My High school Drama

Chapter 8:Sundays

I went to bed feeling drained; after all, I had just run a huge marathon to secure the mint-flavored ice cream. Well, not a marathon, but you know what I mean. My legs were so numb, and I dozed off immediately I lay on the bed and my head came in contact with my soft pillow. If beds were people, I would be living the dream. I mean, they are so comfortable and loyal. Yeah, you heard me right—loyal. I mean, they never abandon you, well, not that they can. Beds are here when we need someone to talk to but no one is listening. When we need to cry or scream our hearts out, they listen to all we have to say without snitching on us. If beds were people, I would have been married the minute I lay on one. I will always appreciate whoever came up with the idea of beds and cooking. Beds and cooking—brilliant ideas. The kind of ideas that give joy and comfort. I can't say the same about school and exams, though.

I mean, what were they thinking, sucking the joy out of our youths? If I ever come across Henry Fischel or Horace Mann, I can't say what I'll do to them, but let's just say they won't be safe. Who are they, you might ask? Well, they are the nicompoops who taught that school and studying was a good idea. Go ahead, call me a nerd for all I care. I just needed to know who was responsible for my daily stress. Though I'm pretty sure they're dead

They are so lucky I have not cracked time travel or else I would have gone back and stopped them for committing such a crime to humanity. Well I guess I couldn't do that without studying but I can dream can't I? Just let me be Alice in Wonderland for a few minutes or rather Serena in Wonderland. That sounds way much better, everything sounds better with my name in front. Speaking of school today is Sunday so I get to relax a bit. Weekends rule. No school yet I must be woken by the sound of that annoying instrument called an alarm.

Why? That's because Sunday equals church and church equals waking up early. I'm pretty sure Mom and Dad are already awake. Sundays are the only day of the week where I successfully wake up early. If I don't, I will face a stage of monster state that no amount of ice cream can save. The last time that happened, I was traumatized for a week. If that fear doesn't wake me up, then nothing can.

I love to sleep, but there's no point if I don't live to sleep, is there? I got up, abandoning my bed and heading straight to the bathroom. A quick shower and then I got dressed. I wore a long red gown, white heels, a white scarf, and the look was finished with a beautiful white purse. Me and my parents also wore matching outfits for church, so we were all in red and white. Before you ask, yes, it was planned. I get that question a lot.

I went downstairs. Dad was already standing by the car waiting.

Serena: Good morning, Dad.

Dad: A good morning to you too, my little pumpkin. How was your night?

Serena: How do you think my night was after all the running?

Dad: Oh yes, I'm sorry about that.

Serena: It's no problem. At least we succeeded.

Dad: Indeed, we won the war. Hope your leg doesn't hurt?

Serena: It does, but not that much. I can still walk at least.

Dad: If it hurts, shouldn't you change into something more comfortable than heels?

Serena: Absolutely not. That would ruin my whole outfit.

Dad: Just by changing heels?

Serena: Yes. No flat shoe would look good with this dress. Besides, I can manage.

Dad: Whatever you say, pumpkin. The dress looks marvelous on you.

Serena: Thank you, Dad. The suit looks great on you too.

Dad: You're most welcome, pumpkin.

Serena: And Mom?

Dad: Oh, you know your mother—she's never quite done.

Serena: Typical Mom. I'll go check on her.

Dad: Please do, or we'll be late. The morning masses have already begun.

This was how Mom always behaved. She always rushes and pushes everyone else to hurry up, and then we end up waiting for her and her never-ending finishing touches.

I go to her room to find out what exactly is taking so much time.

Serena: Good morning, Mom.

Mom: Oh, morning, Serena. I see you're all dolled up.

Serena: Well, what can I say? You did pick this gown for me.

Mom: I did, didn't I? And it looks lovely on you.

Serena: Well, thank you. You look good too, so can we go?

Mom: There's no rush. Besides, I'm almost done with my makeup.

Serena: Mom, you realize we're going to church, right?

Mom: Of course. Is there a problem?

Serena: So why are you putting on so much makeup like it's some kind of beauty contest?

Mom: Well, Serena, I believe it's not a crime to look good, is it?

Serena: Well, Mom, you look good already—great even. Besides, you can always finish in the car.

Mom: Fine, I'll grab my purse and we can go.

Serena: Finally. Dad's already waiting.

Mom: Yes, yes, I'll be down in a minute.

Serena: Ok, you've taken the purse and your makeup kit. So we are set to go.

Mom: (still applying lipstick)Yes, we are, but one more thing.

Serena: (clearly annoyed) And what would that be?

Mom: (smiles) Does this shoe go well with my dress?

Serena: Jeez, Mom, yes it does.

Mom: Great.

We both rush to the already-started car. Dad is seated in the driver’s seat tapping the steering wheel, clearly tired of waiting.

Serena: Sorry for the delay.

Dad: (staring at Mom) No problem, pumpkin. It wasn’t your fault.

Mom: (pretending not to notice) So, how do I look, honey?

Dad: Lovely as always.

Mom: See? All my time was worth it.

Serena: What’s the point if we’re late?

Dad: Well, what’s done is done. Now both of you get into the car.

Mom and I immediately take our seats beside each other. She continues with her makeup while Dad drives out.

And just like that, Like every other Sunday in my family. We are finally on our way to church.