It Was a Typo | ✓

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Waking up the next day to remember what horrifically specific words I'd spouted to a boy who responded in the worst way possible, and to feel my stomach churn with anxiety, or maybe it was hurt, or both, was not the most pleasant feeling in the world.

I rolled around in my bed for the majority of that morning, groaning unpleasantly into my pillow and occasionally letting out short bursts of dry sobs because I'd run out of tears (can't a girl get to cry in peace without dehydration getting in the way?)

I almost felt like Tanisha, which was probably the worst insult I could give to myself – if there was one person who was more pathetic than I was when dealing with heartbreak, it was my older sister. Oh, I'd seen it all. The unnecessary wailing that seemed to last for days on end, the unpredictable mood swings (or maybe that was just her in general), and the ridiculous colour changes she'd make to her hair. One time she was so heartbroken, she dyed it bright blue (bright). I think mum almost had a seizure when Tanisha walked into the house, letting that massive, luminescent mess on her head speak for itself.

But, as was expected, my morning lament was cut-short by mother dearest herself as she burst into my room.

I sighed.

"Are you ill, Mina?" Mum asked and there was that familiar edge to her tone, the one that told me it would be wiser to say nothing. I sighed again. You don't answer rhetorical questions, especially if they're coming from your Asian mother who doesn't take kindly to sassing. But hey, if I could send an embarrassing text message to Bradley, I could do anything.

"No, I'm not ill," I said, feeling brave enough to be curt (just slightly). I swear I could see smoke beginning to pour out of mum's nose, which had inflated to a considerable size.

"Are you on your...period?" Mum's voice dipped unnecessarily low at the word 'period' as though dad might walk into the room and shriek in scandalized horror, like he didn't live in a house with three females and wasn't a practising doctor of ten years that was well-versed on the workings of a woman's menstrual cycle.

"No, I'm not on my period." I rolled my eyes. Oh dear. Maybe that was a touch too brave.

"Then explain to me why," she hissed and I could see her fangs popping out by this point, "you are still in bed at eleven o' clock in the morning!"

"It's nine thirty, actually."

"It doesn't matter!" Mum snapped. "Now get out of bed, you lazy girl! Goodness me, why I was ever cursed with such ungrateful daughters is beyond me! Tanisha can't seem to stay inside the house longer than a minute while I can barely drag you out of your own bedroom. Dear, dear, imagine what Geeta would say if she were to visit right now...oh that wretched woman, with her perfect lawyer daughter and that stupid clever son of hers...who cares if your daughter went to Cambridge! Highly overrated, if you ask me. Oh and of course Sidhu, he's a guaranteed future Harvard student. Pfft, no one likes a show off..."

And there she was, going off into another rambling tangent that I could barely follow – not that I was listening anyway. My eyes were now back on my phone, which was on the table next to my bed. I hadn't switched it on at all, for fear of looking at the mess I'd created only several hours ago...

"Now get up." My eyes met mum's once more and she narrowed hers in suspicion. I gulped, praying she hadn't somehow developed mind-reading abilities overnight. Knowing my luck, she probably did.

"We're going to the park," Mum continued, eyes still narrowed.

"The park?" I groaned. "But it's so hot."