Sisters [book one]

Chapter Eleven

Dedicated to @TimeyWimeyWriter because we met at the London Wattpad Convention in December and she has an awesome dystopian book called Outcasts on her profile. You should check it out!

Chapter Eleven

There are only a few days a year where I will willingly wake-up early: my birthday and Christmas being two occasions. The only other time I can wake-up at seven o'clock without being cranky, is when it's snowed.

I wake up at six o'clock, half an hour before I usually do. My first act of the day is to see whether the weatherman's prediction is correct. I pull back the curtains and there's a white blanket of snow covering everything in sight. I already know school's off for the today.

My cell phone rings. It's Esmee.

"Have you seen the snow?" she says, not so much as a hello.

"Yeah!"

"You're coming out in it, right? You're not still grounded, are you?"

"Nope," I say.

"Great! Well I'm going back to bed. I'll meet you at my house at ten o'clock, yeah?"

"Yep."

I hang up and fall headfirst onto my pillow. I set my alarm and pull the covers over my head, falling back to sleep.

* *

I wake up again at nine and get ready to go to Esmee's. I head downstairs for breakfast and stick my head in the cupboards. I ponder whether to have Cheerios or Lucky Charms. "Where are you going?" Mom says from the sink. I realise she's meant to be at work.

The air's still icy from Tuesday.

"Out with Esmee to play in the snow," I say, deciding to go for Lucky Charms.

Mom crinkles her nose. To say she's developed a disliking for Esmee since the party would be an understatement, though she can hardly tell me who I can and can't hang out with. What Mom doesn't know - or does, which is why she's still letting me hang out with Esmee - is that I'll never let myself go to a party like that ever again. Not after what happened. Not even Esmee's puppy-dog eyes can persuade me. The thought of running into either Austin or his friends again makes me cringe.

I slide onto one of the barstools and eat. I catch Mom staring at me. Her expression has worry written all over it, which sends my stomach in a pile of knots. The fight two nights ago has left Mom worrying about me for the first time in months.

Ever since Michele wound up in the accident, Mom and Dad have had to worry about her too. Michele used to be the sibling they didn't need to worry about because Michele knew where she was headed in life. She may not have had an exact plan but they knew that she would never settle for anything less than what she wanted. Now, not only does Michele not know where's she headed but she doesn't even know where she came from.

"Where's Michele?" I say.

"In her bedroom."

Michele's barely stepped out of her room since she came home, becoming more anti-social than me.

I check the clock on my phone and say, "I'm heading off, I'll see you later."

"Will you be back for lunch?"

"I don't know," I say, putting my empty bowl beside the sink her to wash up. "Can I text you?"

"Sure."