The first thing that hits me when I wake up is the light. It's so bright, shining through the curtains that are supposed to be blackout, but aren't.

I wake up groggily, rubbing my eyes as I blink slowly, debating going back to sleep. After all, if Mom didn't wake me up on a Monday morning then I probably don't have school.

Ultimately I decide against it, and look at the clock. Boy am I glad I did, because it shows it's nearly 11 am! I slept way too long.

Slowly I stand, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders to keep myself warm and protected from the wrath of outside my covers. I walk downstairs, passing my brother's room, where I can hear him whisper-shouting at his iPad. Probably a game, no doubt, and it sounds like he's losing.

"Morning Mom," I yawn. I grab a box of cereal and a bowl, then milk and a spoon, balancing it— and my phone— all in my arms as I stumble precariously to the kitchen table.

"You're up late," she says, looking up from her own phone. "And don't do that. I don't want you to fall and hurt yourself."

I grin at her. "Me? Never."

She laughs. "Oh? Does the first grade field trip to the zoo ring a bell? What about the park in 2023? Field day?"

Drat. She's got me there, all three times. I'm far too clumsy, and she knows it. Time to deploy tactic subject change. "So, schools cancelled today?"

She looks at me, a painstaking expression on her face that says is this seriously my child?

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock. It finally stopped snowing. You get at least a week off school, probably more," she says, turning back to her phone.

I pour myself my cereal, and then the milk, like it should be done. "How much did it snow? Can we play with the neighbors?"

"Three feet, and no. It's too cold. You can play with your brother and sister inside, but not outside. Not until it warms up a bit."

I pull up the weather app on my phone, and sure enough, it's well into the negatives. "Yeesh. Talk about cold. That's, like, Antarctic temperatures!"

"Antarctica is at least -60. We're only about -20 I believe, but still too cold for little girls to be out playing," she says.

"Mom! I'm thirteen! I'm not a 'little girl' anymore!" I reply, the exasperation thick in my voice.

"Whatever you say. But remember, you're always my baby," she winks.

I roll my eyes. "Love you too, Mom."

I quickly finish my cereal. "Is the dishwasher dirty or clean?"

"Dirty. Put your bowl in please," Mom responds.

I nod, put it in, and go back upstairs. I should call Kelsey, she'd want to talk to me. About crushes, about the snow, about anything. I love my mom, but sometimes she's so much. I know she loves me and cares a lot, but sometimes she cares so much that I don't want to hurt her feelings by telling her what I actually feel, so I lie. I say I'm fine. That nothings wrong. Change the subject. Sometimes I say I don't know, and it's true. I know I'm feeling something, but my brain can't formulate what exactly I'm feeling.

I bellyflop onto my bed, squishing the squishmallow as I FaceTime Kelsey. It rings a few times before she picks up.

"Anna!" She squeals. "How are you? We haven't talked in, like, ever!"

"I saw you like two or three days ago before it started snowing," I remind her.

She scoffs. "Like I say, ever! What's new with you?"

I shrug. "Nothing much, really. I'm already bored, and it's only..." I check my watch. "Noon."

"Omigosh, so am I girl. It's gonna be so hard without you, and stuck with my brother in this house," she sighs. "I mean, I love Jo, but he's too much sometimes." Like my brother, too.

"So, how's Dave? Have you talked to him at all today?" I ask casually. Dave is her boyfriend, and he's hot but kind of a jerk.

"Oh, he's good!" She launches into a rant about Dave, and the conversation drifts from Dave to school, then homework, then to trains and train stations (because of math.) We end up chatting for hours, and before I know it it's 3 pm and Mom is knocking on my door, asking what I've been doing and telling me I've got to start my laundry.

"Sorry Kelse, gotta go," I say, frowning. "Laundry." I point to the 'clothing islands', as my mom calls them, littering my floor around my dresser and bed.

She laughs. "Bye Annalise. See you tomorrow?"

I grin. "Maybe over call, but you bet. Bye bestie! Love you!"

As she hangs up I scoop up the dirty clothes and throw them in the laundry basket, start the washer, and then go lay in my room the rest of the day until dinner.

We have eggs for dinner, since Dad can't go grill the meat he had originally had planned for today (we meal-prep in advance).

I end up turning in pretty early, happy with how the day went. It might've been a pretty slow day, but it was nice to be able to talk to Annalise.