Here Goes Nothing!

CHAPTER 1: A little about me

Hi, I'm Agnes. Yeah, I know, not the prettiest name in the world and that's why it suits me so well, because I'm not the prettiest girl in the world and I'm well away from it.

Let me tell you some things about me.

I'm a short, scrawny and unpopular 17 year old girl who has never had her first kiss or has ever had a boyfriend. My dad recently passed away from a heart failure. Before you jump to conclusions, I'm not depressed but I'm not far from it... My dad meant a lot to me and I couldn't have asked for a better one. But anyway, I am not here writing this for you to sob and spoil all the pages of my book! That's a little disrespectful.

It's been about a month since my dad died and I've been visiting a psyciatrist and she's suggested I start a little book. Well, she called it a diary but I'd rather call it a book because the whole point of a diary is writing notes to yourself that nobody but yourself can read. I called it a book because I'd rather be honest about life and accept the life I've been given. Sometimes, I debate whether I even have a life with all the things I'm interested in... Get ready for a shit load of nerd: Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes, reading, gaming. Marvel, Doctor Who, Pokémon and silly little romance films. I'm a sucker for romance stories. I have tiny fantasies about them happening to me. You know, it's all SO CLICHÉ! The nerdy, unpopular girl starts dating the 'big, hunky, muscular sex god' that's supposed to be out of her league and they run off into the sunset leaving the world behind them... When has that ever happened?! Nothing like that EVER happens in reality so get used to it.

Just because my dad has died, doesn't mean I'm going to start my life over. I'm not going to change myself one bit. My dad liked me this way so this is the way I'm staying. I don't want a guy who's chasing me because I'm suddenly fake and hot because I've plastered myself with so much make-up and botox that'll literally cause me to melt in the sun!

"AGNES, HONEY? DINNER'S READY!" my mum screamed up the stairs. "COMING, MUM!" I replied just as loud. I took off my glasses and pushed my laptop off my stomach (which was now, may I add, extremely warm and toasty) and hopped off my bed. After a long, pleasentful stretch, making my whole body crack, I rolled up the sleeves of my knitted jumper and lazily walked down the stairs, almost tripping over the last step and dragged myself up to the table in the kitchen to feast my eyes on the succulent roast dinner that was plated up in front of me. 'Yum' I thought to myself before digging in.

Every now and again I flickered my eyes up to my older brother, Jack who was sitting directly opposite me. My mother and I could defiantly detect a sudden change in my brother. We knew that he was taking dad's death hard to the heart. He never ate as much as he used to and his attitude has certainly changed. No longer was he the bright, bubbly, outgoing brother I had known for so long. Now he was self-centred, uncaring, quiet, unfriendly and has a MASSIVE attitude problem; and by massive I don't mean the usual stereotypical teenage arguments. I mean, screaming and shouting at people for merely being friendly and sympathetic, getting in a hissy-fit because he can breathe... Since we lost dad, my brother dumped his girlfriend and dumped his friends for some time to himself to think things over, thinking that his friends would just run back to him when he whistled, but how wrong he was. Now, I'm the closest thing Jack has to a friend.

I looked deeply into my brother's dark brown eyes sensing the good still hiding deeply inside of him. I had been daydreaming for so long that it wasn't until my fork stabbed my, now empty plate, still looking for food, did I wake up from 'Daydream-world' realising I had gobbled up my dinner. Jack was still picking and stabbing at his chicken, even glaring at it sometimes. He caught my gaze so I smiled quite timidly at him. I could see the tears making their way from the corners of his eyes and before I knew it, he has jumped up and stormed off and up to his room, sniffing occasionally while making his way back to the depressing Lair of Jack Harper.

I looked up at my mother who's hands were clenched into fists so tight that her knuckles had gone white. I gently placed my delicate hands onto hers, attempting to relax her tensed fists. We both looked up at each other at the same time and I, once again, smiled to try and ease her out of her rage and sadness. "Calm down, mum. It'll be okay; I'll try and talk to him." I patted her hands before lifting them off of hers, seeing that I had indeeed mended her anger a little. My mum lifted her beautifully sculptured face to catch mine and a smile slowly creeped onto her face. "Agnes, darling? Help me clean up, will you?" she said, shooting me a wink. A giggle escaped my lips and I smiled, "Sure, mum. If it makes you happy."