The Struggle

Chapter 1

My stomach roars in hunger as Mackenzie and I trudge down the road after school. It has been like this for six weeks now. Ever since the famine has occurred, the only food my little sister and I get is a piece of stale bread. "Madison, how much longer do you think the famine will last?" Mackenzie sighs. "I don't know, Kenzie. Not much longer I'd say." My beautiful little sister beams at me with hope in her eyes. I knew the truth, though. This famine was going to go on for another year. The two of us slowly glide up the driveway to our little house and Mackenzie tips the doorbell on the wall. Our mom comes rushing out, looking stressed. "Mom, everything alright?" I wonder. "Yes, Madison. Everything is fine, I just-" she rushes off to the kitchen, still all tensed up. It was probably just stress about bills and how to feed her family. That was understandable. My sister and I step inside the house and sling off our heavy school bags from our tired shoulders. "Hey, Mackenzie, want to go to the basement and do a dance recital?" "Sure!" Mackenzie chirps. You see, I have always had a burning love of dance, and when my baby sister came along, I may have sucked her into it too and it turns out she had a heart just as big as mine for it! We could never afford dance lessons, so we just made do with what we had and used the basement to dance in. Mackenzie and I race down the stairs and into the large open space known as a stage for us. It was her turn first so she got five minutes to make up a dance without music and I got to watch. The routine was about the famine and how hard life was. Excuse me-is. Mackenzie's dance was flawless and really expressed her inner feelings. She was always flawless in my eyes. After a while, it was my turn to dance. I made up a tap solo that was funky and fun. Of course I didn't have tap shoes, so I taped my can cutouts onto my shoes. They were simple old semi-circles of run that were cut out. Tap was always my favourite style. Mackenzie applauded me when I slid into my ending pose and I smiled at her. "Mackenzie, it's time to do our homework," I sigh. My eight year old sister nods at me and we trudge up the stairs to grab out bookbags. As my sister and I are incredibly close, we help each other on our homework. I help her on maths and she helps me on English. I am dyslexic. After half an hour of studying and homework, my mom calls us out for dinner. If you could even call it that. "Madison, Mackenzie, time for dinner!" The two of us tired girls slip into the kitchen from the living room and plop down at the kitchen table. Our usual meal of one slice of stale bread was placed in front of Mackenzie and I and we gobble it up gratefully. I don't know if I am still hungry or not, since I have gotten used to the feeling of hunger. That evening, when Mackenzie was fast asleep in bed, my mother called me in from the kitchen. I leave the kitchen and follow her soothing voice all the way to our basement. The basement isn't only used for dance. It is used for extra lessons too. Every evening, when Mackenzie wasn't around to see, my mother would school me in the basement, spending almost an hour on my reading skills. We got right down to work. "Madison, please read this sentence aloud." "The..." I take a deep breath before continuing, "cat...was under...the...table." I glanced up at my mom who was smiling madly at me. "Great job!" She handed me a penny and said, "Now you share that with your sister and after school tomorrow you can go to the bakery and get something nice." I wrap my arms around here and squeeze her tight. "Now, let's do the next sentence." The evening carried on like that and around nine o'clock I skipped up the stairs to bed. I am Madison Ziegler and I am twelve years old and this is my struggle.