It Is Charlie, To You, Sir.

Embarrassed

Chapter 3: Embarrassed

"You didn't buy a single dress I picked out for you," she whines as we walk through the front door of our house with our hands full with bags. I swear this woman is as stupid as a golden retriever, I mean they are a cute breed of dog but unless they were trained from birth, there is not a single chance for them.

"Because I don't wear floral prints or neon colours," I mumbled dragging my feet up to my room.

"What was that?" Mother dearest called from the kitchen.

"I am not the daughter you wished all your life for! I am just the little emo shit who you are embarrassed to be seen with!" I shout back and slammed my door shut before she could retaliate.

I find my way to my bed and collapse onto the bouncy mattress.

My mother, since she was Freddy's age, has always wanted a daughter to spend days off work/school to go shopping for pretty dresses and expensive manicures. For as long as I can remember she has tried to manipulate me to be that girlie-girl who always has her nails painted; never chipped. So, I think, I wear what I wear, and listen to the music I listen to just to spite her.

Don't get me wrong she is the perfect stay at home mother. She pushes so hard for perfect grades from all four of her children. It has payed off well for Nicholas. He is at University studying to be a vet. She is always onto of all the housework and whatever stay-at-home mothers do. I guess they have the time I guess.

My brothers, Nick, Harry and Freddy, are the ideal sons. They are handsome, polite, intelligent, grateful, obedient, and healthy. I swear those boys are either studying, helping out around the house, eating, or outside doing one of their several sports. The only thing mum absolutely hates about the boys is the early mornings for those game, matches, trainings, races, whatever they are playing.

I love sport just as much as the next person but I am more into the motor side to it all. Mum hates that even more because she is convinced that I am going to get myself killed one night at the drags. She also hates the fact that I stay in all day either on the internet or drawing some more tattoo designs. I am convinced she just hates me. I mean I am getting the grades, that is no problem, but it is my whole persona, how I don't mind walking out of the house without makeup or my hair perfectly curled in the newest dress from DJ's, that gets on her nerves. And maybe the fact I turn my music right up every time I put it on to piss her off and that I wear either band tees or black.

There is just no other choice.

I pulled out the sketch pad and pencils mum bought me just so I would stop shouting out "I hate it, Mum," in the middle of the mall. Not that she liked the idea because she really doesn't want to encourage my dream to be a tattoo artist. It is now a tradition in my family to go to University to study medicine. But do wanna know what I think about that?

Ass.

Just complete ass.

To prove how strong this tradition is; the family practice my Dad owns is quite literally a family practice. It has gone through 4 generations of the Jones family so far.

I sketch a human skeleton, hung up by a noose, with roses growing wild from the rib cage and finding its way out. When I was finished I found my water colours and added few floral colours to the piece of art to contain the dark elements of the drawing. Water colour tattoos have been my secret obsession this past week.

I tear the newly designed permanent drawing out of the sketch book and stick it on the wall above my bed with the rest of my designs. Another thing that infuriates my mother. She actually refuses to come in here which I don't mind because at least I know she won't come snooping through my room.

I step back from the largest wall in the room and admire the half of the wall which was covered in paper and dotted with few colours but mainly grey led varying from shade to shade and thickness to thickness.

Just as I was about to jump back into bed and snuggle up to my laptop and lolly stash, I hear a knock on my door. I am expecting my father to walk through the door and give me a lecture about how much they love me no matter what choice I make.

But a girl with long thick, wavy hair walks peeps her head around my door, smiling.

"Daisy!" I shout and run into her arms as she threw the rest of the door open. "I haven't seen you in ages!" I screeched before I kissed her cheek.

"I drove you home from school yesterday because you missed the train," she reminds me.

"Still too long," I giggle.