Visions Are Seldom All They Seem

Chapter 1: A Day In The Life

        Flashbulbs go off in my face, blinding me every time I open my eyes. I hear my name and the names of my family being screamed out by the hoards of paparazzi surrounding us. The bodyguards we have with us are doing their best, but there are just so many photographers and reporters. I can't believe that all these magazines and online gossip sites are interested in a restaurant opening, but I suppose if it's owned by George Clooney, that would make a difference in the media's attentions.  

        Finally, after what seems like hours of shoving through the endless throngs of photographers, we make it to the car. The door is opened hastily and I dive in, desperate to get away from their prying lenses. My sister Kayla always says, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen." when I complain about growing up as a celebrity's kid. Problem is, I can't get out. The kitchen is my family, my home, my school, my town. I live in the kitchen. And it got too hot for me a long time ago.  

        "What did you girls think of the restaurant?" my father asks. My dad, Jonathan Thompson, is the most famous actor in Hollywood. He has won numerous Oscars and is now the 2 time winner of People's Sexiest Man Alive! Award. Recently, he's been more into the business side of the industry, directing a TV series, investing in restaurants like the one we just went to, things like that. Anyway, my dad is always looking to make a buck, to get more fame, more money, more possessions. Never mind that we already have more than we need.  

        "Daddy, it was SO AMAZING!" my sister Kayla squeals. In regards to personality, Kayla is just like my father. Strong willed but in all the wrong ways. Ambitious but self serving. But when you look at her, you see her mother. Blonde, long legged French model Colette St. Pierre is the mother of my three half-sisters. Her and my father divorced when the girls were 10. A year later, he married my mother- Isabelle Lorenzo. A raven haired beauty, Isabelle was just an up and coming actress when she became Isabelle Thompson. That famous last name catapulted her to stardom.  

        "Yeah, so good!" Ashton, my other sister and Kayla's sidekick, chimes in. Ashton agrees with absolutely everything Kayla says and I'm pretty sure half the time she has no idea what's going on. The other half I swear she's an evil genius plotting to make my life miserable. She has caused SO many of my childhood injuries, just by being her ditzy, clumsy self. She knocked over a lamp that fell on my head and gave me a concussion at 8. While attempting to give me a second ear piercing she gave me a nasty gash on my left ear at 11. And so on and so forth. Ashton's a mess, but she's a lovable mess. At least most of the time.  

        "Eh. I thought it was overpriced." A remark like that could only come out of my best friend/favorite sister/stand in mother Jenna's mouth. Jenna is short and blond and curvy, and she has taught me everything I know about life. At least so far. I'm only 12, after all. Jenna has been the one who really stepped in to take care of me when my mom and dad are gone. She knows me the best and treats me like an equal, instead of a pet.  

        "Dear, it was wonderful. I think you made a good move by investing in it." And there's my mother. Practically perfect in every way. Long dark hair, huge blue eyes. Perfect, symmetrical facial features (which I definitely did NOT inherit, for the record). She always manages to say the right thing, be there at the right time. Everyone loves her. Which infuriates me to no end. I don't even know my mother, and there are other people professing their love for her who have spent more time with her than me.  

        I'm the only one who remains silent. I'm sure everyone is expecting me to say something, but it won't be taken for a comment of value, no matter what it is. I could say something outrageous and untrue, that I had lost my virginity to a tattoo artist and they wouldn't care. They might even believe me. I pull at my black, curly ringlets that reach down past my shoulders to the middle of my chest. I hate wearing my hair curly like this, especially when it's so easily straightened. But my mom's stylist says it makes me seem younger and more relatable for whatever reason, so curly it stays.  

        The rest of the car ride home is silent except for Kayla and Ashton's constant chatter about all the people and the dresses they saw at the restaurant opening. They're insufferable, I swear to God. Why can't we talk about something real, like how sucky the appetizers were? Or, how I have no idea what I'm going to do this summer when all my sisters go to France to see their mom? I'll never understand why Kelly Clarkson's fashion choice outweighs the more important things in our lives, at least when it comes to my fame-obsessed sisters.  

Another day in the life, another wasted night. Hopefully this lifestyle will get better as time goes on.