Ok things are going to get pretty exciting!! Lol
I've added a picture of Jess's mum played by Marcia Cross, she's in Desperate housewives!. I luuurve Desperate housewives but considering their crime rates hit the roof I probably wouldn't want to live their lol ;D
You know what I'm gonna say right?,
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Chapter 9
One month later…
“JESSICA! IF YOU DON’T COME DOWNSTAIRS AND HELP YOUR FATHER AND I, I’LL-“My mum screamed from the living room.
“MUM! I DON’T FEEL WELL!”
My mum’s redoing the house, as if she doesn’t do it every 3 months. This time she wants to get rid of the grandfather clock in the living room. She says its taking ‘too much space’. Please, she’s only using that as an excuse to use more of my father’s money.
“JESSICA IF YOU DONT COME DOWN BY THE COUNT OF THREE I’M GONNA-“
“MUM!! I JUST SAID THAT I FEEL SICK! I CANT GO DOWSTAIRS AND HELP YOU SHIFT THE FUCKING CLOCK!!”
I was telling the truth. Earlier this morning I ran to the toilet around 3 am in the morning while everybody was asleep because I needed to be sick. I cleaned around to make sure there was no trace of my little ‘accident’, but I felt really week after that and couldn’t get out of bed. I haven’t told my parents, they just cannot find out, not yet.
Uh –oh, I hear my mum stomp up the stairs. She better not come into my room. I pull the blanket over my head and pretend to sleep.
Bang
Great, she kicked the door open and ripped the blanket of me.
“Now, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t be lazy and help me get that clock out of the house!?” My mum said hovering over my bed. Her hair looked messy and she her pale blue string vest was stained. She looked much older than 43.
“Mum I really don’t feel well, can I help you another time…” I mumbled.
“No. you’ll help me NOW.”
Whenever my mother used that tone I knew that there was no changing her mind.
“You know what? Fine. I’ll help you move the perfectly fine clock out of the living room since you are incapable of finding another way of spending dad’s money” I spat at her almost barging past her.
“And what did you mean by that!?” she demanded following me closely down the stairs.
I stopped at the last step and faced her. “Nothing. Now where’s that clock?” I raised one eyebrow and turned around back down the beige carpeted stairs.
My mother didn’t say anything but I knew she was fuming.
When we reached the living-room I met my father trying to move the clock. Note I said trying.
He was huffing and puffing, breathing heavily with one hand on his back and another on his right knee. His face was red from effort.
“That’s enough dad I’m helping mum now.”
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On my sweet sixteen i'm a PREGNANT TEEN!
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