TYS (Rewrite) Ch 1.

"Bill!" my mother called.
I groaned loudly and opened my heavy eyelids. The strips of light on the ceiling confirmed that it was morning, I turned to my window and drew open my plastic shades. The sun blinded me for a minute and hurt my eyes.

"Ugh." I groaned.

"Bill? Are you up?" My mom knocked on my door.

"Yeah." I yawned.

"Well, get dressed! You know we're going to see Al's soccer game!" She reminded.

I groaned again. "Ok, mom, I'll be down there in five minutes!"
I jumped off my bed and maneuvered around the games, books and clothes littered around the room to my dresser. It was old and tan with a big, round mirror on the desk. My sister calls it a vanity, but I'm pretty sure it's a dresser. On the right were books, papers and my DS and my left was a plastic head display (You know, the ones that they put hats on in stores) with my grandfather's prized possession as well as mine, his Vietnam veteran green beret.
I smiled and smoothed out the wrinkles, looking at the familiar mickey-mouse head shaped blood stain. It always made me wonder, was it from a felled soldier? Or a non-suspecting zombie? I pondered whether to wear it today, but decided not to. I took out a blue tee-shirt and black jeans and put them on, quickly combed out tangles in my dark brown hair.

"Bill!" A young voice yelled.

"Coming!" I called back.
Opening the door, I saw it was Claire, my little sister. She was a short eight year old with brown hair, dark blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She was wearing a yellow shirt, tan capris and her hair in a ponytail. Because she was looking at me sternly, I knew she was mad about something. And Claire being Claire she was going to argue with me, like always.

"You promised to listen my new piano piece last night, but you just went to your bedroom and fell asleep for the rest of the day!" She complained banging her fists on my chest.

"I'm sorry, Claire." I apologized, throwing my hands up in defeat. "But I was so worn out after baseball with Ron."

"That doesn't give an excuse! You went to the shower before you went to bed!" Claire countered.
My father walked up the stairs that were in front of my bedroom door. He was a tall, dirty blonde with dark blue eyes that my sister inherited, liked rock music, relaxing, cars and being with family and friends. I always looked up to him, even if he wasn't my real father, he was a Southern, soft-spoken, gentleman.

"What's goin' on up here?" He asked.

"Bill went to bed without listening to my piano piece!" Claire yelled.

My father smiled, walked up to Claire and knelt down.

"Well if he listened to your song he would start falling asleep cause' he was so tired. That would make you think he thought it was boring, but of course it's not. He didn't want to hurt your feelings, that's all."

Claire's pout turned into a small smile. "Thanks dad, sorry Bill."

"Good girl." My father kissed her forehead. "Now go down to breakfast."
Claire bounced down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Thanks for that dad." I sighed with a smile.

"You're welcome kiddo." He ruffled my hair a bit and laughed. "Let's go eat breakfast."

The two of us walked into the kitchen, the smell of bacon and fried eggs wafted into my nose. I saw my youngest sister, Kimberly or Kim, was at the table talking to Claire. She was five years old, short brown hair, green eyes and rosy skin. She loved the idea of being a princess, which is why she was wearing a frilly pink dress and white buckle shoes, horses and getting whatever she wants. Boy, I hope she doesn't become a bit too spoiled.
Being held by my father was the youngest of us children, David, or rather Davy. He was a small, three year old little boy with dark blonde hair, blue eyes and a little chubby to be honest. He was wearing grey overalls and a green shirt. He loves cars, making zooming noises and eating.

"Bill, can you help me put the food on the table?" My mother asked.

"Sure mom." I replied.

I took the bacon while my mother took the eggs and we both placed them on our round dining table. My mother served the eggs and bacon to Davy and Kimberly and they happily dug in.

"What's the magic word you say after that?" my father asked the two.

"Abra kadabra?" Kim guessed taking a bite of bacon.

"Pwease?" Davy replied, mid-chew through his egg.

"No, 'thank you' is the word." I told them, starting on my eggs.

The sun was out, it was early Summer and the heat was already apparent. School ended just last week, I had graduated from middle school on the B honor role and won a superlative for "Most Likely to Survive another Zombie Apocalypse" , My five other friends also graduated.
Ace, a bald, tough teen, barely passed with a D- in most of his classes and won the superlative for "Most Likely To Go To Jail" (His father, Francis, was never more proud, his mother was a different story). Cory, a smart, neat haired African-American, who is a year younger than me and skipped a grade, won valedictorian and "Most Likely to Beat Bill Gates in a Game of Chess". Amy, a dark-skinned biracial friend the same age as me won "Most Likely to Become a Pop-Star" and her "younger" twin brother, a fair-skinned, green-eyed proud boy named Josh who got runner-up to Ace in his superlative(He was mad for not winning, but Uncle Nick said it was a good thing. "Less trouble." He said) And my best friend since we were four, Ron, graduated with me. He's a friendly, reckless, dirty blonde-haired and constatly-in-trouble-for-doing-something-stupid person and won "The Next Evel Knievel" superlative.
Claire just finished third grade, halfway through her elementary school years she's going on to the more serious classes. My friend, Al my grand Uncle Coach's oldest grandson, who was probably the most athletic kid I'll ever meet and in the future will probably be in the World Cup, finished fifth grade.

"So who's Al's team up against this time?" I asked my mother.

She wiped egg-yolk off her mouth. "Some kids from the town over."

"I heard nothing special about them," Claire remarked slashing her bacon into tiny pieces. "They're not nearly as good as Al's team."

"Now 'ang on Claire, you know it's not polite to say things like that." My father said sternly.

"Yeah Cwaire." Davy said banging his fork against the table.

Claire grumbled and poked her yolk to death. I cut into my bacon and lifted it to my lips. Eating the smoky, salty bacon my father turned on the small, white, old TV on the counter. It was the news, my aunt Rochelle, who was an action reporter, was on. She was wearing a blue shirt, a black business jacket and her hair in a bun. She was standing in what looked like a highway. A green 2010 Toyota(c) minivan was smashed in the front corner and the hood looked like five Jabba the Huts sat on it.

"This car is was completely totalled and wrecked for unknown reasons, the police believe it was attacked and the driver fled. They have yet to track down the owner of the SUV, more details later." Rochelle said.

The transitional music played and it showed the weather. It was sunny for the entire week.

"Can we go to the water park this week?" Claire asked egarly.

"Sure." My father said, getting another egg. "We'll pack up the van and head down for the whole day."

"Yay! Thanks dad!" Claire said with a bright smile.

"Can we take everyone else too?" I added.

"I want to play with everyone again." Kim agreed with a vigorous nod.

Zoey laughed dryly. "Only if Ace stops threatening to pee in the pool to get money."

Claire went pale. "Nevermind about the water park."

All of us laughed so loudly that I hoped that the neighbors didn't hear us. We swiftly finished breakfast, then pilled into our dull grey Dodge(c) van with black seats. My mother put Davy in his baby seat and Kim next to him while Claire and I sat in the back, even if she didn't like it much.
We drove down the street with the radio playing "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5 (c) with my father singing along. I laughed and sang along with him and Claire joined me. Davy put his hands to his ears and frowned, and my mother laughed and turned off the radio.

"Oh come on mom!" Claire said with a giggle.

"You're hurting your little brother's ears!" My mother replied with a laugh.

The whole family, even Davy, started laughing again. We drove for about fifteen minutes to the park. It had a green grass soccer field, a red and orange playground with tan bark and tall swings that always seem to be occupied and it was surrounded by trees.
I spotted Nick and Rochelle's brand-new black, leather seated BMW(c) and Great Uncle Coach's old brown, dented sedan, how it got the dents...Let's just say don't be a backseat driver while uncle Coach is in the front. We parked our car and got out.

"Yo Bill!" a voice called.

I knew right away it was Ron. He was wearing a blue baseball cap, yellow and black shirt and worn, torn faded jeans that were stained with green. He gave me one of his sunshine bright grins and ran up to me.

"How ya doin', my friend?" He greeted with a wave, his Southern drawl clearly apparent.

"Good, and you?" I asked.

"Great, Al and the rest are by the field. It's gonna be one heck of'va game!"

He gave an arm pump and ran towards them. Coach, Rochelle, Keith, Louis, all dressed in blue honoring the color of Al's team color, were preparing Coach's county-fair winning BBQ chicken. Claire ran off with my mother, Kim and Davy to the playground. I spotted Cory, sitting under a tree reading Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers wearing a button up blue shirt and khakis. Amy wasn't too far from him, she was practicing singing alone while donning a purple sundress. I could see Ace and Francis with leather vests and Josh and Nick arguing with them, probably about the grass stain on Josh's fancy white pants, and Al's team in light blue soccer outfits were warming up.
I went to where the adults were, sniffing the honey glaze of the BBQ and sat down.

"Good to see you Bill." Rochelle greeted, still occupied by watching the meat.

"You too aunt Rochelle." I glanced back at the field. "When will they start?"

"Soon." she stated simply.

I continued to watch the players, the backround noise consisted of people talking and the sizzling meat.

"Should I tell him?" I heard Rochelle whisper.

"I'd rather tell them all together." Coach replied.