I think my ceiling needed a new coat of paint. I needed a new dresser as well, maybe a couple of shoes, a new door, perhaps a bulletproof bathroom.

I continued to make up silly scenarios in my head while I waited for my parents to get home. It was Saturday, and they still had to go to work—at least my mom does. All Dad did was drink his pension away and pretend we were a happy family.

I shook my head to dispel unnecessary thoughts. Today was a good day, people! I got out of high school last month. I was going to check the mail today; my admission letter was arriving, and we were going to do a family dinner to celebrate or.... not. Either way, I was scared shitless. I wasn't a smart kid. My grades were average, and I didn't want them to get better than that. Call me crazy or not a serious-minded student, but I was happy, and that was it I didn't want to be the "smart" kid. I was happy as I was.

I spent hours on my bed thinking, turning, and playing video games. Yes, I play video games. I don't do Barbie dolls. We kill zombies and fight wars on TV—it’s epic if you ask me. I played with my friends for a while before I decided that I needed to get my ass out of bed to do my chores and eat. Like, seriously, I needed to eat. I'm skinny, almost 6 feet, and I look more like a guy than a girl except when I do some excessive make-up. Yes, this is me.

I cleaned out my room some, packed my clothes all together, and put them in the dresser. I’ll sort them out later. I swept, cleaned, did laundry, then I proceeded to do the whole house. I swept, cleaned, and arranged the house, or my version of arranging. It looked acceptable anyway.

I walked into the kitchen, cleaned the dishes, swept... again, then finally I got to order pizza.

I messed with my phone some before the doorbell rang. I got the pizza, left a tip, then went back to my phone while I ate.

As you might have noticed, I talk a lot. That's one of my hobbies, actually. I could talk forever, but I do know when to shut up or not talk at all. My name's Katya Renua Greyson. I'm 15, an odd age, I know, but I don't really look it. I'm half-Nigerian half-Black American. Cool combo, that I also know.

It took a couple of hours before I heard a key jingle. Yay, Daddy's back. I'm so excited. Note the sarcasm. I got up to disappear into my room till my mom got back, but I wasn't fast enough.

"Ren, I'm hungry. Make me dinner or, better still, wait for your mom to make dinner; you can’t cook to save your life. I wonder what you can actually do." Ladies and gentlemen, meet my dad. He's really sweet, honestly; I wonder where I would be without him… oh, I know, really happy. "Are you even listening to me? I wonder how you went through high school and now college. That's if you get in. I mean, my brother’s sons could do bett—" I zoned out from here. This is a typical conversation between my dad and I. Really loving family, I tell you.

"Did you clean this house, Ren?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, clean it again, Ren. You're a woman, and I honestly can't understand how you can stand dirt. I wonder all the time about the things you get from that mother of yours. I'm going upstairs to sleep. When I get down here, this place better be spotless, and my food better be ready."

The light dimmed, and he exited.

Finally, some peace and quiet. I got back to shooting bad guys on my phone, this time while still watching some show about "things to say before 45." It was a long time ahead, but, oh well, you need to have your bullets before you shoot, right? Ha, now that's something to say before 45! Just don't say it in front of a criminal, though, that will end badly.

"Hey, honey. Is your dad home?"

"JESUS CHRIST, MOM! Do you want to kill me? When did you even get here? How did you get here?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It’s not my fault your ears don't work even though you have them, neither is it my fault that I have quiet feet."

"Ha ha, Mom, so funny. Dad's home, by the way. He wants the house more spotless than it already is, and he wants his food ready before he wakes up, served in bed with wallpaper around the room, so he feels like he's in Santorini."

"Ha ha Kat, very funny. Alright then, let’s make your dad something to eat and then we can check your mail together like we planned."

We spent two more hours cooking for the "king." Not that I hated cooking; on the contrary, I loved it. I just hated how I had to do it like it was what I was born to do. My dad is a Nigerian, and you don't want to know how they view women in some tribes, so I count myself lucky that this is all I get to do.

Dinner was fun, just our spoons and knives speaking for us and occasionally our hands. It was really sweet how it all just seemed to rhyme, and we communicated perfectly. Silence while eating was a strong suit in this household. It was our normal, but tonight was my night, so I'm sure I was glowing brighter than an angel’s halo.

"Ren, get out of your head, and go get the letter, so we can see it," my mom said. I snapped back to reality. I prefer spacing out than basking in silence. It just wasn't my thing "If she had a brain, then I would understand why she needed to be in there, but unfortunately, she's all dry and empty." My dad just had to ruin my moment, but who cares. I run to my room to get the letter and back with my glow intact. I take a deep breath to steady my heart before I open the letter.

"What does it say, honey?" I keep looking at the letter, but only one word stands out. I think I stopped breathing at some point. I just stared and stared then stared some more.

"You see what I told you? How would she get in? Our neighbor's daughter didn't even get in, and she had the best grades last year, how exactly would she ge—"

"I got in." I cut him off.

I glanced at him as I take much needed air into my lungs.

"What?"

"I said I got in, Dad. You can look at the letter yourself if you want, but I still made it."

"OH, MY BABY IS FINALLY A COLLEGE STUDENT," my mom screamed while she hugged me.

"Oh God, Mom. Put me down; you're going to kill me before I even get in." I laughed and struggled in her arms.

"Alright, grown up. You got into college, and now you think you aren't my baby anymore. Sorry bun bun, you always will be," she said, still not letting me go.

"Fine, Mom. You win. I need to go to bed now."

"Night, hun. We'll discuss this more in the morning," she said.

I walked with a spring in my step back to my room.

My scary dreams couldn't even wipe the smile off my face.

This year was definitely going to be good.