Status: In Progress...
The Way to Believe
Chapter One
“Mum! Who is it this time?”
She giggled, “His name’s Josh, and he is gorgeous.” Every time my mom gets a new haircut, I know that she has found a new guy. Her once long and beautiful hair was short and straight, and, well, she looked like she had stepped out of my very own high school. What had she done to it? And why the hell would she do that for a guy she hardly knows. Don’t get me wrong I love my mom, but the new boyfriend every month gets a bit old.
I live with my mom, in a small cramped studio apartment, in London, England. The reason we live like this is well, my mom can’t work. Like I don’t mean won’t. She can’t even keep a job for a month. I sometimes wonder why. But then I realize, it’s because she’s a bit, well let’s just say, bipolar. I don’t mean literally, but in personality she’d all over the place.
Sometimes she is the sweetest thing but, like every mother daughter relationship, we have our disagreements. Or shall we say yelling matches. Our landlord doesn’t really like those; the people above us are whiners. We don’t complain when they make noise into the wee hours. And you know what I mean by ‘wee hours.’
“Why do you insist on going on a date with every guy you meet?” I sighed.
“I didn’t ask him! He asked me.” They always do. She is beautiful, with, what used to be, long, shiny, wavy brown hair, chocolate coloured eyes, and the healthiest complexion I’ve ever seen. She’s tall and pale and has these amazing legs, that she loves to flaunt, and these long luscious eyelashes, that she loves to flutter at the opposite gender. And boy do they fall for it.
I, on the other hand, have got my father’s genes. I’m short, and tan. And strawberry blonde, and I have purple eyes. Now your thinking, what’s so bad with purple eyes? And your right. Nothing is wrong with purple eyes, hell I love my purple eyes. But they really don’t go with the hair, or the skin tone. I’ve got this stubborn cleft chin, and fat legs. Ok so maybe they’re not fat, but they certainly aren’t thin or sexy or anything. My mom says they’re muscular, and they are, but I don’t want muscular legs. I don’t want legs that belong to a guy.
The one thing I got from my mother is the nose. The aristocratic nose. The nose that every celebrity wants, but can never get. I hate it. It doesn’t work on my face; my face is heart shaped. I don’t need a long thin pointy nose. A cute button one would be fine! But no, my stupid genes decided they wanted me to look like a freak.
“Explain the hair please?”
“It’s new. He said he wanted to see me with short hair. You don’t like it?”
“Um, mom, I gonna start worrying about you. Your not gonna go and get a tattoo and belly button piercing? Are you? ‘Cause you know how those can get infected easily. At least go for the tongue, or lip, or eyebrow.”
She laughed, “No honey, it’s just a hair cut.”
“Good, so… Can I get my nose pierced?”
She waggled her eyebrows at me, “Now, now, young lady don’t you get sassy with me.”
“Hey, hey. It’s just a question???”
“You know I don’t mind. But can’t it wait?”
“It was all hypothetical anyways…”
“That’s comforting… Don’t want my darling teenager to start rebelling now would we?”
“Hey, you’re the rebellion in this family.”
She smiled, “C’mere you.” She hugged me.
“So, when are you meeting this Jared guy?”
“It’s Josh.”
“Yeah, yeah, whateves. S’not like his name’ll matter in a week. Anyway isn’t Josh like a young name… How old is he anyways?”
“He’s 30.”
“MOM! Since when are you a cougar??? Your gonna be 40 next month.” I eyed her suspiciously, “How old does he think you are…”
She smiled mischievously, “29.”
“How does a 29 year old have a 17 year old daughter??”
“She doesn’t.”
“Your terrible. Despicable really.”
“Yeah I know. So anyways, were leaving at 7… Do all your homework and don’t stay up too late on Facebook. You do have school tomorrow.”
“You know me, I always do it, and hey, I’m a teenager, I like my sleep.” She laughed.
She giggled, “His name’s Josh, and he is gorgeous.” Every time my mom gets a new haircut, I know that she has found a new guy. Her once long and beautiful hair was short and straight, and, well, she looked like she had stepped out of my very own high school. What had she done to it? And why the hell would she do that for a guy she hardly knows. Don’t get me wrong I love my mom, but the new boyfriend every month gets a bit old.
I live with my mom, in a small cramped studio apartment, in London, England. The reason we live like this is well, my mom can’t work. Like I don’t mean won’t. She can’t even keep a job for a month. I sometimes wonder why. But then I realize, it’s because she’s a bit, well let’s just say, bipolar. I don’t mean literally, but in personality she’d all over the place.
Sometimes she is the sweetest thing but, like every mother daughter relationship, we have our disagreements. Or shall we say yelling matches. Our landlord doesn’t really like those; the people above us are whiners. We don’t complain when they make noise into the wee hours. And you know what I mean by ‘wee hours.’
“Why do you insist on going on a date with every guy you meet?” I sighed.
“I didn’t ask him! He asked me.” They always do. She is beautiful, with, what used to be, long, shiny, wavy brown hair, chocolate coloured eyes, and the healthiest complexion I’ve ever seen. She’s tall and pale and has these amazing legs, that she loves to flaunt, and these long luscious eyelashes, that she loves to flutter at the opposite gender. And boy do they fall for it.
I, on the other hand, have got my father’s genes. I’m short, and tan. And strawberry blonde, and I have purple eyes. Now your thinking, what’s so bad with purple eyes? And your right. Nothing is wrong with purple eyes, hell I love my purple eyes. But they really don’t go with the hair, or the skin tone. I’ve got this stubborn cleft chin, and fat legs. Ok so maybe they’re not fat, but they certainly aren’t thin or sexy or anything. My mom says they’re muscular, and they are, but I don’t want muscular legs. I don’t want legs that belong to a guy.
The one thing I got from my mother is the nose. The aristocratic nose. The nose that every celebrity wants, but can never get. I hate it. It doesn’t work on my face; my face is heart shaped. I don’t need a long thin pointy nose. A cute button one would be fine! But no, my stupid genes decided they wanted me to look like a freak.
“Explain the hair please?”
“It’s new. He said he wanted to see me with short hair. You don’t like it?”
“Um, mom, I gonna start worrying about you. Your not gonna go and get a tattoo and belly button piercing? Are you? ‘Cause you know how those can get infected easily. At least go for the tongue, or lip, or eyebrow.”
She laughed, “No honey, it’s just a hair cut.”
“Good, so… Can I get my nose pierced?”
She waggled her eyebrows at me, “Now, now, young lady don’t you get sassy with me.”
“Hey, hey. It’s just a question???”
“You know I don’t mind. But can’t it wait?”
“It was all hypothetical anyways…”
“That’s comforting… Don’t want my darling teenager to start rebelling now would we?”
“Hey, you’re the rebellion in this family.”
She smiled, “C’mere you.” She hugged me.
“So, when are you meeting this Jared guy?”
“It’s Josh.”
“Yeah, yeah, whateves. S’not like his name’ll matter in a week. Anyway isn’t Josh like a young name… How old is he anyways?”
“He’s 30.”
“MOM! Since when are you a cougar??? Your gonna be 40 next month.” I eyed her suspiciously, “How old does he think you are…”
She smiled mischievously, “29.”
“How does a 29 year old have a 17 year old daughter??”
“She doesn’t.”
“Your terrible. Despicable really.”
“Yeah I know. So anyways, were leaving at 7… Do all your homework and don’t stay up too late on Facebook. You do have school tomorrow.”
“You know me, I always do it, and hey, I’m a teenager, I like my sleep.” She laughed.
♠ ♠ ♠
Just the beginning...Trust me...