GIANT //still a working progress//

Chapter 1

Mondays.
The most horrible week day that has ever existed, for three reasons.
One; I catch the bus on Mondays (that I completely despise, due to many unnecessary incidents involving tripping over someone's bag or foot that they had purposely placed in my way)
Two; it's a school day (that one's pretty much self explanatory)
And three; My bedroom always seems to be at it's messiest.
In which, I'm currently scuttling around like an over sized rat hunting for my navy track pants- the only item of clothing that I fit these days.
Muttering, "Where on earth are my pants?".
I pause.
Eyes creeping round the room, waiting for the right time to snatch.
Just as soon as I see....
There!
I shuffle over towards my single bed that's pushed up against the right wall, closest to the big double windows, that take up the whole back section of the room. My bedroom windows face towards the neighbour's back garden, which happen to be our good family friends.
They moved in just last year in May from the country, and I still don't think they have adjusted to city living just quite yet.
I sometimes - well quite rarely actually - hear them at the crack of dawn about the same time when the rooster would crow, preparing themselves for the day.
I pull a crinkled navy blue leg out from under the bed and struggle into the newly found track pants, as I balance on one leg.
Then I chuck on a red and black checkered shirt.
Buttoning up the shirt, I walk slowly towards the mirror hanging on the wall.
Taking a deep breath, I take a step to stand directly in front of the mirror.
My reflection stares back at me, with cruel criticising grey eyes.
Pathetic.
I knew exactly what to expect but I hoped that by some miracle, I would've changed overnight.
I admit, I haven't got the most attractive figure as most teenagers do.
My legs contain quite a lot of fat, no muscle, and my boobs just won't stop growing.
Even as I reached an 'E' cup last month.
Literally, they won't stop. They seriously seem to shine with pronounced glory!
As for the rest of my body, let's just say that I can't control the flab.
I snatch my large plain black hoodie, that lies over my wardrobe door, and shove it over my large figure.
Wearing some sort of larger clothing over my clothing gives me a sense of relief; a comfort.
Like a protector or a shield from judging eyes.
I stare at myself again, standing helplessly in the mirror's' gaze, turning this way and that, getting a good look at my reflection.
Everything just screams big.
Why do I even bother with this?
I laugh darkly.
Because I''m worthless to them.
Why am I worthless?
Because I'm big and--
Breaking me out of my bitter thoughts, my 15 minute alarm goes off from the other side of the room where it's placed on my wooden desk.
I quickly grab my bag shoving my books, notes and pencil case inside that had been strewn across the desk, from my late night study session with Gordon.
Gordon is my neighbour\good family friend, the youngest of his family and 17 years of age.
Just thinking about him makes my heart ache, things will just never happen between the two of us in the way I've always wanted them to.
And if I did finally have the courage to be straight up and just confess my unconditional love for him, (I start listing things off inside my head)
a) I'll humiliate myself
b) he probably doesn't even like me back, in that way
And...
c) I'll wreck the connection between the families, if he didn't want me back, and make things utterly and completely awkward.
Swinging my bag onto one shoulder, I sigh dimly and rush out into the hallway with my blonde, ponytail, swishing behind me.
When my older sister Adeline and I were two and one years of age, my parents decided that it would be a brilliant idea, to build their own house while raising two little attention seeking children. They probably had in mind, at the time, that it would manageable and somehow tolerate our behaviour. But I'm one hundred percent sure that they struggled, a lot. The end result of the house, though, was astounding.
The two story log house has five bedrooms, two bathrooms and a double garage.
The interior contemplates a barn theme, polished oak beams run throughout the house, giving the house the feeling that it's way bigger than it looks.
The smell of bacon and eggs, waft up the wooden stairs and hits me as I approach the landing.
I pound down the stairs, two at a time, and stride into the kitchen where my mother stands at the stove, in her pink, fluffy, dressing gown without her slippers.
I cover my mouth to hide the snicker of laughter caused by the memory of this years April fools day. My brothers and my sisters and I picked on our mother this year, before April fools day came around, we got up at exactly six o'clock each morning, to study our mother's morning habits.
Then, on the day, we got up at quarter to six to scour the garden for slugs.
After we found the first slug, we had debated, quietly, whether or not one slug was enough.
The face that Mum pulled was priceless!
Mum got up, to go to the toilet (as she usually does, the first thing she wakes up) and screamed in horror as her feet were welcomed, by the slimy touch of ten slugs making themselves at home in her slippers.
Mum ended up emptying her bladder then.
I shake my head and smile at the cherished memory, Mum still oblivious to my presence.
I continue my way to the kitchen counter and slump down onto one of the stools, that are always placed under the black, marble, counter top.
"Morning, Mum." I chirp.
Finally acknowledging me, Mum turns her whole torso around in my direction, spachelor in her left hand.
"Good Morning, sweetheart." She smiles, lighting up the already lit room.
Looking into her blue eyes, I can't help but picture her horrified expression again.
I try to suppress the urge to laugh, but a little giggle escapes, betraying myself.
Mum looks at me, facial expression quizzical, eyebrow raised.
"What's got you in a good mood this morning, sweet?" She asks, turning back to the sizzling stove.
"You're usually all crabby on Mondays."
"Well..." I laugh once. "I was thinking about last April."
I don't have to say anything else, just by those simple words mum stiffens, she turns around and glares at me.
"That reminds me, you still owe me new slippers young lady!"
I roll my eyes.
"Like you'll ever wear them again."
"I don't care, you still wrecked my other ones. So what you wreck, you replace." She commands.
I sigh, letting her have it. "Ok whatever you say, Mum."
Mum nods her head, pleased with my response, and turns back around to finish off the wonderfully prepared meal.
She dishes out the plates, and pours five glasses of chocolate milk, one for each of us kids.
The memory is still strong, I snicker a sudden thought comes to me.
"I wished I had thought of a camera, you should've seen your face!" I say aloud.
The urge of laughter that I tried holding back before suddenly explodes.
I laugh hard and loud.
Mum glowers at me but I don't care, the last half an hour has retreated to the back of my mind, not presenting itself, that is all that matters.
"Give me one good reason why I should give you breakfast, young lady!" Mum says over my laughter.
Her is voice sinister but she betrays her embarrassment with glowing red cheeks.
Purposely, I try to make my eyes round and innocent.
"Because you love me." I reply.
"Ughhh! What am I going to do with you?"
Mum slides the plate, fill with bacon and eggs, towards me.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing." I grin and dig into my breakfast.
Ignoring my comment, Mum then calls my other siblings for breakfast.