(Chapter 1) Fair and Square

289 12 2
                                        

HEY GUYS I REALISED THAT I TOLD YOU I WOULDNT BE UPDATING TILL 5TH OF FEBURARY AS A RESULT OF NINE EXAMS IN THE NEXT 2 WEEKS. BUT I GOT 5 DONE THIS WEEK, 4 TO GO. SO AS ITS THE WEEKEND I UPDATED.

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT

♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡

Jennifer Harrison

Change is hard for everyone, especially me. After my Mom got a promotion at work we were forced to pack our bags and move to Sydney.I know right. How unfair! I had to leave everything behind just so my Mom could continue doing the same job, but for more money, in a diffrent hospital.

"Jen you ready to go?" Matthew asked knocking on the door. The answer to his question was no, I was not ready to go. I was still lying on the small, flat, blow up bed of the floor, in the middle of my empty bedroom. I tried to move my stiff body off the bed but it wasn't working for me so I remained lying, on a bedmfilld with little to no air, staring at the ceiling. That was until Matt come bursting through the door and started kicking the side of the bed until I got up. Basically I had two options.

1. To get up of my lazy ass, accept the fact that we were moving across the country and move on with my life.

Or...

2. To remain lying in the friggin uncomfortable bed for as long as possible until my parents called off the move and ordered the 'Making Your Move Easier' twats to bring the furniture back. Including Doris- my insanely comfy double bed that I hadn't seen in two weeks. Oh Doris how I miss you. Mummy will be back in your arms soon!

Seeing as I inherited the stubborn gene from my dad I went for the second option even though it had a probability of 'highly unlikely' happening. My parents may be well paid but they were as tight as anything when dealing with their money and my dad certainly would not pay the mover-of-furniture men another x amount of grand to bring back our furniture - that I was sure of.

You think I'm joking? When the pizza delivery man asked for a tip last night my dad shouted me down the stairs and told me to make out with the fifty five year old homeless dude that probably hadn't washed in obout three years. After much arguing with my dad, in front of the homeless dude, I had agreed to give him my last piece of chewing gum. But even at that Dad disapproved of my action. Ew, I just shivered at the though of having to kissy thoose grubby lips covered in mustache hair, which contained pieces of mouldy cheese. He was probably saving thoose pieces for his breakfast the next day.

I mean sure I wasn't a girl that all the boys wanted but I did have standards and Dad was asking me to go to the place of nò return. Although I guess I went there when I kissed Tommy Willson at age 12. Ew, thats another horrible memory that will forever be scared into my mind.

"JEN!! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?" Matt shouted at me and again the answer to his question was no."Get your skinny ass out of the crapy bed and go get ready we are leaving in half an hour. You did lay clothes out for youself didn't you?" Eh, no! I pulled my lips into my mouth preparing myself for another one of his rants. "For fuck's sake Jen! Mom told you last night to lay your shit out so you wouldn't have to rummage through your suitcase in the morning, but did you listen?" No!

Can we just get this straight, the answer to most of my brother's questions is no. Nine out of ten times he'll ask me a question and my reply is no. But that doesn't mean I'm a negitive person, it just means that I... That I... That I say no to a lot of his questions. Okay, fine I'm a negitive person; I spend my friday nights watching and crying over The Notebook, alone. Don't judge me. It's not my fault God decided to give Matthew the outgoing gene. And the good looking gene. And the short tempered gene.

Coming Out On TopWhere stories live. Discover now