16 Reasons My Life Sucks - Sara Walker (100 best novels of all time txt) 📗

To My Family:
Without crazy people like you I’d never have created crazy
characters like these…

16 REASONS WHY
MY LIFE SUCKS
Sara Walker

INTRODUCTION
Why is it that Paris Hilton gets to be pretty, famous, rich and perfect? I
mean, seriously, what did she ever do? Sit around while her parents
made her fortune? It’s so unfair. She gets whatever she wants and I,
Kate Reynolds, am stuck with this life. This horrible, sucky, waste of a life.
What’s so sad about my life, do you ask? Well, here’s the 411:
Beth: My best friend Beth (who I love, don’t get me wrong) is a
MIDGET! Okay, not a midget but she’s extremely short. She used to get
teased all the time when she was little (I didn’t meet her until seventh grade,
when she moved to Luddermor).
Beth’s parents are normal height. Her younger brother Trevor is normal
height (for an eleven year old). But some how Beth is a freaking midget!
The first time I ever meet Beth was in my math class. I’m pretty good at
math so I was in the advanced class. Beth had just come from the office, and
the teacher, Mr. Armstrong, announced her.
“This is Bethany Sanders. She has moved here from…where,
sweetheart?”
Now Beth is kind of shy. She’s not really good in front of a crowd, unless
the crowd is family and/or friends. “Ohio,” she said, VERY quietly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Where?”
“Ohio,” she repeated herself, not much louder.
Now, because Mr. Armstrong is probably hearing impaired, he
straightened and announced to the class that Beth was from Nebraska (where
he got Nebraska out of Ohio I have yet to figure out).
The entire class started to giggle, because they knew what Beth had said.
Beth was turning red in the face, but she wasn’t going to correct him.
For the next three days everyone called her farmer when she came into the
math room. Finally, I had had enough of it.
So when Mike Kernigan mooed when Beth walked in, I walked over to
him, punched him in the arm and told him that if he mooed again I’d kick him
in the groin.
Mike never mooed again.
So, Beth and I became fast friends. I didn’t care that she’s short and she
didn’t care that I’m a sarcastic bitch. It works.
Relationship status: I’m a total loner and have no boyfriend, unless you
count Rich Hartman. He tried to feel me up at this one (okay, the ONLY) party
I went to. Ugh.
I had gone to the party when I was in ninth grade. Some kid I used to hang
out with (other than Beth) made me go with her, and then she ditched me.
Great friend, huh?
Anyway, because I had no prior knowledge of high school parties, I
wandered around the house until I found a bedroom. I figure, what the hey,
maybe I could be alone for a while.
WRONG.
Some couple was in their making out. It was so gross.
I quickly slammed the door shut and turned to leave. I made my way
through the throng of people to the kitchen. And there he was: Rich Hartman.
He wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t a loser. He was just Rich. A very,
VERY drunk Rich.
I leaned against a counter. People milled in and out. Then, there was no
one in the kitchen except Rich and me. He walked over so he was standing
next to me.
“Hey, babe,” he slurred. I rolled my eyes and hoped he go away.
But he didn’t. Instead, he tried to feel me up.
“Ah! Get away from me, you freak!” I pushed him away and raced as fast
as I could from the kitchen.
I left, not caring about my friend anymore.
Ugh. Rich Hartman has bad breath and whistles when he talks.
So, other than that drunk kid, I’m without significant other, and I don’t
see one in the near future. I mean, who’d want me?
Milk Products: I’m allergic to milk AND a chocoholic. Truly a fate worse
than death. You wouldn’t believe how many days of school I missed because I
couldn’t resist a cookie or two.
Although, I do sneak pizza. Yeah, yeah, it has cheese. So, you’re going to
tell me that I can never eat that glorious, glorious food because my BODY
doesn’t want me to? Screw that. I’ll take the rashes, thank you.
But it is milk that I really miss. I could drink it when I was younger, but
now it was off limits. My mom doesn’t buy milk anymore, because she knows
I’ll drink it.
She did try marking the milk every time my sister or her drank some, so
she’d know if I did. But I wasn’t stupid. I would take the marker she used and
mark it when I drank. So that plan failed.
Feet: I can’t find shoes.
No, my feet aren’t a size fourteen or anything. It’s just that my left foot is
a size seven and my right foot is a size eight. Seriously. Either I have to buy
two pairs of shoes every time I get new ones or I have to wear some of my
sister’s old ones. Truly pathetic.
And the worst thing about having two different sized feet is swimming.
It doesn’t affect my swimming ability, it just hurts my ego.
I was at a pool once where there was this little boy, maybe four years old
(I was ten). I had taken off my flip flops (which are good at hiding feet,
surprisingly. Because it’s hard to tell that they are different sizes when every
time you step the shoes slaps).
Anyway, he was sitting on the edge of the pool and I was standing kind of
behind him. I was talking with my mom. Then, the boy pointed at my feet as
said, very loudly, “You’re feet are different!” Well, you can imagine my
embarrassment. It was a REALLY crowded pool.
And, the biggest reason that my life sucks: my sister Erica.
She has been first in her class since forever.
She is probably the prettiest girl that lives in Luddermor.
She gets everything she wants. Even my Barbie doll that I got for
Christmas one year that Erica claimed as her own and then my mother gave
HER the doll.
She has never had a bad hair day. My entire LIFE is a bad hair day.
She’s, well…
She’s perfect.

REASON 1: MY SISTER IS BIG “GIRL” ON
CAMPUS

Beth and I were sitting in my room, studying for chemistry. Okay, she
was studying and I was complaining.
“Kate, just look at the functional groups. See? It’s an alcohol.”
“Great,” I mumbled. “Can I drink it?”
“Kate! Please! I have to do well on this test. And, may I remind you, so do
you.”
I rolled over so that my face was in my pillow and my leg was stretched
against the wall. It so wasn’t fair. My sister AND best friend got to be
geniuses and the only useful things I can do is algebra and make a three-leaf
clover with my tongue.
“Like you’re going to fail. You have a what, 97 overall?”
“99, actually. Now sit up and amuse me. Is this butane or pentane.” Beth
shoved me and I flipped up to a sitting position. Beth normally is a nice, sweet,
shy person. But when I’m being stubborn she can get cranky.
“You know, BFF, it might be a little more comfortable if you removed the
stick that is up your ass.”
Beth threw the reference table at my head and wrote down something. I
shook my head, not understanding a word of chemistry. About the only thing I
knew about chemistry is that no guy had ever had chemistry with me (and
guys all over the world were happy for that).
I knew that Beth was starting to steam, so I picked up the table and
checked it. “How many carbons does it have?”
“Four.” Beth pointed to the structural formula that she had drawn. All I
saw was a bunch of Cs and Hs. Like that was really the way an atom looked
like. Or whatever it was.
“Okay, four Cs. Right?”
Before I got my answer the door swung open to reveal my perfect sister.
“I got it!”
Beth and I hardly glanced up. We both were used to Erica “getting it”,
whatever “it” was. Usually, it was an award, scholarship, date or something.
“Uh huh. Great, Erica.” I could see her huff out of the corner of my eye. I
smiled. “Now get out of my room.”
“You’re not even going to ask what?” Did it matter? I was just another
trophy for my sister to parade around in from of me with. The more I lived
with my sister the more I began to believe that one of us was switched at birth.
“Scholarship?” Beth questioned.
“Money?” I continued.
“A date with Johnny Depp?” Beth said and we both laughed.
Erica put her hands on her hips dramatically. “Uh! Why do I even
bother?”
“Don’t know. Now, may I continue with my functional group? Okay, this
is butane.”
Erica, curious, because anything nerdy attracts her, walked the few feet to
my bed and leaned over my shoulder. “It’s butene. See? Four carbons and
eight hydrogens. It’s an alkene.” With that, she walked back to the door.
I hoped, in vain, that she was just going to leave and spare me, the idiot
child. But, of course, she turned back to me. “I am first in my class. I’m going
to be valedictorian.”
Erica left and both Beth and I looked up. “Whoa.” I jumped off of my bed
and chased her down. “Um, don’t they wait until like April to tell people that
stuff? It’s only January.”
Erica smiled, knowing that she had my attention. “Apparently, if I keep up
with the pace I’m going, there is no way anyone can get ahead.”
I stood and looked at her pretty face. “How does it feel to be a total
freak?”
Beth walked up behind me, wanting to hear Erica’s response. I knew what
she was going to say. I brought it on myself. “I don’t know. Why don’t you try
looking in a mirror?”
With that she left us there, me fuming and my midget of a best friend
trying not to laugh.
The next day I was sitting in my first period class, counting the minutes.
My teacher, Mr. Mallow, was writing some equation on the board. I have yet
to hear of a student that actually liked Mr. Mallow. I guess a guy whose been
called Marshmallow all his life (at least his teaching career) kind of has to
have people hate him.
But that cannot possible justify his personality. It really sucks.
“Okay, class. Who wants to guess what the derivative of this equation is?”
I knew what it was. I mean, this is the only class that I understand. But
there was no way in hell that I was going to raise my hand.
“Jo?”
Jo was a Goth girl that tended to sit in the back of the class. She rolled her
eyes and ignored him.
“Okay, I guess not.” He rubbed his face and turned to Mike Kernigan.
“Mike? C’mon, I know you know.”
Mike was asleep, sitting behind me. I turned around and saw that he was
drooling. As hard as I could, I kicked my leg back into his shin.
“Ow!” he yelped in pain, waking up. He rubbed his leg and looked around
the class.
Of course the rest of