The double arrangement

One thing I'll say about myself: I don't like carpets. The feel of them makes my skin crawl. Even the texture throws me off—whether that's metaphorical or literal, you, dear reader, can decide. Of course, my sister doesn't care and has placed carpets all over our apartment—in the bathroom, living room, and even my damn bedroom. Apparently, it protects the wood from scratching or something. That's where I found myself at three AM: lying face-first on the rough carpet, my limbs splayed out in weird contortions. My knee taps against the rough carpet and my skin protests. I open my eyes, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My nightstand holds my nearly empty glass of water and my alarm clock, which displays 3:09. Great. A few more minutes and I'll be back to my messed-up sleep schedule. My bed still has its original dark blue blankets, yet here I am on the floor. My nightmares sometimes get so bad I sleep rough, which unfortunately means I end up on the floor regularly. I lie there for another thirty minutes before getting up and returning to my bed. The sad part is I probably won't remember any of this come morning. Sunlight hits my face, and I regret being conscious. It's suddenly morning and my head is killing me. I consider two possibilities: either I have a concussion from my fall, or—better yet—my body is finally catching up to me with a hangover. I groan in frustration as my sister blasts Chappell Roan in the hallway. I knew getting her that portable Bluetooth speaker was a mistake. "Wake up sleepyhead! You cannot stay cooped up in this hellhole forever, she says as she throws me a dirty sock. The worst part is it's not even mine. My sister Quinn had her usual stoic look. Her black braids hung across her shoulders. Her outfit today was a black leather jacket and pants, with knee-high boots and a pink tank top. She carried a tote bag with her that read: "Bit of mess but doing my best". I always found that phrase kind of ironic, but Quinn loved it, so who was I to complain? I take the sock and throw it on the floor, along with the rest of my clothes. I was too tired to pick up my clothes let alone clean my room. It's not like I've been in the apartment a lot anyway. There was a gym close by and I would mostly spend my time there. My sister, on the other hand, loved to spend her time in the apartment. I sigh as I look at the mess around me, trying to find my clothes amid all the chaos. " I'll get you by the car in five minutes. I just need to get my clothes" "Through this mess. Seriously... This is not what I envisioned when I agreed to move in with you" I sigh, grabbing the keys to my car and a jacket on my way out. I watched as she stuffed her water bottle in the tote bag, and I was almost compelled to ask why she had it but decided against my better judgment. The car was parked in the apartment parking downstairs, unfortunately not as elegant as it sounded. There was no doorman or clerk to welcome us downstairs. Instead, I was welcomed with the empty walls and a few cars parked. The floor was dark and cement colored. My sister, however, was busy waving me over, assaulting my car door handle as if the car doors had been glued together. I hurried over, unlocking all the doors. "Pull harder, you might just r*****f my entire car door " "Yeah, that is so the demographic I was going for. Day two of trying to break down my brother's precious car, the only thing that he'll ever love-" "Alright, alright, that's enough! " We get in the car, strapping on seatbelts and making sure the coast is clear to reverse. School is ten minutes away, not bad for the place we have. Although the apartment is one of the cheapest options, it's all we can afford. With my job and her gigs, we almost scrape by. My sister has told me countless times that she does not mind it, that it's way better than we had. I smile at the memory. Quinn is currently going through my car drawer, looking for anything interesting. There was a pack of mini cinnamon rolls that I forgot about. Quinn opens it and hands me one. "Any idea how old these are? Or is it a f**k around and find out kind of thing? " "Quinn, I'm way smarter than killing you with cinnamon rolls. That's just poor planning" She laughs and ruffles my hair, causing my glasses to slide down just a little. I push them back up. We arrive at school and I can already tell that it's going to be a LONG day. In the line of cars, I spot what can only be a jock's car ahead of me. How can I tell? The customized license plate says it all. Of course, they have the money and clout for that. I sigh in frustration as I stare at their car. My sister nods in agreement. The jocks at our school are terrible drivers—and definitely on purpose. Reckless driving seems to come with the territory. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, focusing only on the road ahead. One of the jocks turns around and winks at my sister, making her turn away in disgust. I sigh heavily, knowing that if I dealt with this now, I'd hold up everyone behind us. My sister turns to me with a focused look in her eyes. I know what it means—I've seen it for years. I force myself to stay calm. A rage episode now would be remembered by the whole school. Better to keep my cool and try to do things differently this year. The last thing I need is another outburst. We finally find a parking spot and I get out of the car, feeling students' eyes all over me. I was naive to think everyone would forget what happened. A sinking feeling tells me this year isn't going to be good. The jocks watch me but keep their distance. Their eyes are like targets, each one marking me. I know why. Honestly, last year I wanted the same thing—some kind of punishment for what I did. My sister pulled me out of that darkness. Though I wonder how long that will last.