Broken Walls [COMPLETED]

Chapter One

I jumped onto my twin brother's back and slammed him to the ground. "Ha! Gotcha!" I shouted in his ear, sitting on his chest, and snatching my phone from his hand. "Get off of me you fat lard!" He protested struggling to get free. "Wow! That's pretty low, Cam." He snatches the phone back from me and shoves me off of him, picking me up over his shoulder. I grabbed onto his hips and flipped off of him landing roughly on the ground. After I recovered my balance, I made a mad dash to the kitchen where my mom was cooking breakfast. Protecting myself by jumping behind her catching my breath as Cameron raced in after me. "Don't touch me, Cam!" I panted. "Mom's right here."

He gave me a teasingly evil look and walked slowly towards me. "No playing in the kitchen!" My mom reminded us, just before my brother could get a hold of me, then she left my side, nonchalantly and made her way calmly to the hot stove. Just as my mom turned around, my brother was about to pounce on me when the phone rang. "I'll get it!" Cam and I yelled in unison, which caused us to argue over who got to answer the phone. My mom sighed softly and went to pick up the phone. "Hello?" She spoke into the phone.

My brother and I laughed hysterically at our immaturity and the fact that our mother was wearing her apron backwards. He forfeited the battle and handed me my phone, then jumped onto the couch, switching the TV on. I went back upstairs to my room and slammed the door, making sure to lock it due to my annoying brother's tendency to barge in. I sat on my bed and flipped through my phone peacefully. Ah, yes the first day of summer vacation was today and due to my family's lack of preparing, we were stuck in the boring little town called Rockford. I've lived here ever since I was a baby but I still can't stand the place or the people in it.

My mom called for me, "Carmen! Cameron! Your father has something important to tell us!" I quickly busted out of my room and flew down the stair case, somehow beating my brother to the kitchen. My mom put the phone on speaker as soon as lazy Cameron walked into the room. "Hey kids!" My dad spoke. I couldn't wait to see my dad again. "Hey Dad! How's work going?" I asked. For a year and half now, my father has been on an important research project for the company he works at. If he does a good job on it, then he might get a pretty serious promotion. "Actually Carm, that's what I wanted to talk to you guys about. The project will be ending this August and the boss says that so far I've had a great performance on the project and I'm very useful. tomorrow will be my next evaluation, which we have weekly to see how we are doing. He said that he will be paying very close attention to my score, but if this score looks good I will have a pretty great shot at this promotion." My dad said. 'That's great Dad!" My brother said now paying attention to the conversation. "Well good luck!" I chimed in. My father thanked me just before my mom took the phone off speaker and began talking to my dad privately. I noticed that my mother had finished making breakfast, so I quickly set the table and stuffed my favorite foods onto my separate plate. My stomach complained loudly at the fact it hadn't been fed since dinner last night. I slumped into a seat at the table and stabbed at the eggs. Right as I prepared to shove the fork in my mouth, a hand slaps the fork away and it falls back onto my plate. "What the he-" I start until I look at the face in which the hand belong to, my mother. My mouth clenches tightly, making sure to not finish the sentence that I had begun. Mom was holding the phone away from her face as she whispered angrily. "Not until we bless the food." I rub the back of my hand where I was slapped, wondering if she was mad that I almost ate without praying, or if it were something my dad said on the phone. Yea, lets go with my dad. My brother comes to the table with a glass of orange juice and a bit of everything else on the menu. His plate was unorganized, which irritated me. The eggs were touching the maple syrup and the bacon was piled up atop his pancakes. I grimaced as he licked his lips and licked maple syrup from his fingers. Call me a neat freak, call me germaphobe, I don't really care. Just know that if you lick your fingers or leave no space between foods on your plate, I might kill you.