Behind the Fake Smile *completed*

Behind the Fake Smile Cp11

I sat slumped in the black, fabric sofa and watched TV with my dad as he channel surfed. Monday night and I don't think that I've been this bored in so long. John and Lizzie were in their rooms; well John was in his and Lizzie and I shared a room. The sofa that I was sitting on was a circle shape and could spin so, I spun slowly on the sofa thinking about the weekend that past way too quickly, Michael and I have become really close. It was amazing, I don't think that I've ever had such fun.

The only thing I regret is not seeing the sunrise on the first night, I passed out just before it happened and Michael didn't wake me up. He said that "he would have felt bad if I deprived you of sleep, anyways if I really did want to see it then I shouldn't have fallen asleep last minute."

John and Lizzie had enjoyed it as well, I knew this because they still haven't stopped talking about it. I sighed and stood up and walked to mine and Lizzie's bedroom. I opened the door and Lizzie looked up and watched me as I sat crossed legged on my bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Reading a magazine," she didn't look up from the glossy pages filled with absolute nonsense.

She loved her magasines and I loved my novels. I read almost any book that caught my fancy and so far, I have only given up on one book because it didn't make sense to me. I liked reading action or fantasy books, not the sappy teenager one's. Anyone could write those and the ending is always the same the girl goes out with a guy but then her so-called-best-guy-friend gets jealous and then the main character realises that the best friend is head over heels in love with her.

It's so cliche and predictable but books like the Da Vinci Code; Angel's and Demons; the Alex Rider sequels make you want to read more and more because you don't know the ending and when you think you figured out the bad person or what's going to happen at the end, there's always something that changes your mind.

I lay on my bed, my head resting on my arms, and I gazed at the ceiling which was white but looked yellow because of the light and the pathetic lampshade to decorate the nude bulb. The walls were a pasty, worn out yellow which was decorated with a few drawings of mine.

The conservatory door had sickly green curtains which were definitely out of date, our room didn't even have a window! Instead, we had a door which lead to the back conservatory which would probably have spiders because no one goes in there since it's either really hot so that when you do go in and then leave the conservatory, you can see dots, or freezing where you can't help but shiver- even if you went in for only a few moments.

Two identical blue flimsy, fabric wardrobes stood next to each other, one containing my clothes and shoes and the other containing Lizzie's clothes and shoes although we shared when we wanted to. The wardrobe was about one and a half feet in width and about three to four feet in length. A long thin mirror was hung next to the door and combs and accessories were on a small glass table.

Our room needed major decorating but at least it provided us somewhere to sleep and at least we have our own beds. People in Africa and third world countries have to share a bed with about seven of them! They didn't have mattresses either! I don't know what they slept on but it didn't look particularly comfortable. I saw a documentary of it a couple of months ago for Comic Relief and it changed how I viewed things a lot. I started to count my blessings and thank God that He had given me a roof over my head.

I lay on my bed and looked at the ceiling, daydreaming. My phone buzzed arrogantlyy on my bedside table, I turned my head and saw it having some sort of seizure on my table with each buzz. Reluctantly, I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. I didn't really want to talk at the moment but it would give me something to do.