A Year Full Of Surprises

A Year Full Of Surprises - Chapter One.

Chapter One...

I groaned, slamming my hand aimlessly on my bedside table, trying to locate the stupid alarm which had succeeded in waking me up. When I finally found it, I slammed my fist down so hard I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't working tomorrow. After grumbling some more about the dreadful contraption, I realised the reason it was waking my up so early. The first day of school.

I groaned again at this sudden realisation. I had been enjoying the summer holidays just fine, and I definitely didn't want to go back to the hell that school was. Daring to open my eyes and face the light that streamed through my curtains, I grabbed my phone. I only had one message from my best friend Melissa, asking if I needed a lift to school.

My family, consisting of my mother and step-dad, were quite poor, so I couldn't afford a car. My best friend Melissa, however, was rolling in money like a pig in mud, and could easily afford any car she desired. We had been best friends for forever, even before I had had a personality transplant, and she had no problem sharing anything she had with me. Luckily, that included getting a lift to school.

Scraping the covers back and allowing the coldness to engulf my body through my skimpy pajama shorts and top, I clambered out of bed and towards my mirror, deciding how much make-up I was going to have to wear today.

My long, dark hair cascaded down my back, having come out of its loose ponytail in my sleep. My pale, but not 'white as a sheet', skin looked healthy and was free of spots. My dark brown eyes looked bright and lively and I smiled at my reflection, showing my not perfect, but good enough teeth. I wasn't model material, but I definitely wasn't ugly. My 5 foot 7, curvy with boobs, body still attracted some attention though.

Heading out of my room for a shower and dreading the day ahead, I wondered where my 'parents' were. No doubt they were passed out at some randomers house, or even in an alleyway somewhere. I could say that I wasn't worried, but I'd be lying. It might be like this every other night, but that didn't stop me being worrying that something would happen to them one day. I didn't really care about my step-father, Harry, I blamed him for the state my mum was in, but I did care about my mum and what would happen to her if Harry got hurt.

My dad, Arthur, died a couple of years after I was born, so I don't remember him or really know anything about him. Seeing as though my mum got re-married, when I was five, we don't have any pictures of him around the house and I don't even know what he looked like.

I don't like Harry at all. The first 10 years of their marriage was great and we all lived like a proper family, eating dinner together and chatting mindlessly. Then, when I was 15, it started to change. Harry started to not be around as much, getting back from 'work' late. My mother looked distressed about it and even though she didn't tell me anything, it didn't take a lot of brain to guess something was wrong. My instant reaction was to think he was having an affair. Getting back from work late, becoming more distant, all the tell-tale signs.

Then, my theory was ruined when my mum started doing the same thing. They were both coming in late. Whereas it was my mother and me being left out before, it was just me now. Their relationship was fine, if not better, again and they were all lovey-dovey with each other, kissing and whispering, but I was being ignored. It was if they had some kind of new infatuation that I wasn't included in.

I later found out it wasn't an infatuation, it was an addiction. When they started coming in later and later, happier and happier, I realised it wasn't as straight forward as I'd thought. Happy in the evenings and depressed in the mornings. That was how it worked, and I was the one who got the depression taken out on them. I ended up avoiding them both and hating Harry. He was the one who had started it and therefore he was the one to blame.