The Life of Bailey Walter- ON HOLD

Chapter 3- We Try Not To Bite

*UNEDITED*

Chapter 3- We Try Not To Bite

It’s now Saturday night, the Saturday that our new neighbours were invited over for dinner. And I found myself in my room, getting ready.

Our neighbours should be here any minute now, and I’m here standing in front of my mirror, wondering if I should just wear my pyjamas. It’s 6:30, and I’m telling you, it’s not normal to wear casual clothes at a time like this. And yet, my mother is forcing us all to wear nice clothes for the ‘special occasion’, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to misinterpret what ‘nice clothing’ actually is. She’ll never see this coming.

I feel a little bad considering she got some hair dye remover for me yesterday, and then she helped me wash the awful colour out of my hair. So I was very thankful for her part in that, but she disappointed me when she forgot to mention that she needs my car- yes, my very own car- for the next few days, due to her car getting some repairs.

Don’t get me wrong. I would very much love to share my car, it’s just that I prefer to get out of the house than hibernate in the house eating ice cream, and this unfortunate situation isn’t really helping. It’s time for some bribery, I think.

Back to my current situation. I’m wearing pale blue skinny geans, a white sweater, my grey ugg-boots, and my grey beanie which sat perfectly over my golden hair. Oh how I missed you hair!

I was also wearing my nose piercing, my ear piercings- yes, more than one- and my pure diamond ring on my left ring finger. Why, you may ask? I figured with my mum stealing my car- despite the fact that her and dad bought it for me- it means that we are officially not even. You’ll figure it out later.

I love the ring anyway, my dad got it for me for my sixteenth birthday, and for my seventeenth birthday I got my car. My red, 2007 Honda Civic Mugen, and isn’t it a beaut.

I sighed as I heard the doorbell ring. If I didn’t know any better, my mother would let my finish staring at my form in the mirror and she’d make someone else answer the door. But, as always I’m wrong. It’s just the downers of being the oldest in the house- besides my parents of course.

“Bailey!” my father shouted, “Get the door please”

Okay. This raises minor concern for me. My father doesn’t usually yell at me do get the door. Actually, now that I think of it, when did he get home today? I thought he was still at work.

And that ladies and gentlemen, shows how committed I am to my family. Oh, there’s so much love.

“Bailey!” my mother yelled, “Listen to your father!”

Yeah okay. That makes more sense. My mother probably told him to yell at me and tell me to go answer the door so I could tell our guests to come inside. In other words, my dad was forced against his will. I know the feeling bro.

“I’m coming!” I yelled.

“Well come faster!” My mother yelled.