Pen Pals (EDITING,, READ DESCRIPTION)

Chapter 1

As soon as i got home from school I got straight to doing my chores; cleaning, doing washing up, laundry and cleaning out the front room of my mother's crap that'd been thrown about every where. I wasn't a fan of mess, not at all, however something i hated even more was my mothers cooking, so as well as completing my plethora of chores in record time, i also cooked us dinner and settled down to eat with her in front of some 'real house wives of...' show.

"How was school?" She asked all of a sudden, managing to change the mood from tense to tense and aggravated with her annoyed tone of voice and careless body language that you could read from a mile away.

And although i knew she would cut me off, just like she had done the night before, and the night before that, and- well. Since i was young, really, I still made the effort to be interesting, and the kind of daughter she may want somewhere in her heart."It was good, we're doing a really cool class project in school, it's about writing to an idol of ours and tryi-"

"Cool, make sure you put the rubbish bins out early tomorrow. It's Tuesday and I won't be home, I have to work." She said, cutting me off after having stuffed the last of her food in her mouth and putting her plate on the table. I had to admit, it hurt when she did things like that. And although in all honesty, she was a truly terrible parent whether single or not, a part of me still loved her, and would always, because she was my mum, and i would always have that bond with her, even if she seemed to have lost hers.

"I'm going out." She said, still with her careless body language and aggravated tone of voice, before I could continue with my speech. "Don't wait up, get your homework done and take the bus to school tomorrow. Lunch change is on the kitchen side." She said, leaving her plate on the small table in front of us for me to clear up as per usual, then walking over to her coat and shoes to proceed in putting them on, not in a hurry but quickly, as if she just wanted to get away from me. Which shined through the most when she left the house without even saying a simple 'goodbye' to me, but i was used to it, so it was okay.

"Okay..." I whispered to my self, not sure how i felt or exactly how i sounded as i watched the door slam in front of me, finishing my dinner in my own time, by myself, before putting the dirty plates and cutlery in the small dishwasher we had, getting the rubbish bag ready for taking out and heading to my room to do my homework.

I was always one for cleanliness, and even though I didn't have all that much in my room, I always made sure to keep it clean. It was one thing my mother never set as a chore, or cared about, but I still did it nonetheless. I walked over to my desk on the other side of my small, almost box like room, before dropping my school bag on the floor next to the old and worn desk and continuing to get my pen and some pukka pad lined paper out of a random class folder, ready to start my English assignment.

After a while of writing letters that eventually ended up in a scrunched up ball in my plastic bag for a bin, i decided to plan out what i wanted to say, figuring that it would be better not to wing it and instead to actually make sure my first letter to this stranger would be good. Then, after another while of planning and scribbling out various ideas that i didn't like, and topics that i sooner (rather than later) decided i didn't want to talk about.

••
Dear Tony Perry.

My name is Jodi potters, I'm from England and I am 13 years old, going into year 9 of my secondary school and turning 14 in the next few months.

I am writing to you on behalf of a class project I have been assigned to do. The instructions where to send a letter to an idol, famous or not, in their profession and see if they could reply, almost like a pen pal. I don't really see the point of this, or what the outcome will be now that I think about it, but it made my head perk up in decision to use this to my advantage. After all, if the school will help me send this and try, however they can, to get all the letters to the respective idols individually, then why shouldn't I try writing to you?

I'm not going to go full on with detail, because I'm skeptical as to whether you'll reply or even get this letter, in fact. But I'm hoping and praying nonetheless that you do.

I hope to see a letter from you in the post soon,
Yours sincerely, Jodi Potters.
••

I read over the letter a few times to make sure it's grammar was good and to my highest standard, as well as being well punctuated and that I hadn't made any silly spelling mistakes, before sealing it in an envelope with his name on the front. I had heard the teacher mention something about the school finding out where to send all of the letters and dealing with all of that, so I knew I didn't have to do anything else, but something in me wanted to do more for it and just send it now, because i was so excited to see the outcome.

After packing my school bag for the next day (nerdy, right?) i had a very  quick shower and put on some worn out, fabric shorts and a large t-shirt I'd managed to either find somewhere or accumulate at some point in my short life. I had also read some of a book for a while, one that I had read multiple times but still intrigued me very much. For a while, i wanted to stay up and see when my mother would come back, but i was getting tired, and i also wasn't keen on the idea of her being drunk because if i was awake she'd definitely have something to say about it.

My mother had always been one to not really give a toss about me, she would go out at night, party, and then come back drunk. It was her routine and had been for a while now. She had no sense of manners and I hoped I wasn't in the slightest like her because that would just be terrible for everyone i knew, and would know in the future, to handle. I suppose the fact that i was scared to being rude, and people hating me, could contribute to why i was such a loner. That and the fact that people seem to dislike me and pick on me for any reason they can find under the sun.

Soon enough though, after thinking about this daunting fact, I fell asleep in my small bed, underneath a cosy, but oddly thin duvet, praying that my letter would soon be in the hands of Tony Perry. My idol.