Chapter 3: Shamrock is the Color of the Grass

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"If grass can grow through cement, love can find you at every time in your life."
~Cher

When the alarm clock wakes me up, at six o'clock exactly, I decide that school and waking up early in general are not things that agree with me. If it were up to me I'd sit at home all day, searching all of the colors of the rainbow, content in my own little bubble.

Toby decides to wake me up at that very moment as well, attacking me with one of his pillows. His cologne hits me full on, making me choke. He's a morning person, unlike me.

"It's our first day at a new school Hazel! You should be excited!" His voice and facial expression tells me that he must be excited, if not at least happy. I should have expected this; my brother is always happy.

I roll off of the bed, groaning when I hit the floor. It wakes me up, shocking me from the tailbone on up. I rub the pain off as I get up.

Toby walks with me, talking in a loud, very high-pitched voice. I scrunch my nose, squint my eyes, and then block my ears. His noise is making me want to hide.

He notices that I'm uncomfortable and stops his useless jabbering. Instead he stops by my closet, which he helped unpack last night. In fact, he helped me with all of my unpacking, not sparing one minute for his own room. It's a wonder that he's even awake right now.

"What are you gonna wear?" Toby's expression, with the crinkles on the edges of his eyes, and his marigold smile, make me smile back.

I open the door, cringing when I hear the creak of the hinges. We'll have to oil that up later.

I note Toby's choice of clothing, smiling softly to myself. He's wearing the outfit I like best on him; the dark blue shirt that matches his eyes with his dark jeans and black high top converse. He runs a hand through his hair, flashing me a smile.

"I knew you'd notice. How does it look?" He knows that the pretty blue shirt has always earned a thumbs up from me.

"You know that it's my favorite shirt on you." He likes my approval.

Toby wanders into my closet, shuffling around until he finds what he's looking for. Most of my clothing consists of the many colors of the rainbow. I also have an extensive collection of Converse sneakers, ranging from Chucks to One Stars. I kind of have an obsession with the brand of shoes.

He hands me a pair of white high tops, which have a bunch of blue and purple flowers all around them. He picks out a pair of light ripped jeans and my light blue sweatshirt.

He flashes me that marigold smile once more before backing out of my room, waiting for me to change.

***

Once I'm out of my room, with my teeth brushed, my hair combed, and my outfit secured perfectly the way I want it, I'm going down the steps, remembering that this house does not have any whines in the floorboards.

My backpack sits by the door, courtesy of Toby. He's making eggs and pancakes since Mom and dad left early for work. He's humming a tune I'm not familiar with, and he's flipping the pancakes like a pro.

The white walls, so bland, are staring back at me. White is one of the colors that bothers me: one, because it's so bright, and two, because it reminds me of a day I would never want to have again.

Toby sets down two plates, each with its own eggs and pancakes, and then grabs the forks. I notice that he put chocolate chips and Reese's into mine and I smile. It's my favorite.

Toby lathers the syrup onto his own chocolate chip pancakes and I chuckle to myself. Although the food is sure to drip on my clothing, leaving a stain, Toby, the messy eater he is, has never gotten a stain on his shirt. Never.

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