Surviving the Boys {Completed}

Chapter one

This whole book is just a draft version. When I am finished I will edit

 Please if you are enjoying this book could you please vote and comment with what you think. It seriously it isn't that hard but it means the world to me.

Death is something everyone comes to know at some point in their life. Lucky people don’t see it or know it until they come to an end of their own life.

I wasn’t one of those people.

Three weeks ago my mother and sister were killed in a bushfire. My father came home back to Australia for there funeral, but then left straight after. He was never a fan of mine; I wasn’t worried because the feeling was totally mutual. Every since I turned 13 he stop taking any notice of me. On my birthdays my mum would sign his name on the card and on Christmas she would give me a letter saying it was from him. Charlotte my sister was the favourite in the family, the goodie goodie. A girl with straight A’s and a perfect attendance record.

I on the other hand weren’t so perfect, I didn’t pass everything but I always tried my hardest. In the weekends I preferred to go out and spend time with my friends rather then stay home for family game night. Not that my family cared, they all hated my I wasn’t perfect enough for them. To be honest I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I tried to be better, I would stay up late and study hard. Spend hours trying to look as beautiful as my sister. With her curly blonde hair, flawless skin and crystal clear blues she was model material.

We looked nothing a like, instead of blonde hair I had long black hair that fell to my waist, tangled in a mess. My eyes were grey with green and blue speckles in them, hidden behind black glasses. All my life I remember wanting to get contacts but my mum said it wasn’t necessary, no one was looking at me so why should we waste the money.

That was how life always was until 2 weeks ago when my social worker called and said that an old family friend had offered to take me in and become my legal guardians as my father said he didn’t want anything to do with me.

Now here I was standing at the airport in Australia trying desperately to find these mysterious people.

Kent. Kent. Kent. I swept my gaze over all the people holding signs. After a few nerve racking moments of looking I finally spotted a couple holding a sign with Marley Kent written in bold writing. I took my suitcase and rolled it over to them.

“Marley my dear you look exactly like your mother,” the unfamiliar lady said squeezing me into a tight hug. I hadn’t been hugged for years and even though this lady was no more then a stranger to me, it felt good.

“Thankyou,” I told them as they started leading me towards the pick up zone. “Thankyou for everything Mr and Mrs Kingsley,”

‘Hush no need to thank us, your doing me a favour I’ve always wanted a daughter and now I finally have one.” The lady said wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “And call me Emma and you can call him Peter,”

I nodded and let them lead me towards what I presumed was their car. It was a black Mercedes and was probably five times as expensive as any car my family owned.