The Other Girl

Chapter 2

Hannah

Five minutes left till school started. I began to walk faster but when I noticed my little brothers couldn't keep up I slowed down again. It was a bright Monday morning and for some reason there was more traffic in the streets than usually.

I felt my brother's tiny hand pulling my sleeve.

"Hannah, Hannah! Ice-cream!"

"No Brian, we have to go to school now," I said patiently.

His lip began to pout and he looked at me with his big, sad eyes.

"We can get ice-cream after school, okay?"

"Okay," he replied and he started smiling again.

The understanding of having to go to school was a very hard thing to understand for a four year old boy apparently.

"Can I have ice-cream too than?"

“Of course honey.”

“Can I order it myself?”

“Well why not?”

“Now that I’m seven, I can do everything myself.”

Connor looked at me and smile, while he nodded his head so fast it was hard not to start laughing.

Two weeks ago, he turned seven and he suddenly thought he could do everything himself.

I nodded too and laughed.

We arrived at their school, just in time for the bell.

“Have fun in school guys, and remember to be nice to everyone,” I said, bending over to close the zipper of Brian’s jacket. Connor nodded and ran away to his friends on the playground.

“I’m always nice!” Brian said loudly, and a few parents standing at the school gate looked up.

“Good, I have to go now, or else I’ll be late again, and if you don’t hurry up you’re also going to be late.”

“Okay, bye Hannah!”

“Bye!”

I kept standing there until he reached the playground and then I started walking as fast as I could to school. I was four minutes late, but my first class was English and my teacher, Mrs. Morgan, was used to me being late. She didn’t even look up when I entered the classroom and just continued writing sentences on the blackboard.

I sat down next to Kate. She smiled at me and then looked back at Mrs. Morgan.

“You had to walk your brothers to school again?” she asked without looking up. She said it as if it was a conclusion instead of a question.

“Of course, mom had another job interview.”

“I thought she already found something?”

“Well yeah, but she got fired again two days ago. I’ve told her so many times she should listen to her boss when he asks her something, but she still prefers to argue with him I guess.”

“Kids are hard to raise these days,” she said, while writing the notes down Mrs. Morgan had written on the blackboard.

I chuckled and she smiled at me again.

“Tell me about it.”