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Teenagers want the Beatles, not Jesus!! Read the largest poster in Alora Pickets room, as the morning sun shone through the large French windows. The dark oak floors were scattered with clothing and books, and the rooms walls stayed their original white colour, making space for the shades of posters.
She had decorated it with very much her own taste, much to the dismay of both her very straightforward parents.
Alora Picket was not the daughter they expected!!
The blonde witch rolled over in her queen sized bed, the object that reminded her she was oh so lonely. Her long hair was spread out on the clean white sheets, forming her face like a golden halo. She insisted on wearing her "David Bowie rocks!!" shirt to sleep EVERY NIGHT, resulting in Kate Picket buying her daughter the even number of 4.
of the exact same shirts.
Kate Picket was a very proper women. Very beautiful, very good at tennis (her back swing the best you've ever seen) and very judgemental. The women had seemed to be this way her entire life, but Alora just couldn't picture a younger version of her mother. Alora decided that Kate had been born 40, and stayed that way every since.
Lora Picket was nothing like the rest of her family.
Mitchel Picket was a man with no personality. The only thing her dad did that made him slightly seem like a human being was complain. ( which he did VERY often ) The light haired man was a full on workaholic, sitting at his desk for many hours of the day, shouting not so nice words into his phone. Mitchel Picket was a dead soul in a living body. Not so fun to be around.
Quinton Picket. Oh god.
Quin, being the oldest Picket child, and the smartest, and the funniest, and all the other personality traits he did not acquire, (but thought he did) was a water blanket to every occasion. Alora heard that in first year he single handedly shut down a slytherin party, without the help of any teachers. And he was a fucking hufflepuff.
Now that the eldest was announced to become head boy, his actual head had become, if possible, triple the size.
Alora Picket dreaded a world where Quinton was in charge!
Atlas Picket, the youngest of the family, was the one member the Alora could stand. About to go into his first year at Hogwarts, the 13 year old boy was beyond excited. His daily life consisted of swimming in the large Picket pool, getting yelled at by Kate, and sometimes (when his sister was in a good mood) chatting to Alora in her bedroom. He had a kind soul, always worried about the people around him, and trying to make them feel better. And even though the L word made Alora want to barf, You could say she loved Atlas with all her broken heart.
The nearly 16 year old girl suddenly stretched out in her bed, grumbling slightly. She was definitely not a morning person. Yuck ! Morning people, Alora had decided, were the absolute worst kinds of people. They were the people who left parties early and became head boy. Rather disgusting.
Night people were the absolute best. They could stay up all night, dancing in the colourful lights or finishing a beautiful book. Night people saw the world differently to morning people, they saw it as a place of possibility. Alora could admit that her opinion was quite biased, but she didn't really care. Being outspoken was her favorite trait.
She was about to go back to sleep, when a loud tapping sound filled her room.
Alora looked over to see the family owl, snow (very original) staring at her with beady eyes, a white envelope clasped in his black beak. She sighed before pulling herself out of bed, padding towards her large bedroom window. As Alora opened it, the owl came flapping in, landing on her dresser. Snow dropped the letter, before looking at the girl expectantly, waiting for a treat.
"Uh shoo , shoo bird" muttered Alora, waving her arms in the direction of the door. Snow pecked her hand angrily, before flying out.
"Fuck!" Exclaimed Lora, staring at the red mark appearing on her hand. Getting over it quickly, she flopped back onto her bed, before opening the envelope
Dear Alora God - I miss you! Even though it's only been a few weeks, I feel like we haven't seen each other in years!
I'm in living hell, you need to get me out of here. My mum is forcing me to GO RUNNING WITH HER. ( as you should know, exercise is my worst nightmare)
I wish you lived closer to me and Roselyn :( it's okay though, invite us to your French mansion and we will forgive you! Do you want to meet us at diagon alley the day b4 school starts? It will be great!
Let me know!
Lots of luv Violet
Ps - Roselyn wants me to tell you her owl died?
P.P.s - that's why she can't send you a letter! ( can you tell I'm being forced to wri)
The letter finished with a large blotch of ink, covering whatever Violet was going to say. Alora could only guess.
She chuckled warmly before grabbing a pen and writing back.
After a few hours ( that's how long it took the girl to wake up) Alora was sitting comfortably on her balcony, overlooking the beautiful French countryside. Her long legs were sprawled out on a deckchair, and perched on her nose lay a vintage pair of Chanel sunglasses ( she considered herself a master thrifter )
"Alora darling -" her mother had said with a look of disapproval, when spotting the pair of sunnies.
"We can get you a much nicer pair, a - newer version. I'm sure it will make all your little friends jealous."
"Mom" Alora had sighed " these are from the 80's spring collection! They are priceless! And I'd rather wear something I like, than something that makes 'my little friends jealous."
"Oh don't get so touchy honey. I've always wondered who you inherited that from!"
"Yeah." The girl had muttered sarcastically "I wonder who?"
Now she lay under the warm summer sun, taking up as much of it as she could. Summer was definitely Alora's absolute favorite season, for many reasons.
In summer, everything was golden. The air, the grass, the people. Summer made everyone shine.
But the seasons were already starting to change. The sage leaves were fading into a pumpkin hue, and the light wind was becoming more of a brisk gust.
In the end, everything you loved always had to go.
In the Picket house, lived the golden haired Picket family Each one dealing with struggles of their own
