Two Lives Collide

Chapter 2 - Treedor High

I groaned as I turned over in my bed, the alarm going off. Break Your Little Heart by All Time Low was blasting through the stereo of my alarm. Don’t tell anyone. Seriously, I would be dead if people found out I played All Time Low as my alarm.

“KRISTINE GREENE, TURN THAT RACKET DOWN NOW!” my mother shouted from downstairs. I sighed, but kept the music.

“I'm gonna break your little heart, watch you take the fall. Laughing all the way to the hospital…” I sang under my breath as I stood up from bed. People told me that I had a pretty good voice, but I suppose I don’t need that when I’m out on the field cheerleading.

“Kristine, your mother told you to turn off that awful music, now!” my father shouted. I sighed and stopped the music. What a shame. I liked that song. I slid open my walk – in wardrobe door. Sigh. Time to start my morning process of getting ready. Being the most popular girl in school doesn’t come without a cost, you know.

I didn’t have cheerleading practice today; it was a Monday and there’s only practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So today, I could wear regular clothes like everybody else. I searched through the expensive clothing that my mother dragged me along to buy. Chanel, Dior, Prada, you name it.

The problem with shopping with Mum is that she has too much money. With Dad one of the most successful lawyers out there and Mum working in an office, we bring in big bucks. So my mother whips out her platinum credit card and I have to endure a full 6 hour shopping trip. Sounds like heaven, right? No.

See, the thing with both my parents is that they’re so controlling. Sure, they let me go out to parties whenever and whomever I wish, I have my own car, they buy me tonnes of stuff, but they don’t let me choose my own stuff very often. Like how I suggested to Mum that I should try the black ripped jeans instead of the baby blue skinny jeans.

She said, and I quote, “No way is my daughter looking like some punk – rock chick that just came back from an awful concert with druggos and the low – lifes.”

Yup, that’s my Mum for you.

I shook the thoughts out of my head. Stop thinking, Kris. Just choose out a good outfit. I finally settled with a pair of beige – coloured jeans, a white, thick – sleeved singlet that was tight fitting around the stomach, had a lace pattern down the back, and flowed down and ended just at my jeans. I settled with a pair of black ballet flats, and my shoulder bag.

Hair was never a problem for me; usually I just had to brush it and I was done. But today was the first day of the last term of the school year, and I wanted to look nice. I usually do, but just a bit nicer than usual. So I curled it so it was wavy, put on a small amount of makeup, and I was done.

I picked up my bag, and walked out of my bedroom door and down the hall to the staircase. For some reason, I stopped at my brother’s door on the way. I don’t even know why I did. He hasn’t been in that room for over three years now.

I don’t want to go into some sort of sob story, but my brother passed away three years ago when he suddenly went missing. His body was found, shot three times in the chest, and dumped in some river on the outskirts of town. Seeming as my Dad was a lawyer, he made it his job to find the killer. They did, and he was served life sentence. Still hurts a bit, though.

But I’m tough. I got through it.

I turned away from the door and walked down the stairs. Both Mum and Dad were dressed in their usual professional attire, and were stuffing some papers into both of their brief cases.

“Morning to you too,” I grumbled as I poured myself a bowl of Captain Crunch. They just ignored what I said.

“We’ll be working late tonight, sweetie. There’s money on the counter for dinner, or there’s leftovers in the fridge,” Mum said.