Different Worlds
Welcome to my Living Hell.
Lola P.O.V
Why was this happening? Why me?
It’s all John’s fault. Since he married Mom, we’ve had to move all over America to suit his ‘job requirements.’ Stuff his job requirements, that’s what I say.
Sarah agrees with me, as she is constantly reminding us, “The moment I get used to a guy, we move and I have to go and find another one!” But that’s okay for Sarah, because she can get any boy she wants, and does so.
I sighed as I sat up in my bed, throwing back the black covers. I yawned and put my freezing feet on the floor, covered in my trademark stripey socks. I shuffled over to the mirror, ran a hand through my jet black hair, complete with recently dyed red ends, and got dressed in the on-suite, about the only perk of the new house.
I was on my hands and knees looking for my shoes under my bed when there was a knock at the door. I mumbled something which sounded like
“Whoisitcozimundermybedatthemo!” but the visitor kept on knocking, oblivious of my situation. “I said, Who is it?!” I yelled, freeing my head from the attacking duvet.
“It’s John, can I come in?” came the voice from the other side of the door.
“Sure, whatever.” John entered the room, and perched on the end of the bed, looking like he was preparing for mega speech mode.
“Lola, honey, I want to talk to you about the whole moving thing…” But he was cut off before he even finished the sentence by a piercing cry of,
“Lola Estelle Ryder!!! You foul rat! What have you done with my straighteners??”
“Uh Oh… I think you’d better go and see what your sister wants, eh?” said John, acting like I couldn’t hear the insults being thrown up the stairs, round the corner and into my room.
I trundled downstairs, shoe in hand, ready to face the fury that was: Sarah Ryder with Missing Straighteners.
“What was that, darling sister? Did you call?” I asked sarkily.
“You know bloody well! You’ve nicked my straighteners, you cow!” shreiked Sarah, although I was only 3 metres away from her.
“Have not! Bet they’re under your bed! Bet you!” I replied. I was not in the mood for her tantrums. No way.
“Fine, I’ll go and check, but if they’re not, I’m holding you responsible!!!” she bellowed and stomped out of the lounge, growling as she went. A minute later, she returned, straighteners in hand. “But you know, they were only there coz you put them there!!!”
“Whatever.”
Half an hour later, I was ready to go, both shoes on, Misfits bag slung over shoulder, breakfast in hand. Well, an apple, to be precise.
“Have a good day at school girls!” said Mom, crunching on a bowl of cereal, reading the newspaper. John was upstairs, getting ready for work.
Sarah and I left the house, and once we were out of sight, Sarah turned to me.
“I go shopping, you go to school, right? I’ll meet you back here tonight, right? Don’t say a word to anyone, right?”
“Whatever…”
“Lola! Do you understand me?” she snapped, pinning me up against the wall by my neck. “If you tell anyone, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Okay?”
“Okay.” I croaked, and she let go, striding off in the direction of the Shopping centre.
I rubbed my neck, walked down the road, dreading the day to come.
Why was this happening? Why me?
It’s all John’s fault. Since he married Mom, we’ve had to move all over America to suit his ‘job requirements.’ Stuff his job requirements, that’s what I say.
Sarah agrees with me, as she is constantly reminding us, “The moment I get used to a guy, we move and I have to go and find another one!” But that’s okay for Sarah, because she can get any boy she wants, and does so.
I sighed as I sat up in my bed, throwing back the black covers. I yawned and put my freezing feet on the floor, covered in my trademark stripey socks. I shuffled over to the mirror, ran a hand through my jet black hair, complete with recently dyed red ends, and got dressed in the on-suite, about the only perk of the new house.
I was on my hands and knees looking for my shoes under my bed when there was a knock at the door. I mumbled something which sounded like
“Whoisitcozimundermybedatthemo!” but the visitor kept on knocking, oblivious of my situation. “I said, Who is it?!” I yelled, freeing my head from the attacking duvet.
“It’s John, can I come in?” came the voice from the other side of the door.
“Sure, whatever.” John entered the room, and perched on the end of the bed, looking like he was preparing for mega speech mode.
“Lola, honey, I want to talk to you about the whole moving thing…” But he was cut off before he even finished the sentence by a piercing cry of,
“Lola Estelle Ryder!!! You foul rat! What have you done with my straighteners??”
“Uh Oh… I think you’d better go and see what your sister wants, eh?” said John, acting like I couldn’t hear the insults being thrown up the stairs, round the corner and into my room.
I trundled downstairs, shoe in hand, ready to face the fury that was: Sarah Ryder with Missing Straighteners.
“What was that, darling sister? Did you call?” I asked sarkily.
“You know bloody well! You’ve nicked my straighteners, you cow!” shreiked Sarah, although I was only 3 metres away from her.
“Have not! Bet they’re under your bed! Bet you!” I replied. I was not in the mood for her tantrums. No way.
“Fine, I’ll go and check, but if they’re not, I’m holding you responsible!!!” she bellowed and stomped out of the lounge, growling as she went. A minute later, she returned, straighteners in hand. “But you know, they were only there coz you put them there!!!”
“Whatever.”
Half an hour later, I was ready to go, both shoes on, Misfits bag slung over shoulder, breakfast in hand. Well, an apple, to be precise.
“Have a good day at school girls!” said Mom, crunching on a bowl of cereal, reading the newspaper. John was upstairs, getting ready for work.
Sarah and I left the house, and once we were out of sight, Sarah turned to me.
“I go shopping, you go to school, right? I’ll meet you back here tonight, right? Don’t say a word to anyone, right?”
“Whatever…”
“Lola! Do you understand me?” she snapped, pinning me up against the wall by my neck. “If you tell anyone, I will not be held responsible for my actions. Okay?”
“Okay.” I croaked, and she let go, striding off in the direction of the Shopping centre.
I rubbed my neck, walked down the road, dreading the day to come.