critisisms are welcome. it’s called- That weird shade of red

The throbbing and irritating pain that was coming from my foot awoke me from my sleep. Brilliant-first day at a new school, in the middle of the semester with a broken ankle. People would think that I was a freak looking for attention and sympathy. I groaned and forced my upper body to stand vertically. Oliver, my cat meowed and jumped into my arms. His bright orange fur fell down on my black sweatpants. Usually, that would have bothered me, but today, I wished I could stay like this forever.
As if my life isn’t already horrible. I am accident-prone. I just moved from New Jersey to a small, suburban town in Southern California. On my first day at a new house, I fell off the stairs and broke my ankle. I am not socially prepared for 8th grade, let alone in a new state, new town, and new school. What else? Oh, right. I can see things before they happen. How entirely normal.
The sun finally rose, shining through my window. The light caused a portion of my hair to turn a shade of red and another light brown. I glanced at the mirror to find my reflection staring back at me, looking pale as ever, if that was even possible. My eyes were bloated, lips were creased, and my cheeks were pink. A definite symptom of first-day-of-school phobia. It needed some serious work, both my face and the phobia.
I wrapped my cast in plastic, just as the doctor instructed and somehow managed to get in the shower. I quickly washed my hair, using my favorite kiwi shampoo. The scent, however, did not help me calm down at all.
I dressed in my usual t-shirt and shorts outfit. I couldn’t wear jeans for another week because of my stupid cast. It was sunny outside although it was January, (the California weather was getting on my nerves; it was so dry.) so I stuffed a hat in my backpack with all my other school supplies. Patting my hair with a dry towel, I looked at my computer that I had turned on a few minutes ago.
Woman_of_household: Eat your breakfast, and good luck at school, both of you.
Woman_of_household has signed off.
Football+foosball: Bye Mom. Have fun at work. We need paper bags, by the way.
Man_of_household: I’m leaving. Good luck at school, kids. I’ll get the bags.
White_cast_24/7: Matt, please turn off that music. Bye Dad.
Man_of_household has signed off
Football+foosball: I’m leaving, Jane. Have fun at school.
Football+foosball has signed off.
My family communicates through the computer, which is completely abnormal to others. But we’re fine with it. We don’t talk much, with the exception of Matt. He’s always blabbering about foosball, football, wrestling, rap, his conglomeration and so on and so forth.
It’s hard to believe that we are actually related by analyzing our personalities. He is optimistic most of the time, a bit loquacious but not socially awkward, kind, pretty good looking with his short cropped hair, and very solicitious. We didn’t fight at all. We got along well, almost too well for a brother two years older than his sister.
I, on the other hand, am not a optimist, but not an pessimist either. I am pretty much in the middle. I don’t talk much. I am socially awkward; I could never really start small talk, let alone a conversation without stuttering in the first five seconds. Unlike Matt, I was plain, because I never really cared about my appearance. My pale skin, black, lifeless eyes, thin nose, thin lips, and brown hair scream “AVERAGE!” each time I look in the mirror.
Fishing out an apple from the fridge, I looked around. The house was empty now; Mom and Dad were at work, and Matt drove himself to gym before school. The-one-without-a-permit took the bus to school.
Bus. School.
I had blocked every premonition that related or connected to school. Surprisingly, it had worked until now. I couldn’t resist anymore. My eyes drifted, not to sleep, but to unconsciousness and into my vision.
I could see myself falling, stumbling, and dropping my books. Algebra wasn’t bad, except the cranky old teacher, Mr. Stewart. He would pick on me for answers, even if my hand wasn’t up. Good thing that I had studied Algebra day and night. Fortunately, the kids seemed nice. I saw a girl with long, wavy strawberry blonde hair and green eyes ask me to sit with her on the bus. The school lunch today was vegetarian lasagna with salad.
I saw the school from a bird’s eye view now, from the left and from the right. Subconsciously, my hands searched and found writing utensils. I sketched a map of the school. I couldn’t locate the gymnasium; I assumed that it must be inside one of the school buildings.
My eyes fluttered open without reason, meaning that it was the end of my vision. I brushed my teeth quickly but thoroughly, removing traces of the apple. I decided to wait on the front porch for the bus to come, so that it wouldn’t take forever to lock up and walk over. As my eyes focused on my neighbors, I noticed that they were all tan, unlike me. I coul

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