Gutter

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“THIS IS so unfair!” I fumed, storming into my bedroom. I slammed the door so hard that the picture of me and Louis on prom night fell off the wall and cracked. I hadn’t meant to slam it so hard, but I was tight.

“Watch that temper, Ken,” I said to myself, scooping the picture off the floor. There was a hairline crack down the center, separating me from Louis. “How freaking ironic.” I tossed the picture on my bed, reminding myself to get another frame from the ninety-nine-cent store.

I plopped down on the little stool in front of my vanity mirror and examined the face staring back at me. Ever since I was a kid people always told me how pretty I am, but I really didn’t start to notice until junior year in high school. I’m five feet five, five feet six when I stand up straight, with thick black hair and lips that always make me look like I’m pouting, but what stands out about me most are my eyes… my father’s eyes. My eyes are a pale green. Not like a contact lens green, but the color of new money. Mom says that’s why she and my aunt nicknamed me Dollar.

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