Fingerprints

1: Joshua Grant

Wednesday, 8 July 2015, 05:27

Today is my birthday. Mum and Dad are still asleep. I am sitting outside Dad's office, drawing a birthday cake and some balloons on the door. The cake does not have a name, but the writing on it is wobbly, kind of like the writing you are looking at now. Mum says my 'K's are wrong but they look more like birds when I write them. It reads "Happy Birthday Josh" and the balloons are all over the door. They are flying free, floating gently in the breeze. Mum is going to come out at exactly 06:03 because, although she claims to be completely cured, she still has a touch of her Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Dad will get out of bed approximately half an hour after Mum. He will complain about how early she gets up and how she disturbs his rest. However, on special occasions like birthdays, he will get up at the same time as Mum and try to surprise me. Unfortunately for him, he is not very sneaky and plus, I wake up far earlier than him.

I can hear Mum's alarm softly beeping in the distance. I have to get back to bed now and pretend to be sleeping for her sake.

Joshua put his pencil down and quietly shut the notepad, tucking it safely into the drawer on the right. He crawled back under the sheets and shut his eyes, imagining friends (all without names or faces) and family clustering around him, heartily singing a birthday song for him. There would be cake and presents and balloons and decorations, bought and set up specially for him. They would play games and laugh and marvel at his drawings on the glass and try to mimic his, but ultimately fail and still smile good-naturedly and compliment his fantastic abilities.

It was all very good, but Joshua knew somewhere deep in his mind that no one would love him enough to sacrifice their pride just to hang out with the "man-child". He had heard the names he had been called by his peers whispering and giggling to each other. Even now, strangers on the street would stare at him dressed in his weird power-rangers shirt and mismatching Ben-Ten shorts. They would laugh behind their hands and tell their friends about the strange guy who looked like a eight-year-old.

"Josh?" his mother poked her head around the door. She pushed it open and smiled. "Happy twenty-third birthday, darling."

Joshua sat up, pretending to stifle a yawn. "Good morning Mum. Where's Dad?"

She pointed to the open door of their bedroom. "He's still getting dressed. What do you want for breakfast today? Bacon and potato wedges with a sunny-side up egg and a glass of OJ?" Joshua nodded as his mother bustled off to the kitchen to prepare his meal. He dangled his legs over the edge of the bed. Stepping out on to the bare wooden planks of the floor, he flung open his wardrobe and quickly scanned its contents, looking for his outfit of the day. A plain white t-shirt caught his attention. It was bright and new with the price tag still stuck onto its sleeve. Joshua pulled it over his head and gazed at his reflection in the full-length mirror. He looked more mature, and seemed to be taller and stronger.

"Hey buddy," his Dad walked in, grinning at him. "Wow, new shirt? You look older and handsomer. Is there some girl I don't know about?" Joshua shook his head, rolling his blue-grey eyes. "Happy birthday, kiddo," his father beamed, ruffling his hair.

A delicious smell of bacon wafted over to them causing the father to immediately perk up. They went to the kitchen, drooling as the bacon sizzled on the pan.

Joshua's POV

Mum slid the bacon and eggs onto my plate, winking at me. She then helped Dad to his portion of pancakes and a generous helping of maple syrup. As usual, Dad exchanged a pancake for a rash of bacon with me and wolfed it down before Mum turned around.

"Well, today your father is going to call in sick for work so we can all go out on a family outing!" Mum exclaimed, deftly nabbing a bite of pancake drenched in golden syrup. Dad uncomfortably shifted in his seat.

"Sweetheart, I can't miss work today," he finally said, bracing himself. His wife stared at him, disappointment clear in her grey-blue eyes.

"I thought you would-"

"I know honey, but I really can't. My boss is setting up a promotion for me and it'll bring in some more money. You know we need it, Claire."

Mum looked sharply at him. Her gaze softened as she remembered that I was literally right next to them. She took a deep breath and smiled. I wordlessly picked up his fork, stabbing a potato wedge. He chewed, yet again thinking of his "celebration". He added in a girl. Blonde? No, a brunette. What about her eyes? Green, perhaps. Maybe emerald.

She would be his girlfriend - or better still, fiancé. A... I hesitated. A bubbly personality, the type you see in movies? That will do for now. My hands traced shapes on the underside of the table. I envisioned her walking over to me and smiling sweetly before softly pecking me on the cheek.

My heart very nearly stopped.

Just outside the window was a girl with dark, chestnut-brown hair and emerald eyes, but she was anything but bubbly. She glared at her smartphone, viciously tapping on it. She glowered down a little kid who got in her way with such ferocity that he quickly scrambled away.

The girl looked up at saw me staring at her. She narrowed her eyes and scowled, mouthing an obscenity at me. I was taken aback. I quickly got rid of the fiancé and replaced her with my second cousin, Erin.

Ducking my head, I shovelled forkfuls of bacon, eggs and potato wedges into my mouth, cheeks burning. I could still feel her gaze on me.

I glanced up, half afraid that she would storm over and punch through the window or something. The girl stared back, and something flickered in her eyes. She turned away and stalked off, leaving me dazed and confused.

Her name was London Rayne.

A/N: there you go! but I still feel like I used too many "mum"s and "dad"s