Winter

i : the art of making plans

chapter one ; the art of making plans

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Winter

I didn't even have plans for my sixteenth birthday.

Most of the girls in my school would be psyched if they could relive their sixteenth, or if they could fast forward to the day when said event would actually happen. Actually, I felt that all the girls were excited for their "Sweet Sixteen". My mom and I on the other hand, couldn't have been less enthusiastic.

Because both my parents felt the overwhelming urge to treat themselves on a cruise, or some type of getaway to get away from their two children, I was left with my aunt for the duration of summer vacation, who wasn't even my actual, blood-related aunt, but rather my mom's close friend. Georgia was great, really, but she was mortally dull. Honestly, spending time in her living room made me upset and completely discouraged to do anything but lie down and stare at my ceiling- or rather, her ceiling.

Which was why I started out summer vacation by sitting in the formerly untouched guest room, doing absolutely nothing but reading. Reading was my escape- it was my way of living thousands of inspiring lives while stuck in my boring hell of one. And I didn't mind at all.

For the first week or two of July, I'd wake up at noon, get some tea and toast, read and use the bathroom on occasion. Other than that, I'd rarely ever do anything else. Aunt Georgia would give me a couple of bucks to spend at the groceries and treat myself, but instead, I ended up saving about twenty dollars a week because of my lack of motivation to spend time with friends.

Then, some time around Georgia's birthday, July 20th, her sons returned from their boarding school in Australia. It was a marvelous celebration day, on which she treated all four of us (she had a pair of eighteen year old twins, Peter and Steven) to a lavish restaurant in the city.

Aquavit I think it was, on 55th ST. The food was magnificent, however Georgia didn't seem too pleased when the waiter dropped the bill on the table. Thus commenced the exceedingly unusual chivalry of her sons; who proceeded to pay their half of the bill. It was a bit more than a hundred per person I think, and since I was broke, Georgia had to pay around two hundred with the addition of another two hundred for the twins (who paid for themselves).

As expensive as it was, the chivalry of the twins led me to believe that attending the boarding school in Australia had in fact transformed them into actual gentlemen. When I was eight and they were ten, or eleven, they used to play the most irritating and frustrating pranks on me, so the thought of them becoming men pleased me and I was thisclose to applauding them.

Much to my dismay, the two dimwits were only chivalrous around their mother (of course) and ended up dumping a bucket of ice cold water and raw fish on me the next morning. 

So much for their applause.

But anyway, on with it. The two of them were never up to any "good" clearly, even if they acted and sounded like the most benevolent eighteen year olds with their hands folded behind their backs. Have you ever considered looking at what they're holding? Evil, I tell you, pure evil.

So why would I even be surprised when they suggest I get a "life". I told them several times that I had many lives (in reference to the lives I lived through books) but they continuously insisted that I get a "real" life and by that I'm sure they meant going to clubs at midnight, getting wasted and shoving my tongue down boys' throats.

"Not happening!" I yelled through the thin, wooden door, leaning all the weight possible against the door to keep the two brats from barging in. I could tell only one of them was on the other side of the door, which meant the other was probably devising a sick way to get into my room without the use of a door.