Paris Anne Lawson is not considered the favorite child of the family; her parents love her brother more than her. She always wonders what she did wrong, what qualities does her brother have that she doesn't have. Nobody's perfect. One day she questi...
It was a cloudy but sunny day in Tupelo, Mississippi. But it was a normal day, like all the others, boring. I watched him pull up in the driveway in his car, get out and walk towards the front door, all through the living room window. He rang the doorbell and mom rushed to answer it. I glimpsed as she greets her 'favorite' child.
"Oh, how I missed you, Peter! I have baked some brownies for you-your favorite!" She never baked anything for me. Peter, my 17-year-old brother is the special child, he gets anything he wants with just the snap of his fingers. Me, on the other hand needs to work hard to get anything. I mean, it's not terrible my parents still listen to me when I talk, get me gifts, and pay attention to me; just not as much as him. Why, you may ask? Good question, I honestly don't know why. But I am glad Peter isn't stuck-up and is nice to me.
Maybe because he is the first born, a half-year older than me, I'm 16 years old and turning 17 in 2 days on April 28th. I know this is selfish, but I am slightly jealous of Peter. Honestly, I don't see any resemblances with my family. My mother has piercing, electrical, blue eyes, strawberry-blonde hair, and is about 5'8 in height. My father has deep, forest green, eyes, ash brown hair,and is about 5'11 in height. My brother inherited mom's eyes, dad's hair, and is about 6'1 in height. Me, on the other hand has dark-brown eyes, wavy, dark brown hair, and a height of 5'3. I know, like I said no similarities.
But I love my family a lot. I remember a few years ago, my parents would tell Peter and I what we were like as children be fore we went to bed. They never said a lot about my childhood as much as Peter's, but I was satisfied with the information I got. Though they didn't say much about me a s a baby, more of a toddler.
I sighed and decided to go to my room. I ran up the spiral staircase, two steps at a time. I rushed into my room and quietly shut the door. My room was large but comfy. It had a big bed with a princess canopy, a sitting area, dressing table, large windows,and a door leading to the spacious balcony. I know, big right? Just wait, you haven't even seen my closet, but that's for another time. To say that my family's rich is the understatement of the year.
Paris Anne's bedroom below:
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I decide to call Arabella, my best friend. She is Mexican, from both sides- mother and father. She has chocolate-brown eyes, long dark-brown wavy hair with a side fringe, and she is about 5'5 in height. She is the craziest person in this world. I mean seriously, she comes up with the craziest ideas in the world. She has never backed down from a dare, no matter how crazy. So, she also is the bravest person I have ever met. Once, during math class, our teacher, Mrs.Bounty was yelling at us about how poor our math grades on our final test before our upcoming exams. She is in the middle of her rant when Arabella raised her hand and and said "My mom likes turnips, too!" After that incident she got detention for 2 days. As I said, you will never see her back down from a challenge, the day that happens is the day pigs fly. But at the same time she is there for me whenever I need her, sticks by my side, and she knows I will do the same for her. She also has an adorable little sister who is four years old. Her name is Camilia and she looks almost exactly like her.
Okay, hold up, we are getting off topic, let's start from the beginning. How about an introduction? Hi, my name is Paris Anne Lawson, I am 16 years old and this is my story.
Hey guys! Thank you so much for choosing my story! There might be grammar mistakes, so it would help me if you commented the correct grammar if you spot a mistake. By the way, I don't update until I get at least 2 votes and 10 reads on each chapter. And please don't let my versions of the cast interrupt your imagination!
