Obliviate {Book 1--EDITING}

1.Two Types Of Dog ^

"No, please, not them! NO!"

Gasping, I woke up, a thin layer of sweat clinging to my forehead. Sitting up, heart racing I could hear my sisters laughing downstairs and kitchen chairs scraping against the floor. The sounds of normality calmed me, and I flopped into my pillows.

What even was that nightmare about? I'd had it for the last few weeks, almost consecutively. It was a weird jumble of strained images-screams, a woman with red hair and flashing green light heading towards me.

I highly doubted those crappy 'dream meaning' books could help me explain what was happening in my head.

Mustering the strength to get up for my final day of school (which was pretty stupid, considering I should have broken up two weeks ago, if it wasn't for the stupid local council) I swung my legs from my covers into my childish rabbit slippers.

"Rory, are you dressed yet? The bus is coming soon!" Mum's voice traveled from downstairs in a yell. I grimace. No wonder I beat my alarm, living in a house this loud.

"Almost, keep your hair on!" I shout, sliding across the wooden floor to my dressing table. Fumbling around for my half-broken brush, I tug it through my messy mane of hair.

My eye catches my Warped Tour calendar, and I see the aggressive circles around today's date. "Holy shit," I whisper excitedly. "How could I forget?"

Today was my thirteenth birthday.

I fluff up my hair in the mirror as if I'm somebody important, my emerald eyes seeming brighter with my inner joy. Today will be the start of a new Aurora Oswin. A cooler, more grown-up girl who doesn't put up with anybody's B.S.

"Don't play up today, today is important." I mutter to my wrist as I put my special cream on it. Ever since I could remember, I'd had a lightning bolt scar on my wrist.

My older sister, Lacey pushed me onto a glass coffee table out of spite, causing the scar I loved-despite the burning sensation I'd had for the last couple of years.

But some scars can be cool, like mine would be without the burning. A girl in my year, Yvonne Zang, has a scar shaped vaguely like a dragon on her back. I only know that because, our changing rooms for P.E aren't exactly private, as we change.

Next year I'll get more respect for being a teenager, everybody always calls me the baby of the year group. But the only frustrating thing was I had longer until I could legally watch 15 rated films with Kayley-my best friend.

Kayley's older brother got us fake I.D's from one of his many dodgy friends, so we have seen some horror films a few times, which always gave me such a rush. Until a snitch-I suspected Adeline Fitzgerald-told the cinema staff of course.

Reluctantly, I pull on my rubbish school uniform for the last time in a while. I loathed it, but everybody did. This is the reason why everybody loathes the school council and members of it (and why I hid in the bathrooms with Kayley when form classes started class nominations).

We have been forced to wear mud brown and murky grey ties over our blouses, with bulky brown blazers over it. Teamed with pleated skirts below our knees, and flat shoes, we all look boring and meek.

Of course, Kayley rebelled in Year Seven, wearing red Doc Martens. After threatened with suspension she took them off, but up until this day she was still respected by the majority of the school.

We attended a snooty all-girls school-Oxford Girl's Academy-which may suck, but if I did well on my exams my applications would be looked at first for art courses.

"RORY, COME ON YOU IDIOT GET DOWNSTAIRS!" Lacey shouted, and I rolled my eyes. She was so annoying on times.

Grabbing my thick framed glasses and shoving them into my pocket, I skipped down the stairs, anticipating some sort of birthday surprise. I poked my head around the door, and beamed. Green and red balloons were strewn across the kitchen and a small pile of presents were waiting on the crowded table