Bad Boy Encounters

Ch 1 - Blueberry breakfasts & Badboy encounters

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Being woken up by your five year old brother and a puppy seems like a fun idea.

Until that fun idea is sat directly on your spine and crushing the air out of your lungs at 7 in the morning.

"Thomas for the love of all things holy, please get off me I can't breathe," I wheezed face down into my pillow.

"Charlie, Charlie, Charlie you have to wake up and go to school," He chanted obnoxiously whilst rocking back and forth crushing every bone in my spine, all whilst his accomplice played tug of war with my new comforter.
Both oblivious to me fighting for my life underneath them.

After what felt like hours of torture I reached  behind me and pushed Thomas off my back sending his crashing into the mound pillows beside me.  Before leaning over and placing the biggest and sloppiest kiss on his cheek, making sure to mash my face against his for good measure.

"Eww Charlie no, girl cooties! I have to wash my face again now!" He whined before falling off my bed and running as fast as his little legs could carry him to the bathroom, tripping a few times as he went.

I laughed as Bobby, who had grown bored of tearing into my blankets, chased after Thomas, no doubt thinking it was some kind of game.
Naming him Bobby was a hundred and ten percent all my brother, he's named after Bobby Darin, obviously. I mean what other 50s singer could a five year old possibly name a corgi after?

Now wide awake, albeit against my will,  I trudged into my en-suite and reluctantly got ready for my day. Whoever decided everything in life had to start so early in the morning was an asshole frankly.
After my shower routine, I quickly put on the first pair of jeans I could find and pulled a random sweater over a t-shirt before grabbing my backpack and making my way out of my room.

I made my way down the hallway, almost slipping not once, but twice on the freshly polished hardwood floors. Thank god for handrails. Now whoever invented those deserves a medal. Starting this day off with a trip to the ER didn't seem fun. Well actually if my choices are high school or going to the ER, the latter is really tempting.

"Charlie!" My mum called out, before appearing suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, paperwork in hand and her glasses perched gently on her small sharp nose.
Her brows furrowed.

"Charlie I know you've perfected the 'I don't care' look, but running a brush through your hair won't kill you," she tutted as she walked back into the kitchen, her heels clacking against the floors, "Come on, breakfast is ready"

I rolled my eyes and followed her in, only to be greeted by my brother doing what could only be described as massacring a plate of blueberry pancakes.

"Morning Char Char," Thomas managed to say with his mouth full, I grimaced as a few pieces flew out of his mouth and onto my dad's newspaper. Laughing as he gagged and the sight and frantically brushed them away with his handkerchief.

"What happened to your hair?" My Dad asked once he'd managed to pry his eyes away from whatever headline he was engrossed in.

"Why is everyone commenting on my hair today?!" I exclaimed flopping down on the island chair next to him.

"No, there's nothing wrong with it, it's just, you know... messy," he laughed, playfully fluffing the mess atop my head. I glared at him before attempting to fix the thick black hair he had cursed me with, and somewhat frame it around my face.

"Here you go Charlie," Philippe beamed as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of me "For the record I like the hair, it's fun!" He winked.

Philippe had been with us for as long as I could remember, my parents can do a lot of things, but they cannot under any circumstances cook.  After what my Dad calls our families "Christmas D-day" landed almost all our extended family in the ER with salmonella poising, my parents has been banned from touching anything in the kitchen ever since. They hired Philippe part time just so we didn't all starve or permanently live off microwave meals.