Echo

Chapter One

Thump.

I landed on my wooden floor with a thunderous groan.

“Damn it,” I hissed, my face uncomfortably squished against the wooden floorboards, “Stupid bed.”

Raising my left and only free hand, I rummaged around for the reason behind my pain, the bed. Sliding it over the roughed edges I forcefully slammed my palm against it, letting out a tiny squeak as I did so. Okay, idiotic idea.

Ouch.

Glancing down, I let out another groan, as I realised I was cocooned in my light blue duvet, my left leg wrapped around my right leg in a tangled mess; it left me struggling to stand up. Seriously, how did this happen?

Again.

“What happen-” My mother’s worried voice changed to one of humour as she began to laugh. Belly laugh. Whipping my head towards my doorway I glared at her.

“Not funny!” I stated. “Help me.” I began to wriggle, unknown to the fact that this just seemed to spur her on as she began to walk towards me shaking her head, her dark brown locks flurrying side to side. And of course she was still laughing.

“You look like a worm.” She giggled. Oh god she did not just say that, anything but that.

“Mum!” I shrieked, raising my free hand in the air as a protest. She held her own hands up in surrender and grabbed at the duvet, giving it a sharp tug, I rolled away from her ramming into my wall. Again ouch, thanks mum.

“Sorry,” She apologised, sincere as she held out a hand to help me up. Rolling my eyes I latched on as she pulled me up and gave me a quick hug. “Breakfasts ready.” She stated as she began to walk back out into the hallway, but not before leaving me with a booming laugh.

Laugh.

No Rayne, stop thinking about that. You are normal, normal.

Shaking my head free of any ridiculous thoughts I rushed towards my double wardrobe and grabbed whatever my hand could find first, then quickly donned my, most probably, unmatched outfit. Rushing past my mirror I took a quick glance.

Great. I looked an absolute state.

My mouse hair was knotted, spiked in every direction, taking the term ‘defying gravity’ to a whole new level. Not the best start to a new term, especially your last term. Ramming my brush through my hair, my mind kept relaying last night.

It was that dream, I thought.

No Rayne, stop that.

Slapping my hands to my cheeks, I ran my shaking hand through my hair as I hailed my school bag and raced down the stairs. The final step squeaking under protest as I forcefully jumped of the end, landing with a huff as I veered left towards the kitchen.

Slamming my bag down on the counter I settled into the tall chair at the breakfast table as I observed my mother gliding back and forth between the cooker and the plates, which held a mighty high pile of pancakes. Blueberry pancakes, my favourite.

“Are you ready for your last term of school?” Mum asked as she skilfully placed the last pancake on top of the tottering tower. Gripping both plates in either hand she turned to give me a small smile as she placed the pile of goodness in front of me.

“I guess,” I let out with a shrug, “I can’t wait for it to be over.” I laughed. Grabbing at the bottle of syrup I watched intently as I squeezed the liquid gold onto my favourite breakfast. My mother’s laugh rang out in the background, clearly understanding my statement about the end of school. She understood my hatred for learning; neither of us was highly academic, both preferring a hands on subject rather than the workings of the universe.