Hold me close

Chapter 1

Balanced on an ancient rickety stool, among our dining room table, I silently prayed for the chair to not dramatically snap in half like the last. I continued to munch on overly priced cornflakes, until the home phone began ringing.

"Hello, Skylar speaking," I spoke, with prominent sarcasm.

"Excuse me, miss", an undeniable pre pubescent voice hesitated on the other end. "I just have a few questions, if you wouldn't mind."

"Hurry it up Buddy; I've got cornflakes to devour, before school."

The immature boy was now giggling "Is your refrigerator running?"

"Seriously? ", I cringed. "Like I said, I've got food waiting and things to do. Next time, you might want to try something invented in this bloody century".

Stupid hormonal teenagers and their tendency to impress their no better friends. When I was thirteen the most daring thing I did was stick a piece of gum, I'd been chewing on for half an hour under the desk. With a guilty conscience,  I didn't leave it there like the average person would. I used a broken ruler, close by to scrape it off for nearly a entire lunch break.

"Feisty."

Sometimes I have the urgency to whack certain people through the phone, straight across the head.

"Who was that?" My Mother quizzed, stirring her daily four teaspoons of sugar in a coffee. Skinny was an understatement on her at first glance and I also inherited her natural slimness.

"Some retarded teenager", I muttered. "And Mum do I really have to pull out the research I did on your diabetes goal."

"Skylar, I have warned you before about using that word", she scowled me. "And do you really want to have the suagr intake argument again? Mine has nothing on your chocolate addiction."

"Do not diss the power of chocolate, it helps me study and addiction is a strong word, I'd rather the term weakness."

"Well don't be late for school, being tardy on the first day isn't going to get you anywhere", she advised smoothing out her work uniform. Having a job at the local supermarket can have demanding hours early in the morning. With her blonde hair neatly pulled back in a sleek pony tail and a dash of mascara making her beautiful ocean blue eyes glow, she kissed my forehead and was off.

I admire so much how she can just soldier on, without my Dad here. Not that he died or anything, we just didn't need his shit in our lives. Who needs love anyway?

It looks so comforting when watching a romantic movie and it sounds like a breeze when reading a romance novel. It makes you believe as if in the future, you'll find your true love; the other half of you, your soul mate and you'll feel sparks fly when you touch. But do you want to know the cold hard truth? None that is ever going to happen.

Yes, I clearly understand that I am only sixteen years old, but I see through all the cliché crap everyone else either chooses to believe or is desperate enough that they think it's literally real. I've grown up with my Mum, raising me as a single parent scraping up enough change to keep a roof over our heads. And if you ask me, personally I think we've done far better off without him in our lives these past years.

Sometimes I wish things were different, that my parents once shared the kind of love that you watch on the big screen, maybe I'd look at love in a different point of view, but since that's not happening anytime soon I think I'd stick to being my cold, hard and insecure self.

After years of watching my Mother and Fathers hatred grow stronger for each other, I promised myself I'd never fall in love with a man like him. Each night I'd stay awake until early hours in the morning, watching him stagger through the front door drunk, each night drenched in a different cheap and nasty smelling perfume. It's not like I wanted to encourage him to continue his behaviour, I just wanted to make sure he made it to bed at the minimum.