I launch myself at the door just as Dad comes through and I literally plough right into him, almost making him drop his laptop.
"Sorry," I mutter, but he just smiles, his few wrinkles disappearing as he does so, and pulls me into a hug. He smells of his office, and I know this as I went there a lot as a kid and once, when I was like 7, I wrote 'Daddy is the best and desrvs that promoton that you told him he cudnt hav' in my huge, wobbly, misspelt script in bright red crayon on the wall near his boss' office. Yeah, I didn't go there much after that.
"How was your day?" He asks me, pulling himself out of the hug and brushing back his mostly combed over salt-and-pepper hair.
"Alright I guess," I reply with a shrug. "Not done much this week so same old, same old. How about you? Anything exciting?"
"Actually yes," He answers, his brow suddenly furrowing with worry. "But I have to talk with your mother first." "Oh, OK," I reply, instantly knowing that it was something very important if he won't tell me. "I'll just chill here then," I stumble backwards and sit on the low bench underneath the coat pegs by the door.
"Cool, see you in a bit," He says without questioning my actions. He plants a kiss on the top of my head and, just as Mum reaches the bottom of the stairs, catches her arm and pulls her into the living room, closing the door.
"What was that all about?" I ask Heather, who appeared behind Mum on the stairs.
"I don't know, nor do I care," She says dismissively with the wave of her hand. "Now make yourself useful and go get me a yogurt. Low fat."
"No!" I exclaim with a little laugh at the insanity of her expectancy. "Get it yourself, I'm not your slave."
Heather growls with frustration and thumps down from her perch on the step, stomping past me and into the kitchen saying, "You suck!"
"You suck!" I mimic, quite well if you ask me. I hit her annoying tone perfectly. Ah, how I enjoy mimicry. I get up and go towards the staircase and just before mounting the first step I add, "And I have no idea why you're going low fat, you're a scarecrow as it is. You even have no brain," I leave enough time to see the dumb, gawping face she pulls at me before flying up the stairs, laughing loudly so she can hear.
YOU ARE READING
New Kid in America
Teen Fiction'Looking at the school from afar, it looks exactly like all the films and TV programmes. Even the people seem to act the same. Something tells me that the cool kids back home wouldn't stand a chance here, which means only one thing; I'll be eaten al...
