Evangeline Potter and the Repeat in History

Chapter One

"Evangeline! Get up, get up!" I hear my aunt shout from downstairs. I sigh.

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My door is thrown open and in comes Angie. My spoiled cousin who gets everything and anything she wants whatever the cost. She is beautiful too. Blonde, slick hair down to her shoulders, golden-brown skin, electric blue eyes, and she's tall and skinny. "C'mon! Up! Didn't you hear my mum?" She asks.

"Yes, I did," I answer. "But the three seconds between her calling me and you storming into my room isn't enough time to get out of bed, dumb-ass," I say, "I don't even think perfect you could do that, Princess," I add. She glares at me for a few seconds before marching back out into the hall. I smirk, I'll pay for that later, but it's funny winding her up all the same.

I crawl out of bed, put in my contact lenses and then head over to the mirror that hangs on the door. I bite my lip as I look at my tiny figure. My messy, straight, jet black hair is long, reaching just below my ribs. The only issue with it, thought, is that it is always messy. Constantly. Nothing I do can sort it out or fix it, it just stays messy and untidy. My aunt Lexy hates it, but it's not as if I don't try to sort it. Every effort I ever make is pointless. I have pale skin, unlike my cousin's golden-brown skin, and I have bright green eyes. I can't see very well, I have poor eye-sight, so I wear contact lenses as I prefer them to glasses. I'm also very small. Granted I'm only eleven years old, but I'm still the smallest in my class, and sometimes even smaller than people in the years below me. I'm skinny too, it's not like I'm underfed, I'm not. It's just that no matter what I eat, I dont seem to put any weight on.

I glance upwards at my forehead and bite my lip. I lift my hand to my frindge and lift it upwards and out of the way so I can see the lightning bolt shaped scar on my forehead. It's been there ever since I remember. I asked my aunt how I got it once. She told me I got it in the same plane accident that killed my parents. I then asked her how a plane accident gave me a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt and she got snappy and sent me to my room, saying I ask too many questions. I've never asked since, even though I've had lots of questions about it. Like, why every night in my dreams I see a flash of green light and hear a woman's scream and a man's yell, followed by high-pitched, cruel laughter. Is it possible that those things are related? And that my aunt and uncle have lied to me? Or am I just being superstitious and there's no relation, and that my dream is just a dream?

I sigh, shake my head, and then leave my reflection in the mirror to get dressed. I change out of my pyjamas, and look in my wardrobe to find a pair of black skinny jeans, and a Batman T-shirt, and quickly put them on. I then head into the bathroom and wash my face before I head downstairs. I walk through to the lounge, where I find Angie watching TV and Uncle Ken reading his newspaper. Uncle Ken is a big man, around six foot three, with a round belly. His brown hair is thinning and he's starting to slowly go bald. He has brown eyes and a bushy moustache that quivers if he gets angry and shouts. He also wears square glasses and can often be found in a flannel shirt and knee-length, beige shorts.

Aunt Lexy must be in the kitchen; I can smell bacon. She's the exact opposite of Uncle Ken. She has thick, blonde hair like her daughter, with the same dull blue eyes. She's skinny too and about five foot five. Angie will turn out to look like her mother.

I find a spot on the sofa and sit down on it. With nothing better to do, I can't stand to watch the chick-flick moves Angie watches, I grab my book from yesterday and start reading Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. It's one of my favourite books, I like classic novels. Especially from the Bronte sisters.

I hear a thud from the hallway which means the post has arrived. "Grab the post Evy," My uncle says. I look up from my book.

"I got it yesterday, get Angie to get it," I reply, looking back at my book and taking back where I took off.