16 Reasons My Life Sucks by Sara Walker (you can read anyone txt) 📕

trying in vain to grab it back.
“C’mon, Reynolds, jump for it!”
And being the idiot I was I jumped for it…and missed. He laughed at me,
along with the rest of the class.
“C’mon, jump for it! You can do it, Reynolds!”
I stood and tried to grab it again to no avail. “Give it back, Matt.”
He shook his head and ran around the room, still clutching my backpack. I
chased him, and he finally stopped. I stood a few feet away from him, glaring.
“Give it back.”
He smiled, a perfect smile, reached into my back, pulled out a wallet sized
picture and threw the bag back at me.
He really is a jerk.
Anyway, I set up the last picture and fell back to Beth’s bed.
I was feeling a little bad. I hadn’t told Beth about my mom’s career
switch. And Beth was the person I told practically EVERYTHING to
(exceptions: my romantic life (mainly because I really haven’t had any), my
personal physical condition, my bad grades, etc.).
But it just didn’t feel right, telling her. I mean, I wasn’t even used to it yet.
My mom had always been an English teacher. And now she was going to be a
bus driver. It was a plain fact.
So, why couldn’t I tell Beth? Well…I was kind of embarrassed.
Don’t get me wrong: bus drivers can be cool. But I just didn’t see my
mother as ANYTHING other than a teacher.
“You okay?” Beth asked me.
I had just realized that I was sitting really stiffly on the edge of her bed.
“Oh, yeah. I guess my mind just wandered.”
“Okay, we completely missed the last fifteen minutes of the show.”
I grabbed the remote and turned off the T.V. “That show’s gone down hill
since Dr. Greene died.”
“Yeah, alright.”
Beth had to drive me home (because I couldn’t drive yet). She dropped me
off and left, waving good-bye.
The lights were still on in the house as I walked up.
Once inside, I found my mother sitting in the living room, watching old
home movies of Erica, me and her days as a teacher.
This could be bad.
But at least Beth wasn’t crying about the play. That would be worse.

REASON 3: MATT

The next morning was bad. I had stayed at Beth’s house later than
normal (thanks to the random pillow fight). So, when my alarm went
off at six I rolled over, gladly smacked the snooze button, and drifted back to
sleep.
Five minutes is NOT sufficient time to get the extra sleep a snooze button
supposedly supplies.
The alarm went off again and I rolled back, rubbing my eyes. I yawned,
looked down at the small box called an alarm clock.
“I hate you,” I told it in a lazy whisper.
I turned off the alarm completely and pulled the covers closer, enjoying
the warmth.
It was January, after all. And January in Upstate New York is bitter cold.
A knock came to my door.
“Huh?” I asked in a stupor. My mind was foggy, as I was still half asleep.
But the knock came again, followed by a bang. “What?”
“Kate, open your door!” the voice called to me.
I rolled over so I was lying on my back. What time was it?
I sat up straight when I saw the clock. It was seven-thirty. School started
in fifteen minutes.
Jumping out of my bed, I stumbled to the door.
“Kate! Get dressed; you’ve got to go to school!” I my mother yelled at me
once the door was opened.
“Okay…okay.” I got myself dressed and raced down the stairs.
The bus was long gone (it picks me up around five after seven). So my
mom had to drive me.
“For God’s sake, Kate. What were you two doing last night? Clubbing?”
At least she had lost her (bad) sense of humor.
“Sorry. I guess we just lost track of time.” I leaned my head against the
window, trying to catch a few more Zs.
Instead, my mother continued talking.
“You weren’t talking about this thing with my job, were you?”
Okay Mom, it isn’t a “thing”. It’s a PROBLEM. And a big one at that.
“No.” I closed my eyes. “E.R.”
“That show’s gone downhill since that Dr. Blue died.”
“Greene, Mom.”
“Well, whatever.”
We had made it to the school parking lot. I had exactly two minutes and
eighteen seconds before the bell rang. I opened my door, grabbed my
backpack, waved to my Mom and ran to the building.
Detention.
So not fair! I was only a few minutes late! Is it MY fault that no one in
this building can walk faster than a SNAIL ON WEED???
I spent most of Marshmallow’s class with my head on the desk. Like I
could take math after a morning like this (even if math was my best subject).
Mallow droned on about maximum and minimum values of derivates
(thank god Pre-Calculus was easy. I fell asleep so much in that class, had it
been hard, I’d still be taking it).
I felt something poke me in the back. I ignored it and continued
wallowing in my own self pity.
The poke came back. I slowly turned my head over my right shoulder and
saw Mike Kernigan, holding a folded piece of paper.
“What?” I whispered, wanting him to leave me alone.
“Matt told me to give you this,” he said.
“Matt isn’t even in this class.” I lay my head back on the desk.
“He told me to give you it this morning,” Mike whispered, dropping the
paper on the floor and then pushing towards me.
“Do we have a problem, Miss Reynolds? Mr. Kernigan?”
Awake now, after Mallow’s intrusion in my sleeping, I quickly kicked the
note beneath my chair. I didn’t know what Matt had written on it (and I didn’t
really care), but I was afraid that if Mallow saw it I’d find out sooner than
expected.
Unfortunately, Mallow did see it. “What have we here?” I winced, trying
desperately to hide the note. “Miss Reynolds? Please bring it forward.”
Everyone’s eyes were on me. I just wanted to die, right there. This could
not end well.
Slowly, I reached down for the note. Picking it up, I crossed the room and
handed it to Mallow. “I’m sorry Kate, Mike. But we do NOT pass love notes
in my class.”
My jaw dropped. AS FREAKING IF! I shot a look over to Mike, who was
smiling. What an ass.
“It’s not a love not, Mr. Mallow. I don’t even know what it is.” And that
was the truth. I could never understand what went on in that mind of Matt’s.
“Well, you never will,” Mallow said, ripping the paper in six pieces. I
watched, with a raised eyebrow. He had serious issues.
He handed the note back to me, telling me to throw out the pieces. I did
so, gladly, and returned to my seat.
“Alright, if the interruptions are done, we will continue. Now, when you
are looking for the inflection points, you must first find the SECOND
derivative…”
Mrs. Craven, my chemistry teacher, had detention duty that day.
“Miss Reynolds? Didn’t think I’d see you here today!”
Shove it up your… “I was late.”
“Oh,” she said, sitting down at the desk in the front of the room. That
woman was a witch. She even looked like one!
I grabbed a desk near the back, and rested my head on the desk, similar to
what I had done in Marshmallow’s class. This sucked. I was one of those types
of people that love to flaunt authority but never actually get in trouble. So this
REALLY sucked for me.
The hour and a half went by smoothly, with only coughing and sneezing
making sound. There had only been three people there, excluding Mrs.
Craven.
Once outside, once again in the light, I made my way to the parking lot. I
had asked Beth to wait for me, but she had to baby-sit Trevor.
So, instead, I had to walk home. This was going to be fun...Not.
But as I made my way across the parking lot, a pick up truck rolled up to
me and stopped.
“Need a lift?” It was Matt, driving his dad’s truck.
“No.” I continued walking past the car, hoping he’d leave me along. But
of course not.
“Hey!” he called, driving up along side me. “Did you get the note?”
“No, Mallow did.” And I continued walking.
“WHAT?” He stopped the car.
I smiled. Good, he needed to be annoyed. He annoyed ME to no end.
“Mike tried to give it to me and Mallow took it and ripped it up.” The
color slowly returned to Matt’s face. He smiled, and gestured to the passenger
seat. “C’mon, get in.”
I rolled my eyes, weighed the options, and decided to take the ride. It was
better than walking, especially in all the snow.
Once in, Matt pulled the car out of the parking lot and headed towards our
houses. “Did he read it?” he asked me.
What was he talking about? “Did who read what?”
He sighed, irritated. “Did Mallow read the note?”
“No, why?” Matt was so confusing sometimes. No doubt the note was
about something embarrassing he was going to tell people if I didn’t give him
the answers for the homework (Matt was above average in everything BUT
math, which is completely opposite to me).
“Um, did YOU read it?” His face was starting to pale again.
“No. Will you PLEASE tell me why this note is so important?”
He smiled, and checked the speedometer. We were in the area what was
infested with cops dying to hand out speeding tickets.
“Nothing,” he said a moment later.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”
“How so?”
“Well, I already got a detention from Mallow for being late to school. And
then you had to make Mike give me that note, which made Mallow even
MORE mad.” I crossed my arms across my chest, happy that I had a legitimate
reason to be mad at Matt. Usually I was just mad at him for no reason.
“As long as you didn’t read it I apologize.”
“And if I had read it?” I saw that we were reaching the cul-de-sac that
contained our houses. Good, only a few more minutes of Matt.
“Then we’d be discussing something ENTIRELY different.”
“Why are you so weird?” I asked him.
He smiled and pulled into our shared driveway.
We both got out of the truck, and I pulled my heavy coat closer. “Hey,
Matt?”
He was already at the top of the stairs leading to his house. “Yeah?”
“What was that note for anyway?”
He smiled, opened the door, and walked into his house.
It was later that night. I had just gotten off the phone with a talkative Beth.
She wasn’t upset about not making the play anymore. The reason she didn’t
make the play better not be because she’s a midget. That’s a violation of the
EOE (well, I don’t think Equal Opportunity Employment includes school
plays, but you get my point).
I finally got her off the phone, and was about to just pull my covers over
my head and sleep until I heard my name being called. I groaned, loudly I
hoped, and shoved open my door.
My mother was in the kitchen when I got downstairs. “What?” I asked
sleepily.
“Kate, it’s only eight-thirty,” she said, sighing a bit because I was wearing
my pajama bottoms. I don’t usually use the matching top. I just wear whatever
shirt I wore that day to bed.
“So? I’m tired. Is that a crime?” She gave me the evil look. It’s a wonder
that I haven’t been shipped off to military school.
I stood, staring at her. “Why did you call me?”