"They're just mosquito bites," My mum said, clearing away bowls full of milk and left-over cereal. "Or," She continued, "It's a rash - I don't know!" Her voice seemed angry, or irritated - it seemed to embody the feeling of when you smack a bug away, or your parent's voice when you forget to wash the dishes.
My brother looked over at me reddened arms, "You look like a toad." I sat there for a minute - dwelling for a moment on what possible remarks would await me at school - before I pulled the sleeves of my school jumper down.
"Don't be so rude, Mason. Your sister can't help being bitten." Yet, her words seemed as if she was on the brink of laughter.
I sat in silence. "I didn't mean it Cami."
This, I thought, was obviously a lie. You don't say things if you don't mean them - you only ever regret saying them.
"Fine." I snappily replied - slightly irked at this interaction.
"You two should probably start walking to school." My mum told us, indicating that she wanted to be left alone.
I began to walk towards the front door to grab my coat, eager to get away from my teaser brother. I slipped my shoes on - the backs were worn down, the fronts erased of any leather that used to be there. I shoved my arms into my pine-green anorak and zipped it up half-way.
I opened the door, the sky was dismally grey, but white light still shone through the opaque clouds. It seemed to mirror how I felt.
I knew they weren't mosquito bites.
