My family seems to be perfect from the outside looking in. We have the big house, the money for things, the million-dollar-smiles... but nothing is ever as it seems.
We're plastic. We're fake. So fake, in fact, that we hide the little things abo...
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Another Saturday makes its way to me as I stare up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. I'd turned on some music to soothe me into sleep, but that didn't work either. So instead, I count the eyes on the wood above me. If this house could talk, I wonder what it would say. Would it yell at my parents and brother, or would it tell me to keep my mouth shut? Would it be mad at me for not telling anyone what's going on?
I roll over and look at the time. It's eight o'clock. My mom has already left and my dad is no longer home either. Tobiah is probably asleep, dreaming of cannabis and smoke. Or maybe he's having a nightmare that he ran out of money and can't supply his addiction and he's going insane because of it.
I sit up and place my feet on the cool floor.
What will happen today?
I make my way downstairs and prepare some oatmeal for myself. Halfway through the bowl, I hear someone on the steps. Tobiah sticks his head out from behind the wall that leads to the dining room to look at me.
"Morning," he smiles sheepishly.
I nod and look down at my breakfast, my appetite gone.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the other day," he says, stepping out into the dining room.
"Like you've done for the past week," I mutter, standing up to take my unfinished bowl to the kitchen. "I'm fine, Tobiah."
"No you're not," he says, looking at a nasty bruise on my arm. "And I'm sorry."
"Tobiah—"
"No, I am. And I want to make it up to you. Today."
I sigh and turn around to face him.
"I said I'm fine."
"My friends and I are going out bowling today. I want you to come."
"Tobiah—"
"Nope. You're coming. Go get ready or whatever because we're going. My treat."
I sigh as he looks at me with hopeful eyes. He really wants me to go doesn't he?
"Okay. Fine." I nod. "What time are we leaving?"
"Noon."
I finish getting ready and send a handful of texts to John, who is about to go help with a carwash for his soccer fundraiser. He's been on the soccer team since seventh grade, and he's really good at it. He loves it. It's so much fun to watch him play because he puts all of his heart into it, and with him it's all or nothing, win or lose.
Three knocks on my door.
"Ready Amabel?" I hear my brother call through the hatch that I call a door.
"Yeah. Be right down."
I'm not wearing anything fancy. It's just bowling, after all. I have on dark jeans and a yellow t-shirt, with my hair tied back in a braid and minimal makeup on.
