Another Brick in the Wall

Wish You Were Here

Before

My name is Amber Murdock.

I live in a small town in Arizona. Me and my parents live in a baby blue bungalow. Each street is peppered with pastel houses with matching cars and perfectly trimmed lawns. All this added to the air-headed, domestic and fake neighbours makes suburban life that bit more sickly. 

Each house is pretty much the same from the outside. Someone dressed their home with christmas lights and was disowned by the entire neighbourhood. They ended up moving out the town. We take our exterior design extremely seriously here. 

My parents are the best. My mum has greyish hair that falls down her back and looks like a waterfall. I have always been memorized by her hair. Both her and my dad's eyes are as green as emeralds. my dad had hair as red as the deserts of Arizona. They both work from home; my dad fixes old appliances in the garage and my mum bakes artisan cakes that are sold in the bakery. I once tried to help them with both but I almost set fire to the kitchen and the appliance was actually more broken than when I started fixing it. They are quite content with me sticking to my chores and my homework.  

Me and my parents know that the end of high school is our ticket to get the hell outta here, and it's only a matter of time. We have lived here since I was born, but the novelty and perfection have worn off. Our house is great though; we have transformed into our own haven. Each room is decorated with vivid and vibrant colours and furnished with bean bags and cushions. There are wind chimes and crystals that create the most beautiful melody. There are various windows dotted around in every room that allow the light to illuminate every surface and this brings the house alive. 

My parents were both hippies and they still have never really left the 70s. They have touched every part of the house with tie dyed and patterned material that encompass the entire spectrum. I have always loved their decor as it is a far cry from the manufactured, fake and dull tat that is found on the other side of the door. I prefer quirky. While everyone was asking for barbie dolls for their birthday, I asked for vinyl records and a theodora. 

We've never really fitted in here. We've never really cared. The major part about being different is not caring a) what is the ordinary? and b) what the ordinary think about us. No one really talks to us. They inside their friendship circles and never come near us. Our exciting and contemporary style scares them away. Their loss.

I have met some amazing people while living here who are now and shall forever remain my closest friends. Sapphire, who I sit next to in form, is an aspiring architect and has a job at the local hairdressers and practices her designs on people's hair. Neill,  who is the world's best procrastinator and the absolute best at making puns. Freda, who loves reading and playing the violin, but who also loves rock music and can play ACDC guitar solos on violin. Finally, Luke, who is dyslexic, but who loves to read comic books and hopes to one day design his own superhero.

Yeah. I hang around the type of person who either knows exactly what they want from life but has taken the longer route to get to it, or who doesn't have a clue and just continues living in the hope that they will find out one day. I have sort of both of those attitudes. I have no idea what I want from life but at the same time I know that I have a talent...talking. It's great. I was trying to learn my french script for an exam the next day and kept having the most intense migraines(which were like a minute atomic bomb going off in my brain). I think the headaches were due to the thunderstorm and the fact that there was a lot of lightening. Anyway, I woke up the next day panicking as I knew 0% of my script which sucked because I was terrible at winging things on the spot, especially french. So, when I sat down to do the exam I was literally demanding the ground to open up and swallow me whole or at least for one of my bones to spontaneously break. But then a miracle happened. I knew french. I wrote down every last thing that I needed for the test and finished within 23 minutes and 45 seconds. And I got full marks. 

So, basically, soon after that I was moved to a better french class with an incredibly nice teacher, Miss Asriel. She always checked if I was ok and that I felt safe. She told me to go to her if anythuing went wrong. She didn't look like a teacher. She was young; mid twenties I'd say. She had curly blonde hair and eyes that were as blue as the ocean. She always wore a leather jacket and boots and she always looked ready for battle. She was badass.

A few weeks later, on the eve of my 16th birthday, I started to feel that something was up. It was a strange nagging feeling. I could feel that things were starting to change.