The Jean – Baptiste Bunch
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I feel them! I feel their eyes! I know they are starring at us. We had just left my youngest sisters recital, and now we are in the parking lot. As we approach my mothers five-person sports utility vehicle (SUV) I could feel the stares getting stronger. We began by first having my step-sister Melissa sit in the front passenger seat, because she is much bigger than all of us. Then Marie, Elodie, and I take the back seats. My two brothers, Clifford and Jeffery, and my cousin, Richard, climb into the trunk. Now the car is completely full, but there are still two people that have to get in. My youngest sister Narinah hops on Maries lap and then my cousin, Cassandra, hops on my lap. “Owww. Watch where you put your big butt”, I whine. My mother closes the trunk and gets in the drivers seat. Thank God, I say to myself. We can finally drive away from this place and escape from the eyes of all of these nosy people. “There a door thats not closed”, my mother says. Shoot! Now we have to stay longer to figure out who door it is. Cassandra stands up, swings her hips further into the car and closes the door. It worked. As we are driving home I could feel my legs getting numb. I push Cassandra. “Stop putting all of your weight on me”. She adjusts herself for a minute or two, and then sits exactly how she was sitting before. During the thirty-minute ride I continuously tell her to stop cutting the circulation from my legs with her fat rump. By the time we get home I am so angry and my legs are numb. I open the car door and push Cassandra off of me, and hop out of the crowded vehicle. I am glad to be home.
The feeling of gladness escapes from me when I walk into the room that I share with three of my sisters. There are clothes everywhere. Clothes are on the beds, on the dresser, and on the floor. Now I am really pissed, because it takes so long to clean this room, and I am so tired. My sisters and I have so much clothing, but only share two closets between the four of us. The closets do not fit all of our clothes so there are always clothes in storage bins. My sisters, especially Elodie (who is a year younger than me), loves to dump the clothing to find what they are looking for. The end product is always the appearance that a tornado went through our room. It makes me angry, because Im the one who always decides to clean up the mess. In the mists of the chaos, something catches my eye. Its my new sparkly skirt that I havent even worn yet. The night before my sister, Marie, who is older by a year and is also bigger by three sizes, put it on her big behind. Of course, I told her to go find some pliers and pry it off of her body. Her reply “Im going to” or “later” always agitates me,