Alice

Because I am Alice, I do the work around the house. I'm not the Alice in 'Alice in Wonderland', my favorite book. I am not Alice Cullen from that dumb Vampire series. I am just... Alice. the Alice in the real world. The Alice that lives in an R.V. with her parents, and her two brothers. One older, one younger. My mom clearly favors Matthew, the oldest. My dad, a little less clearly, favors Michael. My younger brother. I am the middle child. the middle child who gets nothing. My parents don't travel abroud because we can't aford a house, it's not because of their jobs, no. My mom and dad just had to be the most eccentric people ever. My mom is an author. My dad is a doctor. Why on earth would these two ever get along? I'll tell you what I think. It's because they are both crazy. Not like phycotic, nut house crazy. Like the lime green, creative, loving, awesome, wonderful crazy. They love to make people smile. I am a little fond of their ways. It is a very kind, caring existance. They bought the R.V. because they didn't want to be rooted to one spot. they wanted to meet as many people as possible. I just don't like that my parents show favortism. It would be fine if it was toward me, but no. They had to choose the stinky boys to love more than their only daughter. I'm not bitter. "Alice?" I heard my mom from the pasenger's side. "Yes, Mother?" I said, sophisticatedly. I heard my dad giggle. "Could you wake up your little brother from his nap? He won't sleep at all if he doesn't wake up soon." I sighed. "Quit Huffing and puffing." I heard Matthew snap from the bunk above me. I gritted my teeth and went over to the couch that folded out into a bed where Michael, mom and dad slept. "Mikey?" I said quietly and shook him gently. "Sissy? Where's mommy?" "She's in the front, with daddy." I said to him, kindly, yet a little irritated because he knew he was her favorite. He pushed the blankets off his three year old body and began walking toward his loving mother. I longed to be loved like they were. I longed to have someone to call for when I woke up in the morning. Unlike my parents, I wanted a house where I could settle down. I would love all my children equally. I would have a good job, a normal job, that lots of people had. One that didn't involve writing or healing people. I fought the urge to jump out the window of the moving vehicle and run away. No one would care. Matthew would throw a party, Michael would think he'd dreampt ever even having a sister, and trust me, my parents would get over it. but I loved them regardless of how much they cared for me. I would never leave them, I'd come back eventually even if I did. I mean, how long can an eleven year old make it on her own?