Glass shattering hollers wake me from my nap.The shotgun-like abruptness seizes me from my dream. My grogginess is soon forgotten when I see what is making the noise.

"Joan!" screaming like a parrot.

"Joan! Joan! Joan Marie Lewis!" Ugh, she is starting to say my full name. That means she is really mad. I begin to say my prayers. Dear Lord in Heaven promise me that when I die I'll go to a better place.

She slams my door open without warning. The whole room shivers with fear. I know I am not going to get out of this alive. The vein above her eyebrow is pulsing.

"Joan! Why didn't you answer me?"

"I'm sorry. I was in the middle of a nap."

"A nap? You're sleeping again? God, all you ever do is sleep. Maybe that's why you failed your math test!"

Color drains from my face. Oh God, how'd she find out?

"You...saw?"

"That's right. I found your test. A test with a big red 67 on it!"

I stare at her with empty eyes. I don't have any words to say. While a part of me is angered and outraged that she barged into my room, looked through my things, and accused me as if I committed murder, another part of me is ashamed. Ashamed and disapointed myself. Why didn't I just tell her the truth?Maybe we could've talked it out. But maybe we couldn't.

As nothing comes out of my mouth and my eyes begin to glare over, she starts again.

"What is up with you? Do you even hear me? I want to know why you failed this test. Hello? Anyone there?" She stops and sighs a typhoon.

"I don't understand you. All you ever do is live in your daydreams and stare off into space. You're always so...dazed."

"I'm sorry, I'm going to retake the test and I promise I'll be more focused from now on." I sound like a broken record.

"Fine. Retake the test. You better make a better grade. But don't you promise me that you'll be more focused from now on because you know just as much I do that once I leave this room you'll be dazed and confused all over again."

I just look at the door now. "Please go" I concentrate. I block out her jabbing words.  

Finally after her hissing deflates me, she leaves. As she walks, I hear her say something under my breath I wish I hadn't.

"I don't know how she turned out like this?"

The room is somehow left intact. I feel like I can breath again. Everytime we speak I can't breath. Maybe that's why I relate talking to mother with dying.

Yet I am far from tears. She doesn't make me cry anymore. She can't.

I lay back down on my pillow just as my mother predicted.

"She's right again," I think as I close my eyes and resume my nap, falling asleep faster than ever before.