Property of the Bad Boy

Chapter 4 - Its Not My Fault I Have an Emotionally Constipated Plate

Chapter 4 - Its Not My Fault I Have an Emotionally Constipated Plate

I stabed angrily at my pees as I listened to the dull conversation that drags on about politics and weather. My dear mother talked about a recent custody case that she was working on and Mr. Black commented fondly on what a good job she was doing. The topic switched to the economy to which my father found reason to comment quite a bit on. How come I had to be here? What was there possibly that I could comment about that would make such a huge impact on the world that would end hunger and poverty and the melting ice caps in the Artic. Somebody should seriously be worrying about that. I could be out developing a charity or finding the cure to cancer. But no, I was sitting here at a table staring blankly at my glass of champagne I was expected to drink. I felt another kick from under the table as I continued to ignore the smirking donkey much to his dismay.

I glanced up at my mother and father who were smiling and nodding. Any outsider could've guessed we were a happy family. I almost applauded at their Oscar worthy performance. My mother had clearly polished her wedding rings and my father found almost any excuse to gesture to the room and show off a picture and explain some story behind it. Many of which were more like fairy tales then family memories. I looked over at my sister but she was just staring blankly at the table, looking like she was about to pass out. I heard my mother giggle, a sound so foreign to my ears and so shrill it almost made me jump.

"Oh poor girl, she looks exhausted." To which earned chuckles from both sides of the table.

"May I be excused?" She droned out.

"Of course." My father smiled warmly at her and I almost choked on my own spit.

Oh so Chelsea gets mercy but not poor old me?

I stared angrily at my plate giving it the death glare that would send people screaming. Sadly, it had no reaction but that sure didn't stop me. Its not my fault I have an emotionally constipated plate.

"So Emily, how's school going? Any classes you enjoy?" A smooth voice said to me.

I looked up to see a smiling Mrs. Black and felt paralyzed for a moment. She was stunning, that was something you remembered. Her mahogany hair fell in soft curls that framed her high cheekbones and greyish-blue eyes perfectly. She was tall and thin and had a radiance to her you couldn't deny.

"I like writing." I gulped as she nodded as if sizing me up. Mistake, big mistake. No sensible human thought you could make a living off of writing and I'd just sent myself off the deep end. She thought I was brainless, a ridiculous child chasing after a dream.

"Ah, do we have a future journalist here?" She smiled warmly at me and all the dread I felt left my body just as fast as it had come. "Is that what you plan to study in college?"

"I'm thinking about it." I grinned slightly but saw my father raise his eyebrows at me. "But physics is probably more likely to be my career path," I quickly added in.

My father had never thought highly of what I'd hoped to make of myself. He always told me it was a silly thought, one in a million people actually make it. Physics was something I wasn't the best at, but he had made it clear that unless that was my major, he wasn't helping to pay for college.

"Oh." She nodded, the light that was shining in her eyes suddenly dull as her smile dropped an incriment. It was a small fraction of a second before it was back up, but I saw it. "I'd love to read some of your work sometime, though."

I felt my heart lighten at those words. Never had anyone ever said them to me. My father had been unsupportive of it from the start and however my mother was happy to hear I'd found something I enjoyed, she'd never offered to read any of it. It was a hobby that they seemed to tolerate and as dissappointed as I was when I'd first found out that I had no chance of a future in it, I'd learnt to accept it. In fact, I get embarrassed and flustered whenever someone wants to read any of my work besides my teachers and reading aloud was a huge no go.