Yesterday was one of the sleepless nights; and after tossing and turning in bed for an hour or two, I give up on any hope of catching sleep and decide to spend it doing some studies. We had already received our books, and since school reopens tomorrow, I decided I might as well have a head start. In spite of everything I do, I always took studies seriously, for eventually, that’s the one thing that’ll take me places.
So, the next morning, at the crack of dawn, when my parents’ car rolls into the driveway, I’m awake and kicking. However, I don’t want to deal with them any time soon, so I put my books away, lie down on the bed, cover my head with a duvet and pretend to be asleep.
Eventually, I’m not sure how long; I get out of bed and decide to shower. Stalling option #1. I step into the shower and try to release some of the built up tension in my muscles. The practically scalding water takes my mind off the impending doom of a day I have to face. I step out of the shower and step into my room, making sure the curtains are drawn this time. I take my own jolly time to dress up, paying attention to every single detail. I wear a navy blue dress that reaches just above my knee and has half-sleeves. I wear a beautiful pearl choker to accompany it. I complete the attire off by wearing a metal bracelet on my left hand and matching ear-rings. My mother expects me to be prim and proper; perfect, if you will. Keeping that in mind, I immaculately apply make-up; not too much, not too less.
After I’m done, I stare at the mirror for a few minutes and gather myself. Fear and loathe that I’m feeling is threatening to spill over, but I swallow it down. Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for the day and step out of my room and head to the dining room for breakfast. All other days, breakfast is eaten on the kitchen counter, cracking jokes with Jayce and pulling Gail’s leg. On the other hand, every Sunday, we eat breakfast at the table in a tense atmosphere, speaking is allowed only between bites; after swallowing, at that. The meal would be spent feigning interest in whatever new field of interest my parents wanted to exploit. You see why I dread Sundays?
As I step into the dining room , I see my parents sitting on either sides of the table; waiting for Jayce and I to enter. I go and take a seat, making sure to make absolutely no sound while at it. I don’t need to give my mother any further reason to pick on me. Just as I settle down, Jayce comes in, and sits at the table right opposite me. He is wearing a formal shirt and trousers. He looks unfamiliar in them.
My father picks his spoon and fork and cuts into his omelet, signaling us to begin our breakfast. The silence looms over us, almost concrete. I try not to fidget or cough or say anything to distress the silence, but I end up clanking my spoon against the plate, and a piercing clatter; amplified by the silence; causes my parents to look up and glare at me.
“Avery, darling, how many times do I have to tell you that you must never make sounds with the cutlery while eating. If there were company now, they would think you had been brought up in a pig sty, and not a mansion.” my mother says in her sickly sweet voice, which has an undertone of contempt.
Well, there isn’t any company; and there almost never is! This is not one of your business meetings, where how I handle my cutlery determines my smartness. I want to scream, but I resist the urge. “Yes, mother. I’m sorry, mother” I say, instead.
My father just shakes his head and goes back to eating. Typical Ryan Cooper. Won’t stand up for himself, or for anyone else. I return to eating when I feel something nudge my leg. I look up and see Jayce giving me a reassuring smile. I return it with a sad smile of my own. My parents never rebuke Jayce, they had me to reprimand already, and apparently they could take only one at a time. Also, Jayce had been in boarding school until he turned eleven. He had started at Presidency only last year, after he appealed to my granddad. They agreed only on the condition that I would take care of him. I was more than happy to comply. He was all I had, and I would do whatever it takes to keep him. Nobody, not even my parents could take him away from me.
YOU ARE READING
Between The Both Of Us
Teen Fiction"Between the both of us, I think I like you", he whispered in my ear. "Well, between the both of us, I think I do too", I respond, and for once, I feel free, of lies, of deception, of hate, of pain, of everything except the only feeling that is over...
