I am Daria [18+]

one

Breathe, Daria, I reminded myself.

My lips clamped shut in concentration and my eyes squinted as I focused my sights on the objects caught in midair.

_You can do this, sweetheart. Just focus_ my father's voice suddenly appeared in my mind.

I didn't look at him or give them any indication that I had heard him, otherwise I'd fail. I need to concentrate. As the bowls and kitchen utensils traveled through the air, I heard my brother's voice whine about being hungry. My father shushed him and then it was silent again.

In a split second, my arms shot in the air and everyone had a bowl and spoon in front of them. A moment later a heap of spaghetti fell in the bowls and water appeared in the glasses.

I smirked when I looked at my brother's face. His startled expression turned sour and he glared at me, his hazel eyes turning slightly gold.

"What?" I asked innocently. "You said you were hungry," I stated and shrugged.

My father, who was seated at the head of the table, began to chuckle.

"Dad, why are you laughing? Did you see what she did?" Matthias threw another icy glance at me. "She did it on purpose," he pouted, like the baby he was.

"Well, you did complain that you are hungry, pup. You should be thanking your sister," my father contemplated, seemingly amused.

My brother huffed and reluctantly mumbled a "thank you, Dari," before digging into his bowl of pasta.

I nodded, satisfied with myself and twirled spaghetti around my fork. Halfway through dinner, I heard the clicking shoes approaching us coming from the hallway.

"Ah, darling, " my father stood up to meet his wife and mate halfway, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. "Is he asleep?" he asked, referring to my other baby brother, Lauden.

"Yes, thank goodness," she laughed, walking towards the table. "I think out of all of my children, he's attached to me the most," she said, her eyes full of love.

"Well, honey, he is only eleven months old, he only knows his mama," my father told her, sliding out her chair, waiting for her to sit down.

"They're turning a year next month," my mum reminded him.

"Yes, I know," he chuckled.

Mom kissed Matthias' head before sliding in next to him and smiled affectionately at me. For a thirty-five year old who've birthed three children, she was still as slender and as beautiful as a human twenty-year old.

We ate in silence for a few minutes before Mum spoke again.

"Dari, how did practise go today?"

I heaved a sigh, "Witch practise? Excellent," I grinned, shooting a glance at Matthias, who snorted, "but cheer practise? An absolute disaster," I groaned, remembering the sour looks I had gotten from some of the girls.

"How come?" Mum asked, concerned.

"I think they hate me," I said, sighing again, and took a sip of water.

"What? Why are you saying that?"

I chewed my lip. That was a good question. I hadn't done anything to offend anyone. People in my pack say I'm the nicest person they know!

"I don't know," I finally said. "I don't know what I did. I do everything I am asked to do, I get every back flip, cart wheel, somersault and handstand right. Then, we get a five minute break and when we resume, they glare and snarl at me! I swear humans are so complicated," I huffed and leaned back in my seat.