Four Hours to Change Your Life

1. Fate and Destiny

So guys, this is a new story I just thought of. Feel free to leave your comments down below =)

I'll be posting the first four parts just so you get a feel of it. It'll make sense later.

Erin

If you asked me what I thought of fate before the airport, I’d have laughed. Of course fate didn't exist. I mean, sure, I believe in all that ‘The bus is delayed so you’re late for the shopping expedition’ type thing, because that’s fact. But the whole ‘you have a destiny and you were meant to do this job’ was, to me, rubbish. You make your choices, you change your future.

Now I’m not so sure.

The cold is liberating as I push off the pavement outside the school, swerving around chattering juniors on my only two week old penny board. I have roughly 15 minutes to get home to supervise Terin before Mum leaves for the hospital. It seems strange that I have to supervise a sixteen-year-old. But then, autistic people tend to be highly unpredictable, and I would prefer my house to stay standing,

By the time I reach home, my ears are numb and I can nearly feel my toes, despite the Parka and my pair of brand new Uggs Dad brought me. I’m only wearing them mostly because I would freeze in my usual hoodie and Converse.

Terin is slumped infront of the TV, fingers flying over the game remote.

“Hey,” I say. He doesn't answer, just continues to stare blankly at the TV screen.

“I’ll make dinner.”

Mum bustles down the stairs at that moment, enveloping me in a large, perfumed hug. She plants a kiss on my cheek.

“There’s macaroni and cheese in the fridge for dinner, just stick it in the microwave to warm it up. Dad says hi,” she says slipping on her coat. I sigh, really not caring whether or not Dad said hi. But I suppose I should be grateful that he’s travelling out to Chicago just to pick up some info on my adoption. I can tell the last thing he wanted to do was go and sit in a room and ‘chat’ with some other parents about the other three kids that I’m related to.

“Hello to you, too,” I laugh, and she turns around to blow a kiss to me, smiling. 

“Bye Terin!” Terin, naturally, doesn't respond. Yet she looks like she couldn't love him more.

She sticks her head round the door just as it’s closing to say, “Make sure he doesn't burn down the house, will you? Love you, sweetie!”

And the door slams.

I remove my coat and boots. For the sake of Dad, I hang the Parka on the peg, and place the shoes together neatly. I wander into the kitchen and stick the two bowls of macaroni in the microwave. It’s then I realise that I have nothing to do with myself. Ballet was cancelled today because Ms Burbage has the flu, and usually I go to ballet every day from five until nine. 

I curl up next to Terin and mindlessly watch him play his video game while we eat.

“H-how was your, um, day?”

My head snaps round. Did Terin just ask me a question? 

He’s flushed red, obviously embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, it was ok, thanks. Bit boring, you know? How was yours?”

“It was good.”

I feel like crying. That’s the first time Terin’s spoken to me in two days.