Alone in Antarctica

Chapter 1

 The snow descends from the clouds towards the bustling manhattan street below. There was a nice calmness in the air . . . .

Gabriella's POV

"Gabriella Woods, You've slept till seven-o'clock! Wake up!"

And . . . . there goes the calmness.

No . . . I really don't want to go to school today. Why can't I just sleep? I start to drift back towards the pillows, eager to get back to the perfect, calm dream. But then my thoughts are interrupted by sudden jerk combined with a hard wooden bedroom floor flying towards my face. Ouch!

"Gabby, I told you to wake up!"

The angry voice leaves me with no chance of ever feeling the peace of calm again, at least today that is.

The maid Mary has been my unofficial adoptive mother since I was four; my mom (Kailee Woods) got divorced and decided work and my "genius" older brother were more important than her husband and daughter, while my dad decided to move and live his dream life in New Zealand. But hey, Mary takes care of me even though she's sixty five. At least somebody cares about me. Might as well be grateful.

"I'm up!" I yell in defeat.

"Good, now get dressed and there's bacon and eggs downstairs!" She hollers from halfway down the stairs. No need for silence in this family.Finally alone, I start to pick myself up.

"Ugh, where are some clothes? I mumble to myself.

Looking around my room that practically screams a-tornado-has-been-here! Needless to say, my room is pretty messy. The only part you can see the dark wood floor is around my aquamarine, bed and computer (I've fallen out of bed enough to know to shove everything at least three feet around my bed away.) My wall is covered with a plethora of posters with pictures of my favorite authors and animals (All posters of cat) My closet is a war zone entirely devoted to clothes, socks, accessories, and hangers all piled on the floor. I've never really seen the whole point of cleaning. I mean, it's just going to get messy again, right? Yet there is an exception to this mental rule; my bookshelf and chest.

These two things are the only cleanish objects in my room, but both are in the corner by my door, so no one notices them. My bookshelf is overflowing with literature (novels, magazines, even a few cookbooks). Even though I've read them all three times, my stepmom, dad, grandparents, brother, and my mom (I hate her so much) refuse to buy me new ones or even drive me to the bookstore! They always say the same things:

"Books? Why books? What kind of kid are you?" is my mom's personal favorite.

Or the classic . . . .

"Use the interweb or internet or whatever it's called!" Yeah, definitely not your average parents.

Oh, and my brother's favorite . . . .

"Gabriella, even if you read all the books in the world you'll never be as smart as me, so don't bother."

Brandon is only 16 and attends NYC, so I guess he has bragging rights, but still . . .

And then there's my trunk. It's full of my animal-related stuff, like collars, leashes, treats, cat food, flea-repellents, and all the money I have (Not much, mind you). I wish the cash could be used for books, but as I said, not-your-average parents. Their more of the weird type of parents. So instead, I donate these things to the animal shelter downtown. My parents don't really approve of this either, but Mary does take me sometimes.

I walk to my bathroom, leaving the mountain of blankets and sheets on the floor behind me. "Meowwww!, Hiss!" A black streak of fur rushes under my clumsy feet. I trip, and for the second time this morning, my head rushes towards the floor (white tile this time; apparently wood is just not hard enough). Crap. What was that? I turn my head towards the purple laundry bin where an expectant pair of golden eyes stare at me. Oh. I should have guessed. My cat.