Broken Hearts are Made to be Fixed

Chapter 1

I sit on the front porch of the brick house I call home. I'm moving out soon and starting a new life. It feels funny, I have butterflies just thinking about living on my own. I'm not sure if I'm really that ready to begin my life independently. Yet, what's a life without risks or excitement? A change of scenery might actually change me; make me more mature. Who am I kidding? I'm still going to be that little immature, childish person that I've been ever since I met my friends.

"Alexandra!" I turn at the sound of my name and get up. Walking to the white framed door I swallow my thoughts and walk in to see what's happening. Hearing my full first name is never a good sign...

"What's wrong?" I ask, eyes wide at my mother calling me. Just from her tone I can already decipher that it's not said with good intentions.

"Come in the kitchen, now!" I hear my mother yell, obviously distressed about something.

"Yes, Mum?" I reply, walking into the contemporary looking kitchen. I position myself up on the polished andesite island and look toward my mother. Her face looks as if it's going to explode, steam whistling from her ears. Times like these, I rather be stuffed under my comfy and warm blankets, hiding from the world. I can't upset anyone or disturb peace there, even if I have no idea what exactly it is that I have done. I mean, Mum doesn't get upset with me often, I'd say I'm nice majority of the time, but I must of done something completely horrible to get my mother riled up like this.

Being apart of the Lots family there's something you come to learn quickly. My parents are sweet and caring, they aren't really ones to raise their voices. We're a nice bunch usually, though my brother and I sometimes turn the stereotype in the other direction. Like I said, I'm nice majority of the time. Didn't I mention I'm immature? Yes, I muck around but it's not like I'm murdering anyone. Sure, I play pranks every now and then, but I swear they're harmless!

"What did I say about leaving the fridge open, not taking the trash out and not doing the dishes?" She lectures, on the brink of exploding. I look at my mother more, her brown hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail. If she brings it back any harsher, she's going to have a horrible reciting hair line by the age of forty...and she's 38. I swear this woman gets a grey hair because of my brother and I. And for the love of all things Holy, how in the world did I forget to do these chores?

"Sorry, it will be done. What do you want me to get from the shops because of my mistake?" I ask, referring to the fridge as I hop down from the bench, taking the magnetic notepad from the freezer door.

Oh wait, I know. I must of gotten too caught up in my book earlier and decided it was a good idea to get some fresh air outside and think. When I think, I definitely think. Professional over thinker right here.

"Most of what's in there." She heaves out a sigh and steps to the side, calming herself from her anger. I look at the food and write what's in there on the notepad, using the pen that's stuck to the fridge. I swear it seems I'm just restocking the fridge. If that is the case, because it's happened before, my mother is a great actress. She must of had the practice of getting angry at children at the hospital to trick me. She works with the children in her job while my Dad works with the adults. She doesn't get angry often at the kids, but there is that one kid Bobby...He pulled Mum's hair all the time when ever he came to work with his own Mum. Bobby is mischievous, he'll cause chaos within every second of his waking moments. He's only what? Eight? He likes to trip people over thinking it's funny. The little mongrel...I've been victim to this one too many times.

"Anything else?" I ask to make sure, tearing the note from the fridge and shaking my head to rid myself of my aforementioned thoughts.

"Nothing at the moment. Are you going to be walking to the shops? Or are you going to ask your brother for a ride?" She ponders, seemingly much calmer than she was merely seconds ago.