My New Room-Mate

"It has just been confirmed that the Indian submarine, 90965, has been accidentally sunk just a few hours ago along the East-Coast of Mexico. Thought to have been hit by a test missile, shot from a nearby Marine Station, the current status of the 49 men on board is not yet clear. Bob, what more have you got to tell us?"

"Well, Mariane, it has become clear that the shooting of the submarine was indeed an accident, however the question of why Indian ships have been appearing so close to Mexican shores still remains a mystery. Suspicions of nearby Fort Control Soldiers has risen, but there is not yet any proof..."

I rolled my eyes and lazily flicked off the TV, slumping lower in my seat. Two Indian submarines had been spotted nearing Mexico recently - only one had been 'accidentally' hit.

Everyone was making a huge deal out of it, claiming that India was trying to attack Mexico and the US. Ian, my step-dad, thought that they were communists trying to take over the world.

I couldn't really give a damn. I had two assignments due tomorrow and I hadn't started either of them.

"Hey Chlora, Mum wants to know what you're doing!" Evie, the youngest of my half-sisters, called up the stairs leading to my room. I'd managed to convince - or force, I guess - my parents into letting me have the attic as my room. It was cramped and freezing sometimes, but private. And dark.

"I'm thinking of excuses," I shouted back at her.

There was a slight pause, before she replied, "Excuses for what?"

"Not doing my homework, you twat. What else would I need an excuse for?"

"I don't know," she replied, just as snarkily. "Why don't you just do the work?"

"Why don't you just grow a beard?"

"What? What does that even mean?" Evie scoffed, clomping up the stairs until her head appeared at the entrance to the attic. She was dark-haired like me, but skinny as a rake and freckly. Her chest was basically concave.

"It means get the hell out of my room before I cut off your head and hang it as a warning for everyone else who thinks about coming in here," I snapped back, sitting up straighter. Evie's dark eyes narrowed at me before she sneered.

"Fine, but have fun explaining to Mum why you're failing your classes."

"Fine, you have fun explaining to Mum why you're not a virgin anymore."

"W-what?" Evie shrieked, her mouth gaping open. I cringed at the sound. For a thirteen year old, she sure had a pair of lungs. Her voice hushed down as she leaned forward, eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't know what you're talking about, but don't ever say anything like that in front of Mum."

"Oh, so you and Julius didn't have sex, then?" My eyebrows rose. "That's not what it sounded like when I walked past your room the other day."

"We didn't! We were just messing around and playing games!" She protested, eyes widening indignantly.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Games."

"Oh my gosh," she snapped. "We didn't have sex, I'm still a virgin and you're still a - you're still a weirdo! I'll tell Mum you're doing homework if you keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"Do whatever you want, I'm not promising you anything," I shrugged, slumping back down on my bed and picking up the history book next to me. Evie let out a little huff of irritation before clomping back down the stairs, muttering angrily under her breath.

"Brat," I scoffed, my eyes skimming over the page of the book I was reading. It was about Pearl Harbour and couldn't be more boring - I wasn't even sure why I was reading it, it had nothing to do with what we were doing at school at the moment.

"Chlora!" Ian's voice shouted from downstairs. I slapped the book down onto my bed angrily. Could I not get any peace and quiet?

"For God's sake, what!?" I yelled back.

"Don't talk back to me like that!"

"Oh gee, I'm so sorry, Dad."

"Chlora, if you don't drop that attitude, you won't be getting any dinner," Ian warned with a yell.

"Shucks for me then," I muttered, picking the book back up and flipping it open again. 

"Your mother wants to talk to you," he started again.

"Good for her," I replied back nonchalantly.

"It's about the cemetery," he said smugly. We both knew he'd just won. I scrunched up my face before sitting up and getting off the bed.

"Fine," I grumbled, dropping the book and kicking on some shoes. "Where is she?"

"Kitchen," Ian replied, a smirk in his tone. Asshole.

                                                                               *              *              *

Twenty minutes later and I was sitting grumpily at the dinner table, still wearing nothing but a dark hoodie and pajama shorts, ignoring the swarm of chatter around me. Mum had invited the Bultumpers over - without telling me first.

"Chlora?" Ian's voice pierced into my solitude as a foot kicked the leg of my chair, jerking me slightly. I looked up, quickly glancing around the table before turning on Ian and Mr. Bultumper who were both watching me expectantly.

"What?" 

Ian repressed an eyeroll and repeated a question he'd obviously asked me before. "How's school going?"

"Oh," I shrugged mildly. I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of chicken, bringing it up to my mouth and shoving it in whole. It took a minute to chew down, Ian watching me with a weary expression as I went. "It's alright, I guess."

"Only alright?" Mr. Bultumper asked, titling his head. He was a teacher at the local private school and seemed to think he was both a headmaster and a councillor. He was neither.

"Yeah. The workload sucks and everyone is a dick, but I guess it's giving me an education and that is the most important thing in life, right?" I smiled, semi-mockingly.

Mr. Bultumper looked surprised before he nodded. "It is, indeed."

"Well then, there you go."

"Oh, Chlora, David says hi," Mrs. Bultumper said, smiling at me. I raised my brows. David was their eighteen year old son who gave up trying to be my friend after about two minutes of trying. I doubt he'd have said hi.

"Cool," I nodded nonetheless, going back to my dinner.

"He's going on exchange to Mexico in a few weeks, did we tell you?" Mrs. Bultumper persisted, looking around the table. "For a cultural extension program."

"Wow, that's fantastic! How did h- " Mum began to exclaim before Ian cut her off with a shocked look on his face.

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Bultumper frowned, looking at his friend. Ian's face was one of disbelief.

"You're just going to send your son off to a country that is being invaded by communists as we speak?"