Read Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) Online
Authors: Brittney Musick
Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)
Copyright
© 2012 Brittney Musick
All
rights reserved.
To
all those who believed in me
and
told me to keep writing,
this
book is for you.
Cecilia Granger
Block 4
English Composition
Summer Writing Assignment
Silly Me
An Informative Essay
Draft 1
Even though I’ve done so often enough throughout the years, I
always find it incredibly difficult to write about myself. Generally, I think
of myself as being pretty boring. Most people—those I do and do not know well,
alike—tend to think I’m pretty weird. Admittedly, I suppose I kind of am.
Usually, my brain is filled with a million thoughts. It’s the
worst when I’m trying to go to sleep. Questions usually pop into my mind; most
of them are a bit silly while others, in my opinion, require a great deal of
analysis and serious consideration. I don’t know if this is something everyone
experiences. For all I know, it may only happen to me. I don’t normally make a
habit of sharing those thoughts with many people.
I mean, really, I can just imagine the look on my parents’
faces if I asked for their thoughts on the meaning of life. Undoubtedly, Dad
would ask if I’d been partaking in any illegal substances, which I have not and
will not ever do, and Mom would likely scurry about the kitchen, trying to get
dinner on the table with a worried look on her face, while asking me if I’ve
been having thoughts of suicide. Because, apparently, thinking about the
meaning of life automatically means you’re planning to kill yourself.
I don’t often question the meaning of
life. Most of the time, I just think about random things—like why is the sky
blue and grass green? What if C-A-T really spelled dog? Okay, so I remember the
last one from one of the Revenge of the Nerds movies. Even so, it’s something
to think about. I don’t even know who made up the alphabet. Should that be
something I know?
I often wonder if I’m in the dark
about a lot of things; things that most people should just know. I don’t watch
the news regularly, so I hardly ever know what’s going on in the world. Just
knowing that there are kids around the world starving to death is depressing
enough. And I don’t like hearing about parents killing their children or
another school shooting. Besides, Dad likes to talk about these things during
breakfast or dinner while he reads the newspaper. Sometimes I think he’s just
talking to himself because his eyes never leave the pages of the paper.
I think I’m the only one who notices,
though. My brother, Luke, is usually too busy playing one of his video games to
notice anything, and my sister, Skylar, always brings her mp3 player to the
table, so she never hears anything anyone says anyway. They both like to text
their friends under the table, too, even though our mom tells them not to
“because it’s rude.”
Mom usually doesn’t say much. I think
she’s just a quiet person by nature. Sometimes I think we’re alike. I don’t
talk much either, really, despite what my siblings might claim. It’s not really
because I’m shy or anything. It’s mostly just because of the way my family acts
when I do. Who wants siblings who ignore you, a dad who accuses you of being on
drugs, and a mom that questions you about being suicidal (just because you want
to talk about the meaning of life)?
I don’t.
I mean, it’s not that I dislike my
family or anything. It’s just that we don’t really understand each other.
Sometimes I think the only thing we have in common is the same last name:
Granger.
Well, okay, that’s not exactly true.
Everyone tells me that I have Mom’s
nose and eyes. But I have Dad’s ears. So do my brother and sister. I’ve only
noticed that because both of them usually have something stuck in them.
I find it odd how the two of them can
just shove things into their ears. That just bothers me. Plus, there’s the fact
that Grandma Sawyer used to always tell me not to stick anything smaller than
my elbow in my ear. (I always thought it would be hilarious to see someone try
to stick an elbow in his or her ear. That would be a sight.)
But, yes, we all have Dad’s ears.
Actually, my brother looks a lot like Dad did when Dad was younger and wasn’t
so gray on top. I’ve also noticed Dad’s started losing his hair in the past few
years. I think he’s noticed too because he keeps trying to comb it over. I
don’t think it’s doing much good, though, but I wouldn’t want to break the news
to him; even so, the idea of buying him a toupee for his birthday
did
cross my mind. I decided against it. I didn’t want to get grounded for the rest
of my life. I bought him a sweater instead.
I’ve also realized, while trying to
write about myself and in talking about my family, that I really don’t know my
parents very well. Of course they don’t know me very well either, but then
again I’m just the weird child.
What I do know is that Dad’s name is
Theodore, which reminds me of
Alvin and the Chipmunks
. Dad actually gets
a bit twitchy when he hears Alvin and company. I noticed that last Christmas
when we were visiting Mom’s family. Aunt Hadley insisted on playing childish
Christmas music. Sadly, no one seemed very keen on listening to it other than
Hadley and me, but as soon as the Chipmunks started playing, Dad got red in the
face and left he room quickly.
But everyone calls Dad Theo. Only his
mom—or Grandma Granger to me—calls him Theodore, and he makes the same kind of
face I make when Mom calls me by my given name: Cecilia. Everyone usually calls
me Silly. I used to think it was because it was short for Cecilia, but nowadays
I wonder if it’s because they really think I am silly.
Oh, the irony.
Or is it? I think it’s only ironic if
I’m not actually silly, which
I
don’t think I am, but I know my family
does. So, I’m not sure if it’s really irony.
Anyway, all I really know about Dad is
that he likes to read the newspaper during dinner and rant and rave about what
he reads. As I mentioned before, I can’t be sure if he’s just ranting to
himself or actually talking to the rest of us. He also likes to watch football.
He used to play it in high school. I only found that out after I stumbled
across his yearbook in the attic and saw that as one of his school activities
(as well as the serious mullet he used to sport). I asked him about
it—football, not the mullet—later, but he didn’t seem too enthused about
talking about it. Maybe he wasn’t that good at it. I don’t know. He likes golf
too, but I think it’s possibly the most boring sport—if you can actually call
it a sport—in the world. He likes to go a lot in the summer, which is why my
family belongs to a country club.
It’s called “Sycamore Grill Acres,” which I think is false
advertising because I think I’ve only ever seen one sycamore tree there while
all the rest look like pine to me. I don’t like the country club. I don’t know
anyone there, and when we go, I usually just wander around or read a book until
my family is ready to go.
I like reading. No, that’s an
understatement. I
love
reading. Reading is fundamental, or at least
that’s what it always said on those little slips you got for a free pizza at
Pizza Hut for reading a certain number of books. I never really cared about
whether or not it was fundamental—mostly because I didn’t know what that meant
for a really long time—but I really just wanted the pizza. Mom usually seemed
pretty pleased about it too. I don’t think it had anything to do with me
reading, though. She just likes getting stuff for free. Skylar says Mom is
cheap, but then again she usually only says that after Mom tells her she can’t
have something she wants.
Mom’s name is Leela. I really like her
name. I think it’s pretty, and I’ve always said that I would never name my
children, if I have any, after anyone (because I think everyone deserves to
have their own name instead of someone else’s), but if I were to name my
children after anyone, it would be Mom. I even told her that once, and she
smiled and said, “Thanks. That’s very nice, Cecilia.”
Mom is a homemaker. I know some people
don’t think that’s a real job, but I do. She’s the backbone of our family.
She’s the one that makes sure everything runs smoothly and gets done when it’s
supposed to. She’s also a bit of a neat freak. We’re not allowed to wear shoes
in the house because she’s afraid we’ll get the carpet dirty, so everyone has
to take his or her shoes off at the door.
Well, everyone except for Dad’s boss.
He and his wife came over for dinner once, and Mom didn’t make
them take their shoes off. Dad is a financial director for a small company named
The Grover Group. I have no idea what he or the company does. When I was
younger, I thought maybe it had something to do with
Sesame Street
,
which Dad quickly assured me it did not, but that’s as much as I do know. Dad
doesn’t like it when I ask questions. He’s kind of impatient, if you ask me.
Mom, on the other hand, doesn’t mind
answering questions—most of the time. When she’s really busy, though, she
usually tells me that we’ll have to talk about it later. We typically don’t,
but that’s okay.
I know a bit more about Mom than I do
about Dad. Mom went to college, and she has a teaching degree. She and Dad met
in college and dated for a couple of years. Then they got married after
graduation.
Mom taught elementary school (second
grade, I think) for a couple of years. She taught while she was pregnant with
Skylar and then had her in July of 1988. Instead of going back to teaching, she
stayed home with my sister. Sixteen months after that, she had Luke. Then, a
little under two years after Luke, I came along.
I’d guess my parents were pretty busy,
so it’s no wonder Mom never went back to work and stayed at home with us
instead, but she probably had more work on her hands with the three of us than
Dad did with his job. My head probably would have exploded if I had to take
care of three little ones under the age of four, but Mom is pretty patient.
After all, she’s willing to answer my infinite number of questions, or at least
quite a few of them at a time.
Mom likes music. I think Skylar, Luke and I all take after her
in that department. Her favorite band is Fleetwood Mac (I asked), and I’m
pretty sure her favorite song is “Go Your Own Way,” but I can’t be completely
sure because she never actually said so. (I’m just making assumptions because
it’s the song she plays most.)