A Letter To You

Life

The song Love Yourself By Ed Sheeran blasted through my bedroom. I picked my Maths textbook up from on top of me and hurried over to my phone. I had just got back from school about half an hour ago since I had detention. Ms. Roberts was right; nobody was there, besides me, of course. I tried sneaking out, but they caught me tiptoeing like a burglar. What could be more obvious ?
"Hey Emily, what's up?" I said in the phone.
"Olivia!" She screeched, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear.
"Uh...Yeah?" I said skeptically
"It's Friday!"
"Your point?"
"It's Friday which means The Start Of The Year Party is tonight. We have to go !" She exclaimed.
Oh, hell no. There was no way I was going to some party with a bunch of sweaty teenagers and alcohol everywhere. Besides, I had to work.
"I can't go," I told her. "I have to work."
"Oh, come on! You always have to work! Why don't you just call in sick? I need a best friend!" I could practically hear the pout in her voice. As much as I'd like to call in sick and not have to go work, I couldn't. We needed the money.

"Look, Emily. I'm sorry , but I can't go, okay? And you still have Tyler. Honestly, why do you even want me to go? I don't really feel like being a third wheel." Tyler was Emily's boyfriend. They've been together for about a year now. They're 'deeply in love' which is why I hate being around them. It's nasty. Seriously, just being in the same room with both of them will traumatise you for life and leave you with a series of nightmares in which you will never be free of.
"What? " That's not true. You're never a third wheel," she protested.
"Hmm, okay, whatever." I said. "But I'm still not going to the party."
She sighed. "Fine. See you Monday?"
"Yeah. Bye. Have fun qt the party."
"Will do. See ya," she said. The line went dead. I closed my phone and walked back over to my bed. I grabbed my Calculus book and continued with the questions.
Okay derivatives, bring it on.
––––––-––––––––––––––––––––"Will! I'm going to work," I called down the hall to my brother. I pulled my light brown hair back into a high ponytail and glanced down at my outfit. I wore black jeans with a white collared t-shirt. I pinned my white name tag onto the front of my shirt. I looked at myself in the mirror checking my makeup. Ready.

"Okay," my brother called back. I grabbed my apron and walked out into our large living room. My brother was sat at the table on his IPad flicking through Facebook. Probably looking for friends. I looked at him. His light blonde was tousled and his eyebrows were furrowed in derp concentration. With his high cheekbones, tanned skin and his cool amber eyes, most people would say he was a handsome lad. Not to mention his long eyelashes that any girl would envy. I look nothing like my brother. I had got most of my looks from our mom and Will got most if his looks from our Dad. But it's disgusting to see every girl swooning over Will and him not even give them a spare glance. My brother doesn't really have time for girls, nor does he care. The only girl he really cares about is me. But I'm his sister. He's a twenty-two years old and most of his worries are on me and and his Xbox. I think a girlfriend would do him some good, maybe he'd be happier.

He glanced up at me. "You need a drive?"
"Nah, I think I'll walk," I told him, grabbing my coat.
"Okay be careful. I'm going out tonight, so I probably won't be back till late," my brother said.
"Street fighting?" I asked him even though I already knew the answer.

He sighed and placed the Ipad down besides him. "Olivia, you know the order for us to pay the bills I have to street fight. But I'm looking for another job and it won't be long until I can stop street fighting," he said softly.
"But what if you get hurt?" I peeked up at him through my eyelashes. Okay, that was a stupid question. Of course he'll get hurt. He's physically challenging someone!
"I won't, Olivia. Don't worry," he reassured me. My brother was a pretty good fighter. I had lots of faith in him. Usually he would come back with a few bruises and a bloody nose, nothing too serious, but with our parents gone, you can't help but worry.
"Okay," I said, still not fully believing his words. And I think he sensed that because he stood up and opened his arms. "Come here," he said.
I walked into his outstretched arms and buried my face into his chest. I breathed in his scent. The strong smell of aftershave filled my nostrils. "Be careful," I whispered.
"I will," he mumbled into my hair.
I broke away from his grasp and turned around. "Bye. Love you too," he called back. I opened the door and stepped outside into the cool breeze.
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