"Starre!" Nina called. "Wake up, O She Who Sleeps Very Late! It's your birthday!"
Starre opened her emerald green eyes, and flung herself out of bed. Her thick, bushy hair fluttered around her tanned face and shoulders as she checked the clock. It was 8:16. She'd be 13 in one hour!
She quickly brushed her teeth and hair, washed her face, and changed into a halter-top and jeans. Her green wings rested comfortable against her back, while her matching tail wound out through a hole in the seat of her pants.
"Coming!" Starre called, taking the steps two at a time. "Do you have pancakes, O She Who Is an Excellent Cook?"
"Yes, I do, O She Who Never Thinks About Anything But Food!" Nina laughed, displaying a stack of steaming, buttery pancakes.
"Thanks, Nina!" Starre grinned, giving Nina a hug. Both of them sat down at the kitchen table, and began to prepare their breakfast.
Nina just cut her pieces as she went, just like always. Starre, however, pre-cut her pieces into perfect little squares, and dipped each one in syrup three times.
"Don't forget the pills," Nina said, shaking a small bottle in Starre's face. Starre stuck out her tongue, and swallowed one pill with her water.
"It's better than behavioral therapy," Starre sighed, swallowing hard to force the pill all the way down.
Behavioral therapy was one of the treatments available for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. in a normal brain, the person thinks a thought, and, after they complete the action associated with the thought, the thought leaves their conscious mind. In the brain of a person with OCD, however, the thought doesn't completely disappear. It plays over and over, so the brain isn't sure whether or not the action associated with the thought has been completed. Thus, the afflicted person creates rituals which they will perform until the brain is sure the action has been completed.
Starre's major rituals were common among people with OCD - they had to do with washing herself. While she showered, she would wash spots over and over, until they were red. Still, she wouldn't stop until she was positive they were clean. Sometimes, she would wash her hands 8 or 9 times in row, just to make sure no germs were left. Nina had walked in on Starre washing her hands. Starre had been diagnosed with OCD several days later.
After a few weeks of torture in behavioral therapy, Starre was begging for medication. During behavioral therapy, Starre was forced to touch something dirty, and not wash her hands. She couldn't get the thought of her dirty hands out of her mind. Even now, 2 years later, it gave her chills to think about it.
The medication Starre was given almost totally obliterated her OCD, but she was still quirky by nature. Like the cutting of her pancake (which was now almost gone), she liked everything to be even if possible. As she liked to say, she was weird in that way.
"I'm done!" Starre cried, fluttering her leathery wings as she ran to get her backpack. "Do I get a ride, or should I take the bus?"
"Come back!" Nina called. "It's Saturday!"
Starre came trudging back, hitting herself on the head with her hand. "I'm such an idiot."
"Don't say that!" Nina said. "Even if you were an idiot, I'd love you to death!"
"You saved me from death," Starre said simply.
"I know," Nina said, hugging her adopted daughter. "I'm the luckiest mom alive!"
"Enough with the mushy stuff!" a male voice cried jokingly. Stevan, Nina's biological son, came trouncing down the steps into the kitchen. "I smell pancakes, and I'm hungry."
"You should have come down here earlier," Starre said mock-sweetly. "They're gone."
Steve crossed his arms. "I'm 15 and growing, and I am starved." He immediately covered his mouth, seeing Starre's expression. Too late.
"Steve," Starre began dryly. "You try sprouting wings and a tail. Go over to Europe, and fly around for a while. They'll catch you, and you'll see what it's like to s-t-a-r-v-e."
"I'm sorry, Starre," Steve said, ashamed. "Really, I didn't mean to -"
"It's fine, Steve!" Starre laughed, playfully punching her brother. "Just don't do it again, eh?"
"Fine," Steve muttered, stalking out of the room. It was embarrassing for a guy's younger sister to be able to out-wrestle him easily, especially when she went around showing it off.
"He's weird," Starre sighed. "Whatever will we do with him, Nina?"
"Make him do his homework!" Nina said loudly, her hands on her hips.
"All we need is a cauldron for you guys to chant around!" Steven yelled back. Starre heard the TV go on, and cringed at the violent loudness of the NFL.
Nina checked the time. "Oh, Starre!" she cried. "Fifteen minutes, and we'll have another moody, obnoxious teen in the family! I'm so excited!"
"I am NOT moody and obnoxious!" Starre yelled sarcastically, narrowing her eyes. She burst into giggles, while Nina raised her eyebrows.
"You are a very strange girl!" Stevan yelled from the living room.
Nina shook her head to herself as Starre rushed in to wrestle with her impudent brother. Nina glanced at the clock. 10 minutes until Starre was 13. She would be thrilled to see what she was going to get from her family.