The Perfect Balance

I close my book and huff loudly. I stare at the hardcover literature piece as I grip it tightly in my hands. Tossing it onto my covers beside me, I sigh. Have you ever read a book or watched a movie that took place in a horrid situation- like, say, a post-apocalyptic world, and the main character finds love? There can literally be seven people in their group but one of them is around the protagonist's age and just so happens to fall in love with her and vice versa. But here you are, sitting on planet Earth with seven billion people and can't seem to find someone who likes you back? If your answer to that question is no, then good for you. But if your answer is yes, then welcome to the club. Population 2, or maybe more. Who knows? Maybe we can fall in love...or maybe not. I don't know why I t*****e myself with these stupid romance novels, especially now when I'm supposed to be studying for my upcoming tests. No matter how hard I try to keep myself from reading them, I continuously find myself falling into the alternate universe of two people's relationship. And don't get me started on the love triangle books- a girl can find two guys that are interested in her but here I am struggling to get a guy to notice me. I hate pitying myself but sometimes, after reading 400 pages of pure sappy love and cheesiness, I feel like I deserve it. And it's not even like these books are realistic. None of them cater to their audiences of normal teenagers in a high school with a population in the hundreds. But I guess I'm generalizing. Perhaps there's a kindhearted but rebellious jock out there with a preppy and slightly snobby cheerleader on his arm, sharing a kiss after winning their homecoming game... Before I can delve too deep in my self deprecating thoughts, I turn to find the door to my room being shoved open by one of my three brothers. "What?" I ask in annoyance, slightly startled. I want to ask if he's ever heard of a thing called knocking but the answer is obvious; he hasn't. "Are you working today?" my eldest brother, Calum, asks curiously. His curly blonde hair appears in my room first, followed by his slightly tanned skin and large brown, glasses clad eyes. "Yeah," I answer in short. "Why?" "Because I'm heading in that direction. I was wondering if you need a ride," he explains. "No, I'll walk," I reply sarcastically, earning an eye roll from him. I should be a bit more grateful but he startled me and for some reason, it irritated me more than usual. "So you don't need a ride?" he retorts and I sigh, giving up. "Yes, Calum, I do," I answer. "Then be ready in twenty minutes or I'm leaving you behind," he calls as he slams my door. I stare at the wooden panels before heaving myself out of bed, grabbing my book as I go. I put it on my desk before pulling open my closet and shoving my legs into my jeans. As I continue to dress, I search for my name-tag. I finally find it sitting atop of the dirty clothes in my hamper, so I stick the pin into my shirt and fix it so it's straight and neat. Orion S. "I'm about to leave without you!" my brother nags from the hallway. I ignore him as I run my brush through my dirty blonde hair, which cuts off an inch before my shoulders. It's straight and has only a small amount of volume. Sometimes, if I tilt my head back far enough, I look like a potato with hair that starts at my ears. I tie my hair back into a braid and slowly examine my face. Like my brother's, my eyes are brown and large, making me appear innocent. Whether I am or not, I refuse to acknowledge. I'm considerably tall. I guess it runs in my family. My mom is almost 6'0" so it only makes sense that I'm 5'9" and thankfully, I'm finished growing. My brothers are close in height; all of them are taller than me; the same goes for my father. Deciding not to test my brother's patience any longer, I skip doing my makeup and go straight for my bag hanging on the back of my door. Slinging it across my back, I flip off my light and leave my room. I venture through the house, hopping down the steps and passing my two other brothers, Nate and Benjamin, before slipping outside and into the chilly October air. Calum is waiting in the car and, when he sees me taking my time traveling down the porch steps, he lays on the horn, which causes a few birds resting on a nearby tree to flutter off into the foggy sky. "Thanks for helping me find the car. If it weren't for the horn, I definitely would've gotten lost," I mumble as I buckle my seatbelt. We drive in silence, aside from my brother's stupid humming to whatever song is stuck in his head. I don't bother listening and instead, I stress the thirty minutes I'd have to wait around before my shift starts. There isn't much to do in the plaza where I work. There's a coffee shop, where I find myself on my breaks, and a nail salon, along with my place of employment- a book store, which is where I get all of the stupid romance novels at a discounted price. Perhaps if I didn't work at Books and More, I'd have a social life. Maybe I'd even have a love life... One of the reasons my love life isn't excelling is probably because I don't put myself out there. Another reason being that I have too many brothers. Oh, but the most obvious reason being that I'm a plain-Jane. I know- every girl in every book thinks they're plain, but I really am. The only remotely quirky thing about me is that I'm slightly tall. If it weren't for my height, I'm sure I'd blend right in everywhere. But because I'm half a foot taller than most girls my age, I stand out a bit. Other than that, I look like a girl from the prairies with my average clothing and emotionless face. It also doesn't help that I don't talk much. "Get out of my car," my brother complains as I take my time unbuckling my seatbelt. "Are you coming to pick me up when my shift's over? Or is dad? Or mom?" I ask curiously. "What do I look like? The family planner?" Calum asks and when he finds me staring at him in annoyance, he sighs. "What time does your shift end?" "8," I tell him dryly. Just like it does every time I work, unless I have to close, which is rare. I work from 2 to 8 on the weekends and on Mondays and Tuesdays, it's from 4 to 8. It's not hard to remember. "I think dad's picking you up," he tells me, earning a nod in response. "Thanks," I mutter. "Whatever," he answers before looking at me pointedly. "Now get out of my car." I roll my eyes and slip out of his vehicle, slamming the door shut as I go. This gets an annoyed shout from him but I ignore it and walk towards my job with a tired sigh. Another day, another dollar.