Avery Turner, a perfectionist with a double life, and Kyran Drake, a charismatic boy with secrets, find their fates intertwined when their secrets threaten to unravel their dreams-will they overcome their differences to protect their futures, or wil...
I woke up to the shrill alarm on my iPhone. The beeping could easily make me deaf one of these days. Android alarms are so much more pleasant. Groaning, I turned the alarm off and made my bed. Usually, I wouldn't bother making my bed, but new school year, and new habits.
I usually last one week with these new habits. They become non-existent afterward.
It was 5:30 a.m. Yes, I wake up at this time. It is an unwritten rule in this house for me, and me only. My sister gets to lie in until 7 because she's my sister. Eliza Turner is privileged.
My mother's voice could be heard from the hallway. "Hey! Are you up yet?"
No, that's why I'm opening the curtains and making my bed.
"Yes Mom!" I called out and I heard her footsteps retreat into her bedroom where she went back to sleep. I sighed and opened my wardrobe, which consisted only of clothes that my mother bought. She buys me clothes from sales for middle-aged women. It included a vile collection of yellows or greens, with jumpers that reached my thighs that I had to wear with loose joggers that were also chosen by my mother.
I would've had to die if I actually wore the clothes that my mom bought me. You could wonder, why don't you hide some clothes in your room? Well, did you really think I had privacy? My mom roots through my things. She looks through my phone and she knows the password. No, I can't say no to her because then I'd be homeless.
This is why I buy clothes and wear them underneath the hideous jumpers and dresses that are approved by my mom. I then, swiftly remove the layer on top once I reach the first crossroad near my house before anyone else I know sees me wearing such atrocities.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not the type of person to get offended by people remarking about me. I don't care what anybody thinks about me. It really doesn't affect me. I still want to look like a normal teenager though.
This morning, like every other, I grabbed a crop top and jeans (not ripped ones, my mom would never approve), along with a beige jumper dress that was at least two sizes bigger than me. I was startled by my alarm ringing again. Cursing to myself, I switched it off and got ready for my day.
It took me half an hour to get ready, and by 6, I went downstairs to grab some breakfast. My morning routine seems healthy, doesn't it? It is extremely healthy, except, it's also very sad. I don't get to lie in bed or have late nights. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have late-night sleepovers or sleep till noon.
I don't have that privilege, but my sister does.
Pouring some cereal into my bowl, I nearly tripped over the stool next to the dining table when I heard loud footsteps coming downstairs. I didn't even need to look around. It was my mom, wearing her lavender pajamas, her hands folded, with a grim expression that was frequently etched on her face. She usually has this face when she must deal with me.
