A Girl's Lie

Intro

I've been writing for a while, but this is my first time actually letting people read what I'm writing. Please give me lots of feedback... Enjoy!

Monday, November 16, 1998

I'm Audrey Louise Adams, born to Michael Franklin Adams and Rachel Eleanor Adams. Alexander Clayton Adams is my younger brother, he is 8. Andrew Levi Adams is my older brother, he's 13. I am only 2 years older than Alex and 3 years younger than Andrew. We all get along pretty well.

I am kind of tall, almost towering over Andrew, despite the age difference. My gray eyes are what influenced the nickname "Drey", although nobody really calls me that anymore. My hair is a big mess of brown and black curls, falling all over my head. According to Mama I am the most beautiful girl she's ever seen. Aside from Mama, a lot of people call me pretty.

Andrew is about half of an inch taller than me. His hair is dark and curly, like the tail of a pig, so we all used to call him Curly Fry. He has really light brown eyes that fit perfectly with his personality. Andrew is every girl's dream, and every guy's envy.

Alex is a small little thing, his head barely making it to my shoulder. His hair isn't like ours, it just sticks to his head like Daddy's. Alex's eyes are as big as an owl's. There is a maze in them, trickles of green, specks of blue, dots of black, and squiggles of brown. Everyone we knew wanted eyes like Alex's.

We live in a fairly big house, there are four bedrooms, a family room, a kitchen, a dining room, a basement, which serves as a laundry room, an attic, and a shed out back. My room is okay, not too big, not too small. The walls are plain white with purple and pink paint splashed on them. My bed is a full size and bed sheets and cover have a paint splatter design. The floor is a shaggy carpet with spills in it, burn marks here and there, and the occasional hole. I don't have a T.V. in my room. The only T.V. in the house is in the family room because Daddy said so.

I woke up to Alex jumping on my bed while Andrew screamed at him to get ready for school. Daddy was already at work, and Mama was still sleeping. I got up, wondering what today has in store for me.

On the way to school Andrew made us stop at the Matthews' house to get his best friend. He knocked on the door and waited.

"Elaine!" a woman screamed, opening the door.

"Mornin' Mrs. Matthews," he said.

"Elaine, hurry on up or you'll be late," she screamed into the house. "She'll be out in a moment, won't y'all come on in. It's mighty chilly out here," she said gesturing us inside. We walked single file through the door, and into the family room. The house is very pretty on the inside, considering that Elaine's father had just been laid off. The walls are a beautiful beige color. They had a charming little fire in the fireplace, it made the house really warm. We squeezed onto the black loveseat, waiting for Elaine. Mr. Matthews stumbled into the family room with coffee in his hand, he still had his robe on and he looked like he was half asleep.

"Goodmornin'," he mumbled, plopping onto the other couch.

"'Mornin'," we said in unison.

"How's your mother," he asked, sipping from the steaming cup.

"She's ok. Her arm is still slung up and her eye ain't gone down," Andrew replied.

"Bye Dad. Come on let's go," Elaine said, rushing out of the house. We quickly followed after. Andrew was moving so fast that he almost tripped over Alex, everyone laughed.

"I freaking hate that woman," she said once we were a little ways from the house.

"Why," I asked her.

"None of your business, Audrey" she replied.

This is our morning routine; wake up, get ready, pick up Elaine, and head to school. Once at school, we all walked Alex to Mrs. Anderson's, for third grade. Then, Elaine and Andrew walked me to Mr. Johnson's, my fifth grade teacher. Finally, they walked to Mr. Williams' class, the eighth grade class.

Mr. Johnson is the worst teacher ever, I hated him. He always called home, for no reason. Today, I was trying my hardest to be good, because Daddy said that if I get one more bad report I would get a whopping. And trust me nobody gives a worse whopping than my father. I bet he could even win a whopping contest.