

I’m in the bathroom for an equivalent of like eight seconds, before there’s a heavy-handed knock on the door.

“For the love of the Lord, go away!” I answer, thinking it’s Amir back for Round 2.

The door opens and an average height Black woman walks in fully clothed in modern business attire.

”Girl, you better watch who you talking to. The Lord’ll have to show you all the love after I tear you all the way up,” she says.

If I ever say I wasn’t terrified a little of my mother, then get rid of that version of me. It’s not the real one. I’m not saying that she’s terrible and likes to scare her kids, but she is one imposing lady. And sometimes we get into it. 

The whole problem is that we are two totally different people, with opposite personalities that tend to clash. She’s always been a super serious, take-no-BS, kind of woman. I’ve always been a kind and friendly person. Where her attitude is out 24/7, mine only comes out when provoked. 

The other reason we don’t really get along is the fact that I don’t really stay out of trouble when it comes to her rules. Now, I’m no bad kid, but sometimes I have my moments where I act a fool. But that’s a story for another time. Basically, I love that woman with everything in me, but sometimes I wanna poison her green tea. Nothing deadly though. I’m sure she thinks the same about me.

“I thought you were going to braid your hair for the new year. What’s all this?” she says, waving at the nest on my head I call hair.

“I was going to, but we had to pack, remember? I’m planning to do it when I get to Keiton’s,” I tell her.

“Don’t be going over there making your brother’s life hard. Do you hear me?” 

“Yes, ma’am. Can you tell him not to make mine hard either? I’m already going to start attending school with the rich white folk. I can’t handle all that,”

She walks up behind me and begins doing my hair for me like she used to do when I was younger. “That’s your own fault, but I didn’t raise you to complain. You can handle it, you just need to focus. Rich white folk ain’t got nothing on my baby. So stop whining and get ready to leave for LA. Do you need a ride?” 

A couple of months ago, I received a letter from a private school in Los Angeles, California. After lots of intense research, I learned that the school, Pricetown Private, was one of the best high schools in America. Many celebrities and billionaires sent their kids there, so it was one very well known and revered school. We didn’t have the money to pay for such a school, but I was offered a full scholarship with everything paid for. 

My mom believes it was to up their diversity ratings, so at first she was against it. That and the fact that I’d have to move to California. After lots of persuasion, she allowed me to stay with my older brother in his condo in LA. I’m leaving today to head that way.

“No, you can leave. Amir’s gonna drive me up to the airport before he leaves for school,” I inform her.

“Tryna get rid of me already?” she half-jokes.

“Nah, it’s just that you have to leave for work. These bills don’t pay themselves. Plus, I’m nowhere near ready to leave, and you have to drive all the way to Dallas,”

“Well okay, Miss Sass. Go be an adult in Hollywood with your preppy little uniform,” she says, squeezing me in a hug and walking away.

“Bye Ma! I’ll call you when I land!” I shout after her.

“Goodbye, girl. It’s 7:30. You got 30 minutes to get out of here,” she says before shutting the front door behind her.

Ah, dang, thirty minutes isn’t enough time to do anything. All these people stay bothering me and now I'm over here running around like a chicken without a head, tripping over oxygen.

Finally, five minutes before we have to walk out of the house, I’m ready. 

“C’mon, Harper! We’re gonna miss the plane because of your slow butt,” My brother yells over the donut my dad bought.

“Language!” my dad yells back.

He waddles over to me with a box of a dozen assorted donuts. Yes, I meant waddles. It’s something he randomly did when he was happy. And considering the fact that he didn't have to leave until 10 today, he was probably pretty happy.

“Donut, dear child of mine?” he asks. My dad’s the total opposite of my mom. Where my mom lacks, like in physical affection, my dad makes up for it. Where my dad lacks in, like tough love, my mom makes up for it. It’s a pretty nice dynamic, but for obvious reasons, people gravitate toward my dad. Not because my mom’s mean or anything — my dad’s just a lot nicer than her.

I take a donut, tell my dad goodbye, and follow my brother out to his car that he’s called his baby. He bought his Mustang last year in his junior year. He refused to give up his car even when my dad offered to buy him a new one multiple times. I mean, he did buy his own car with his own money. I don’t think I’d want to give that up either.

“Alright let’s get going, loser before you miss your flight. It’s time to meet new people. Try not to be too much of a jerk. Aka, don’t be yourself. They’ll hate your guts that way,” my brother says, pulling out the driveway.

“Shut that gaping hole in your face. It’s pissing me off,”

He chuckles and we ride off to my brand new start at Pricetown Private School in the great state of California. 

Totally not nervous at all.