I'm a little teapot

Short and Stout

Here is my handle, here is my spout

That was my favourite rhyme, when I was FIVE.

At ten, I smash teapots. I break its handle; I break its spout.

I smashed it through my gran's window when I catapulted one on the backyard's seesaw.

Teeeeaaaaaapot! What has gotten INTO you? Look what you've done! You apologize to Gran right this instance!, yelled my mother.

My body shook as I heard the shrilling voice. My mother's silhouette behind the porch door's mesh; her body arc; her anger devours the entirety of the doorway. I dragged my feet towards the door.

It was an accident...., I whimpered. (It wasn't. I hated my name, I hated teapots. What good is a teapot if it doesn't want to hold tea? Is it just a Pot? And why of all the things in the world, I had to be a Pot for JUST Tea? I told Tom, my bestest friend in school, that I don't care how I'm gonna do it, but I'm gonna be a pilot. I'm going to be the first Teapot that flies.)

A Mom.

A Pa.

Most kids have two. I don't and I don't find that very fair. It makes me angry.

But I can't even get angry! AUughhhhh!

Most kids have a Mom and a Pop.

And I have my big brother.

Evil and arrogant, all smart and stuck-up. The one adults take seriously and all the women teachers all coo over. Which, gag, seriously. Be an adult that's gross! Kids are not allowed! They're not allowed! And Jannie is still a kid.

Just an older, louder, more obnoxious kid. Who doesn't have time for anyone but me. And he doesn't want to.

"Thanks so much Jan-Jan!" I chittered, smile on wide and cheery. Like a doe eyed dumb little princess girl.

And dug into my eggs.

"Couldn't save a little for your brother who needs to go into work today?"

"Uh uh," I replied.

"No, I thought not," he mused, and then pointing. "mouth closed, off the table, aaand, small bites. I'm not resuscitating you."

Huh? Well fine. Whatever.

I took the knife from Jan when it was offered.

"I was kidding, I would."

No he wouldn't.

"Or am I?"

Yes. You are stupid.

When Jan helped each shoulder into my backpack and smoothed out his imaginary, not-serious wrinkles out of my polo he got this look.

It always differed.

Depending on which sad thoughts about Mom and Dad or the future he was thinking of.

He hadn't liked Anger.

But Sadness was too sad.

Stupid Jan.

You aren't supposed to use guilt like that.

Mom and Dad would yell at you.

I want to yell at you that you're supposed to be stupid and arrogant and absolutely careless about whether I die tomorrow or not! And-- and I'm supposed to want to tape your slathering tongue to an outlet.

"Hey Ridley-- my name is Ry-an. Ryan!-- I really like your voice. Could you sing something for me?" Jace said in the car.

Siiiigh.

What a weirdo.

"Humm, humm the hummingbird in the groooove, hum hum oh sweetie hummingbird."

________________________

Within six years Ryan Reese became America's Darling Teen Idol. The hottest thing since his grease slicker predecessors.