Academy of Secrets

2

I loved evenings with mum and my brother, Chandler. They were always full of laughter and a sense of a relaxing atmosphere. Sitting down for a meal together, while discussing the days events, was routine and one of my favourite things we did as a family.

As soon as I walked through the front door, Chandler appeared in the hallway with a bright smile plastered on his face. The smell of Bolognese drifted in the air, making my mouth water.

"Had a good day?" he asked as I hung my coat up.

"Yeah," Not to mention weird. " How was yours?"

Chandler ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "Pretty awesome to be honest," his eyes lit up and he grinned.  "I've got a football match next week, which is a huge deal, and I've got a date tomorrow night."

At least someone's day was normal. "That's great bro, is it that Tara girl you've been dying to ask out for, I don't know, ages?"

We headed into the front room, making our way into the kitchen. "Yeah, it's with Tara." He gave me his lazy smile then and I had to giggle.

Mum was in the kitchen, taking out the Bolognese from the oven. Her blonde hair was up in a messy bun, with loose strands escaping from the sides. Once she noticed us, she gave us her warm smile, then stood up. Covering her casual t-shirt and jeans, was her baby pink apron with the words 'No.1 Baker' written in a fancy, white font. It suited her perfectly - mum loved to bake. Whenever she had spare time on her hands, she'd whip out some ingredients, open up her recipe book, turn up the radio, and get baking like nobody's business. Cakes, cookies, trifles, anything that contains sugar - mum would make all from scratch.

Comparing myself to mum and Chandler, I'd say we looked nothing alike. They were both a dirty blonde and tall with bright blue eyes, whereas I have my dark hair, strange violet eyes. Not to mention my shortness.

Personally, I believed that my looks came from my dad, although mum never confirmed this. Whenever I tried to bring the topic up about my dad - it would be a complete dead end. Mum would never talk about him and the subject would get changed so quickly. I once asked Chandler where he thought dad might be living - "Maybe Brazil or France," he had said.

"So not even in America?" I think I was nine at the time.

He had then ruffled my hair with a sad smile. "Don't think so, sorry buddy."

There was even no trace of Dad in the house. No photos, no heirlooms, no nothing. It's like he never existed. For some reason, Chandler didn't seem bothered by the lack of Dad's presence. In fact, he hardly spoke about him himself. All of this I found extremely odd. Why couldn't I openly discuss my father? Desperately, I wanted to see pictures and carve him into my memory. Chandler must have met him, being two years older than me he just must have some memory of our father.

As mum dished up our dinner, Chandler and I helped out by setting the table. A comfortable silence fell between us, which I was grateful for. With my mind still a turmoil from recent events, it was better to contemplate when there was a lack of communication.

With the table beautifully set and vanilla scented candles placed and lit - dinner was finally served. Starving, I tucked in straight away. Having missed lunch due to that awful headache, I was hungry enough to consume a whole hippo. Not that I would eat a hippo, mind you. I find them very cute.

Conversation flowed easily enough. Mum mentioned bumping into an old friend from school in town - Octivia her name was. Apparently they both used to be on the school's Netball team. Chandler excitedly told us about some upcoming science trip with his Biology class. "Not to mention," he proudly announced, "I've been accepted into 3 universities."