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This was no joke. I was officially without a job, therefore without money, and therefore without a life. Now for a sixteen year old girl with a father whose banks were overflowing with money, this should be no problem. But it is. Thanks to my so called ‘spending habits’, and occasional use of credit cards, I’ve been confined to a life of degrading labor. I mean, sure I admit, I did kinda use the credit card once (or twice) a day, but that should be no problem. I'm just a girl; it’s normal.
“Hello! What part of get out of here don’t you get??!! I fired you ten minutes ago.”
“Alright, alright, keep your hat on,” I picked up my bag about to leave, “but I'm telling you her hair looks better pink.”
The customer I was referring to glared at me. I glared back- I was right the pink hair did suit her, or at least her skin color. So what if pink was slightly different from blonde?!! It wasn’t my fault that my father thought that hairdressing what the perfect job for his daughter. “Honestly! How outrageous,” I moaned out loud.

Fifteen minutes later I was in my car outside Daddy’s office. “There is no way I am telling him I’ve lost another job.” It was the fourth one this week. Oh well! Daddy would have to understand. It’s just too hard; I can’t work for money.
“The idea is simply preposterous!” I found myself telling my father. He hadn’t said a thing since I walked in. “ I have sent your ridiculous excuse for a resume in, to the McDonald’s manager. Hopefully, he’ll see behind the perfume, and the rainbow- colored paper, and consider interviewing you for a…”

“MCDONALD???!!!!” I cut him short. “Daddy, are you crazy?!! I can’t work in McDonald. I'm too…too...too…perfect. Why, think of my nails, my hair, that horrible smell. No, Daddy. I cannot work in McDonald. It’s out of the question.” My efforts were deemed useless. My father remained firm, and the irksome smile on his face told me that we were about to enter all too familiar grounds and have ‘the talk”.
“Sweetheart, take a sit. Look, I know that you are hurt, and that you consider this somewhat demeaning, but I can assure that it will only build you up. How do you think I got to where I am today?”

“I know, I know, you washed toilet…blah, blah, blah.”
“Very funny,” sarcasm written all over his face. “Anyways, my point is that if you don’t learn how to strive in the workplace now, you never will. And if you don’t know how to work… money runs out fast, Kayla.
“Yes Daddy,” I got up ready to leave.
“Oh, and er…sweetheart?”
“Yes Daddy?”
“If you can actually manage to keep a job, then perhaps I’ll consider giving you back your credit cards. You would like that?”
“YES! I mean…sure Daddy. So, what day exactly are we talking about here,” taking a seat again.
“Kay…”
“Come on, Daddy, I need specifics. I need to know when. If I learn responsibility by Thursday this week, can I have the cards back by say, Thursday afternoon?”
“Well…”
“It is a done deal. Please have my cards ready by Thursday,” I got up again with a whole lot more enthusiasm and reason to live.
“Kayla, I hope you realize that Thursday is in two days. Today is Tuesday.”
“Of course Daddy. I won’t disappoint you. See at home.”

Suddenly, this was the best day of my life. On Thursday, I could finally pick up that dress in Lila’s that I had been lusting for. Oh, and my nails were in desperate need of a manicure. Don’t even get me started on my hairs. I looked like rag doll. They are not pretty.

Pewee! Pewee! Pewee! I turned off my alarm and rolled over, meaning to fall asleep again, and dream of Brad Alderson, the school hottie. However, this was obviously not the intent of God. Woof! Woof! Woof! I moaned, and kicked at the base of the covers, at the mass that had formed there. Boom! The sound was followed by a yelp, and then silence. “Oh my gosh!” I screamed realizing the recklessness of my actions. “Mini. Are you okay, my baby?”
The poodle did not move. “MOTHER! HELP ME!” My mother rushed into the room.
“What is it, Kayla dear.”
“I killed her. I killed Mini,” my sobbing began to get irrepressible. “I didn’t realize she was there, and I…I … I KICKED HER!” My mother was on her hands and knees, performing what seemed to be CPR on my dog. After a few seconds, there appeared to a hint of life left, because Mini began to move her tail.
“Oh mom, you saved her. You saved her,” I took the now conscious dog from her, and began to cuddle her. “I am sooo sorry, Mini.”
Mommy shook her head, and smiled. “That’s the last time that Mini is sleeping the same room as you, Kayla,” planting a kiss on my head.
“I completely agree with you, Mom.”
“Well get dressed, dear. Don’t want to be late for school,” as she closed the door behind her and the dog.

I looked at the clock, and astonishingly enough it was only a quarter to eight. If I hurried, I could catch some rays before it became eight o'clock. However as I mentioned earlier, it was not in accordance with ‘God’s plan’. Rebecca, my personal assistant knocked on the door, and walked in without waiting for an answer (which would never have come).
“Are you up yet?” fully oblivious to the fact that I was still in my bed, buried under the blanket, and feigning a snore. She drew the curtains, letting in more than enough sunrays. I stood my ground. A girl should be allowed to have her beauty sleep. After all, I had been up half last night, talking to Leslie on the phone. Surely, I was granted a couple more hours to restore that lost time.

“You are going to be late for school.” I remained adamant. “Oh, and er…your father said to tell you that today is a good day to start being responsible, if you want to stick to the deal.”
Well now that caught my attention. I jumped out of bed, deciding that I could catch up on that sleep later. “Oh, good morning Rebecca. Whatever are you doing here?”
“Honestly ma’am, how long are you going to keep up that charade,” shaking her head. “You’d better take a shower, you have approximately fifteen minutes to get ready for school.”
I zoomed into the shower; taking the quickest bath I had ever taken- ten minutes. Yesterday’s bath only taken eleven minutes.
Approximately twelve minutes later, I was in my car, and on the way to school. Actually, not quite. Somehow, there seemed to be a lot of traffic this morning. “Will you people get out of the way? Some people here are going to be late for school.” I had once been told that I suffered from road rage. Well now, I agreed and it was justifiable.
“Okay, this calls for some serious action, but remember, you asked for it,” I yelled to the drivers ahead of me.
I took hold of the sterling wheel, and reversed adequately enough for me to be able to swerve out of that lane and into another. With ample amounts of veering and turning, I managed to end up, about 1km away from Westonbridge High. Of course, with my luck, that was only as far as I got. There, in front of me, a blue Lamborghini, fully aware of my objective, was driving at a ridiculous 15km/h. “You have got to be kidding,” I fumed. “I am already three minutes late for homeroom. Ms Idiot is going to kill me.”

Yet, as if the driver needed to prolong his pleasure, as if the fury that was venting from my every being was some kind of reward, the car stopped. 989.3km away from the school, and the idiot stopped. My mouth opened in awe; I was surmount with me fear. I knew what this was. I had seen things like this in books and horror movies. The driver was a serial killer. “He must be.” Automatically, I wound up all my windows, and began to pray to every god that I knew existed.

The Kayla- declared criminal stepped out his car. Looks were definitely not as expected. “Sometimes, cute guys can be serial killers too, you know,” trying to reassuring myself.
The guy came up to my car, and said, “have you lost your mind?” I was appalled. All thought of serial killers, murders and hijackers fled my mind. No- one talked to me like that. “Excuse me??!! I don’t think I heard you correctly,” winding down my window, “you see, for one split second there, I thought you said something about me losing my mind, and considering the fact that you’re the one packed in the middle of the road, blocking all other cars, I don’t think you would say such an illogical thing. Now please do move your…”
“So let me get this straight,” cutting me short, “you want me to move my car?”
“YES! Hello! Where have you been?” A smile enveloped my face. It was a honest mistake. No harm done. (Maybe he was just trying to get my attention)
“Um…sorry none can do.”
“What?” My arms began to twitch, as I tried to resist the urge to slap him. (Well he most certainly had my attention)
“What? You’re telling me that you want me to move my car so that you can go on driving like a lunatic? I don’t think so. See, if you keep on driving like a harebrained dim wit, you might end up killing someone, and if you’re lucky enough, you might end up in the hospital too.
“No you see, that’s where you get it all wrong. If you have enough so much as half a brain, you’ll get out of my way. If you haven’t got one, well then I pity that car of yours.”

I started my car. If the only way to get to the school was to drive over the guy’s car, the I was going to drive over the guy’s car. The sirens that appeared to be drawing nearer changed my mind. Maybe, I’d save the guy’s car. “Great, here come the police. And I'm nearly one hour late for school, and my responsibility test starts today.

Then the pea- brain had the nerve to laugh. “Responsibility test? You? I doubt it.”
“For your information, you know nothing about me. I am very responsible.” He grinned. To him, this whole scenario seemed to be funny. “Well, we’ll see what the police have to say about that.”
The police car stopped; Marco and PJ exited the car. “What is the reason for this hold- up?”
“Yes officer, this young lady is a danger to the community; perhaps, you could give her a breath test or something. She’s been driving as though…”
“I am NOT drunk…idiot.”
“Hey, you can never be too sure,” he smiled, and stepped aside as the officer ordered me to get out of the car. How humiliating.

Upon seeing my face, the two men groaned, “Kayla, it’s you again.”
“You know her?” My capturer seemed surprised.
“Yup, we see her almost every day of the week.”
“Well of course you see me every week. I go to school, don’t I? I felt the need to defend myself.
“Well, Kayla, so much fro responsibility. I had better get going myself. Oh, and um… if I ever see you driving like that again, I won’t hesitate to do the same thing.

He drove off then. After handing three tickets, and one last warning, the officers let me go. Aaargh! Now I had six more tickets to add to my collection. By the time I got to school, homeroom was long gone, and Ms Devoirs was teaching French. I would have to find a way to get inside with her noticing. Lana saw me, and realized what she had to do. She began what proved to be a useless attempt at gaining the teacher’s attention. “But Miss, I don’t understand this sentence. I need your help.”
“I wil galp you when you ask me in French. I taught you dis deux years ago.”
“But miss…”
The teacher ignored her. Great. “C’mon cava?” Leslie butted in.
“I beg your pardon?” Ms Devoirs was not amused.
“ I said, come and serve her. It is your duty as the teacher.”
“And it your duty a student to listen me and learn. Five years French education, and you still not know difference between greetings and questions! Why not? You fail your class each year!”
“Well maybe if you helped us a bit more we would actually pass sil’ vous plait.
The teacher sighed, and decided that perhaps Leslie was right. I managed to sneak in unnoticed, and last the entire day. My responsibility test would have to wait until tomorrow.