6:00 am. I know that I really should get up for school, but I don't know if I have the strength.

I hear my father shuffling around in thr kitchen downstairs and smell coffee. He always makes coffee. I ease myself out of bed and force myself to the bathroom as my bladder begins to complain. After I am fully awake and out of the bathroom, I begin my morning routine: put on the clothes I laid out the night before, brush my hair and decide that today I will put a little curl to tips of it, brush my teeth, slip on my shoes and my socks, and spend five to ten minutes looking into the mirror.

I am average for my age and race: white skin, with a peachy color mixed into it, dark brown hair that has a little bit of a beach wave to it, a good amount of freckles dusted on my face, and emerald-green eyes. I am not very fat, but I do see myself on a little of the chubby side, but not in an unattractive sort of way. I pretty much have am average body, though my hips are a little on the big side.

Like every other girl, I look down on myself. I'm not model-pretty, not even close. My body is far from perfect, and I could name a million and one imperfections about myself that even my future husband would never notice.

Yep, definitely an average day in the crazy life of Morgan Ambers. I force myself away from the mirror to find my jacket, backpack, and lanyard with my lunch card and car keys hanging from its loop. I make my way downstairs, bag slung over my shoulder and lanyard around my neck, now wrapped up in my light autumn jacket.

"Hey, Pumpernickle." My dad says to me as I enter the kitchen, always trying to make the mood happy in our messed-up lives. "Ready for school?" I give a small nod as I ease into the kitchen chair next to him, dropping the backpack by my feet. I reach toward the plate of eggs and bacon in front of him in an attempt to steal a bite. He playfully smacks my hand away.

"You eat at school." He reminds me. "This is my food."

"But I'm hungry!" I whine. I make a second attempt at stealing his bacon, and my hand comes up empty thanks to another smack at my hand.

"Fine." I huff. "I'll get it one of these days." I look up at the clock on the wall above the stove. 6:43. I always leave at 6:45 in order to get to school by 7:15. School doesn't start until 8:00, but my first hour is band, and I like to have plenty of time to set up, tune my flute, and warm up so that I am always plenty ready by the time class starts. It keeps me on Mrs. Meyer, the band director's, good side.

I give my dad a kiss on the cheek before exiting the kitchen and walking down the hall into the living room. My dog, Heidi, the cutest Shi-Tzu I've ever seen, is waiting for me on the couch, where she knows she's not supposed to be.

"Down!" I scold her. "Bad dog! You know you're not supposed to be on our new couch." She hangs her head and sticks her tail between her legs as she jumps off the couch. It makes me want to cry when she gets all sad and pouty like that, so I squat down and pet her little head and say, "It's alrighy, baby. Just don't do it anymore." I continue to stroke her head before checking my phone to see that it was 6:47 and rushing out the door, yelling goodbyes to Dad and Heidi as the door closes behind me.

I jump into my car and start it. I drive a Kia Soul, which personally I love, even though my boyfriend, dad, and best friend all hate it and make fun of me all the time for it. I say a quick prayer for a good day before rushing off to school, just a hair over the speed limit the entire way there.