Barely Beguns - Tales from forgotten notebooks

This is something I found scribbled down in a notebook buried in the depths of my desk. I don't know why I wrote it. Or if I had any hopes of continuing. It's probably at least five years old, so have a little pity on eleven-year-old me, eh?

"Do something about your hair!" my grandmother shrieks every morning when I come down to breakfast. Other grandmothers say "Good morning!" and "How did you sleep?" and "I made you some bacon and eggs for breakfast, dear!" But no. For my grandmother, no day is worth living if it doesn't start with insulting my appearance.

I glanced at my reflection in the kettle. She was right for once; my crew cut was sticking up everywhere. I screwed up my face and shoved on a beanie.

"That's not doing something, that's just covering it up!" my grandmother called from the table.

I sighed softly. "I'll fix it later, Grandma."

"You'd better! A granddaughter of mine has no business going out in public looking like...like...a boy!

I rolled my eyes and sat down at that table, in a seat as far away from her as possible.

"Grandma, I have a boy's haircut and I'm flat-chested. I look more boyish than my brother, and messy hair is not going to make a difference either way."

"Yes, well, you could take some pride in your appearance. One would think that you lived on the streets. Why, just the other day I saw -"

My mum thankfully intervened with an all-too-cheerful "Well, Bet, what are you doing today?"

My grandmother stopped glowering at my mother for interrupting her rant and turned her evil eye on me.

"Yes, Bethany, what are you doing today?"

"My name is not Bethany, it's Bet," I said through gritted teeth. Grandma ground her own dentures.

"I refuse to address you by such a ridiculous name with such awful meaning! Gambling? I wouldn't be surprised if you end up penniless after wasting all your money in that awful city - what do you call it - Las Vegas."

"Grandma -"

"You still haven't told us what you're doing today," my mum  said with a fake smile.

"Well, me and the guys -"

"Excuse me, but who exactly are "the guys"?" 

"Mu best friends, Zac, Finn and Jim." I said, trying not to hit my grandma. It was just impossible to finish a sentence around here.

"Don't you have any... girl friends?"

"Girls are boring."

And that's all! I honestly don't remember where this was going. I highly doubt it was actually leading anywhere. This one appears to be from a phase I went through when all my stories were about rebellious tomboys. Ah, those were the days....gotta love a one-dimensional character.