"Zitao!" my mother screeched up to me, waking me up from the light nap I had been taking. It was really all I did now-a-days, I had just graduated from highschool, and there was really not much to do besides sleep all day.

I groaned when I heard her, I hated her using my full name like that. Yeah, it's Zitao, but most people usually just called me Tao, so when she used my full name, it usually meant something bad was going to happen.

"Huang Zitao!" she called louder, making me want to bury my head into my pillow. Not only did she have to use my first full name, but she had to go and pull out my full-full name too. If there was one thing I hated more than the name Zitao.

But instead of ignoring her, like I wanted to, I got out of bed, not really feeling like having her screech up to me anymore. I looked at the clock next to my bed. 3:30 pm, and I was still in my pajamas. I shook out my black hair. It was a mess, as always. I hated my hair almost as much as I hated my name.

I clomped down the stairs as heavily as I could, hoping my mother would hear my footsteps and realize how she had just woken me up out of my slumber and feel badly. Fat chance, I thought, but worth a try. I walked around my house, trying to find her, until I finally found her, sitting with my father, in the living room.

"What's wrong?" I asked bluntly. My mother was looking nervous, and my father was looking concerned, which was strange because he usually never looked anything besides annoyed. My parents were pretty attractive people. My mom had bright auburn hair, pale freckled skin and brown eyes. My father had graying hair that had once been brown, pale skin and brown eyes. I was a sort of combination of both of him, inheriting pretty much only their bad traits. Yay me!

"What do you mean, 'what's wrong?’There isn't anything wrong! Why would you think there's something wrong?" My mother asked me quickly. I scoffed.

"First of all: You only use my full name when something is wrong. Second of all: Both you and Dad are here, which means it must be important. Third of all: You're wringing your hands so hard they're probably going to fall off and fourth of all: You're speaking really quickly and telling me 'There's nothing wrong, why would you think there's something wrong'...so obviously something is up." I explained. My mother and father glanced at each other before turning back to me.

"Tao, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?" My father asked. Oh god, here we go again, I thought, annoyed. They were going to lecture me again on how I needed to go to college, or get a job or anything. Jeez. I could figure it out myself...I was 18.

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