Dreams

One

"Amelia!"

I take a breath, my fingers holding the edge of the book a little bit tighter. My eyes scan the page fast, but I make sure to let each word sink in. Only a few more pages and I'd finish the chapter. And only a few more chapters and I'd finish the book.... More shouts of my name make me quicken my pace.

"Amelia, downstairs! Now!"

"Just a second!" I yell back, not moving from my current state. Such a comfy I'm in, my back against the soft cushions, my legs resting on the headboard. If I move, it'll take ages to get this relaxed again. My mom calls my name again, but I flip to the next page.

Before I know it, the door opens. I close my eyes—and my book—shut. Do I dare look? I open one eye. Although sideways, I see my mother quite well, her arms crossed and her lips pointing downwards, the wrinkles of her face being more pronounced as she gives me the look. "Hey."

She walks up to me, and my book disappears from my fingertips. Not even a chance to fight back, how sad. "You were ready the whole time? I thought you were still showering."

I sit up right, to face her properly. "I was still showering," I say, putting on one of my more innocent smiles, "forty minutes ago."

"Fix your bed, and get downstairs."

I nod, and reach for my book back. She slaps my hand—ow!—and shakes her head.

"No." Then she's out the door.

Sighing, I fix my bed like I am told which doesn't take long. Feeling the emptiness of a missing book, I head to the shelves. Most of them are filled with books I've read and finished, but thankfully I have an emergency stock. "Mom's surely going to give it back," I assure myself, as I stare at another unread book. But you can't go wrong with too many books. So, I decide to put it in my bag anyway.

The moment I go downstairs and look past the counter, I feel the tension. Mom and Dad are avoiding each other's gaze again. I've past the point of being surprised. Last night, I could hear the shouting from my room. At least they're not fighting now.

Now or never, Lia. I step into the dining room, sliding my bag into one of the empty seats. I see my book, right within reach.

"Don't even think about it." My mom doesn't even turn her head from the magazine she's reading.

The chuckle I hear next comes from my dad, who looks up from his newspaper and mouths the word 'crazy'. I can't help but grin.

"Morning Dad," I say, giving him a hug from behind. I hear Mom groan from the other side of the table, but I pretend not to hear it. He gives me a comforting smile and I sit down.

I take my plate and fill it with it the breakfast they left for me, half a plate of scrambled eggs. "It's cold." I couldn't help it, it just slipped out. Great, now you've done it.

"It wasn't cold a while ago, if you had just gone down earlier. Just eat up, don't complain."

"I wasn't complaining, just stating a fact."

"There was also some bacon and rice," Dad says, nonchalantly.

"And you couldn't save some for me?" I look at Mom, who had put down her magazine to glare at her husband.

"Like I said, you should have gone down earlier." She purses her lips and looks directly at my stomach. "Besides, you're getting fat anyway."

Suddenly I feel my cheeks warming, and my eyes looking down. "So, I have a little belly fat, what's wrong with that? I'm healthy."