Fearless Beings

Chapter 1

Mia's POV
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Supposedly—according to the calendar hanging above my dress mirror—tomorrow is the biggest day of my life.

And it is. Thanks to my loving mother, I never lost count when I crossed down the days left, seeing as she never stops reminding me.

"Morning, Mia. Ninety-two days left, honey!"

"Afternoon, Mia. Sixty-one days left!"

"Evening, Mia. Thirty days left, dear!"

"Night, Mia. One week left, love!"

You get the point. Or at least, I hope you do, since I am sure no one's mother is as enthusiastic as mine about something so life-altering.

Okay, so maybe I am exaggerating about the "life-altering" part, but I have always had that inkling feeling that I would fail and disappointment my parents. Well, my mum. Since my dad could not care less about his only child.

Being an only child has its pros and cons, the latter more. Pros: 1) I was never expected to share my stuff (except when the neighbors came over). 2) In my elementary years, I have always been a spoilt brat, since my parents did not have anyone else to spend their money on, I still am. 3) I never had to live through the whole sibling-comparison. As for the cones: 1) My mum's attention is always solely directed on me, it is like her life revolves around me. 2) High expectations fell upon my shoulder, seeing as my father expected I would be taking the company after him, following his steps (something I definitely do not want to do, but it is not like I have a choice in the matter.) Anyway, the list continues.

The alarm on my bedside table goes off, provoking me to throw it against the wall. This alarm has ruined one too many mornings. I rolled my eyes and swung my legs over the side of the bed, then dragged my feet to the bathroom, quite literally.

I groan at my tangled hair in the bathroom's mirror. There is no way I can drag a comb through it, I would just end up pulling my hair out my skull. Ignoring the knots, I trudge downstairs to the kitchen, where my mum was humming quietly to herself as she flipped pancakes.

She turned around upon hearing my footsteps and grinned, her smile brightening the house. "Morning, honey!"

I kept waiting for the part I was expecting, but it never came. "Okay, Mommy. What is it?"

"Huh?" she turned around and whisked more pancakes.

"If you wanted to say—"

"Tomorrow is the big day!" she giggled, unable to contain herself anymore. See what I am talking about?

"Yeah, I know that," my reply comes out curt, perhaps ruder that I had originally intended. It just gets tiring after a while.

My mum, oblivious to my manners, continues, "I can't believe my baby girl all grown up! You'll do just fine."

"It's been almost sixteen years, Mommy. And yes, I hope I don't mess up." I sit on the kitchen table after she plants a plate piled with pancakes and chocolate syrup in front of me.

I wince and push the plate away.

"What? No breakfast?" she asks, her eyebrows drawing together and her lips forming a small, confused pout. My mum is really young, a thirty-four-year-old woman with a sixteen-year-old kid. My father rushed her into a marriage in the early age of eighteen, which explains everything.

"Pancakes? Really?"

She tilts her head to the side, her nice side completely gone now. Instead, she is scowling at me. "You can hit the gym afterwards."