Status: I hope you like it. If I should fix anything, please tell me. (:
Whisper
Bad news
I wake up exactly one minute before my alarm went off, and you better believe I turned it off. I rush downstairs to hopefully get a bite of the last bowl full of corn flakes. I'm stopped when I see my father sitting there. He calls me over to him, and Peter is there too.
"Is something wrong?" I ask. He nods.
"Not exactly wrong, but I do have something I need to tell you." He pauses. "Mrs. Jones is having a hard time with Bryce right now, and she asked us if we could straighten him out a bit." He says. My whole body fills with anger at the though of that egotistical fuck sharing a room with me, breathing my air. I try to keep my composure and I put on an insincere smile.
"So is he gonna move in or something?" Peter asked. My father shakes his head.
"Yes. His mom is going to stay with a friend for a little bit to cool down, and Bryce is going to stay with us for a while." He says. I try to keep calm but I blow up.
"So we have to baby sit that asshole?" I ask, furiously. My father looks at me with a surprised look.
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" He asked me. "I understand you two may have had your differences, but you two used to be such good friends, what happened?" He asked. Friends? Me and him? I don't ever remember hanging out with him.
"When were we friends?" I ask. He laughs.
"You two were close when you were five." He says. Fucking five?
"I wonder what happened, oh, I have a wild guess, he turned into an ignorant moron who thinks he's too good to talk to people with some respect." I say. My father shakes his head. He sighs.
"It's gonna happen. Soon, very soon, as in today. He's moving his stuff in today." He says, getting up and grabbing his keys to go to work. Before he leaves he kisses me and Peter on the forehead. I feel my insides turning to mush. That makes my blood boil, who the hell decided it was our job to make self-centered little boys behave themselves? I go upstairs to get ready. Peter is trailing behind me to go to his room. The entire ride to school all I can think of is an endless pit of snide remarks to throw his way. I make my way to first period, almost stomping on my way there. I plop down into a seat. I drift off to sleep when the sound of books smashing on a desk startles me. Great.
"Have a nice sleep?" He asks me. Not in the 'I really want to know' kind of way either.
"No. I keep having a recurring nightmare of a hideous monster who's out to destroy my life. Turns out it wasn't a dream." I say with attitude.
"Someone obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, and I'm not talking about your attitude, I'm talking about your half-ass appearance today." He says. Lucky me, I get to wake up to comments like that every day. I see him rip off a little piece of paper and write something on it. He passes it to me quickly, not to be caught by the teacher. I read it.
Guess you heard I'm going to stay with you? You hate me now, just wait until you spend every waking moment with me. If I have to stay with an oblivious, unappealing, wannabe, I at least want to make it interesting. Don't respond to this, I don't wish to talk to you.
"Is something wrong?" I ask. He nods.
"Not exactly wrong, but I do have something I need to tell you." He pauses. "Mrs. Jones is having a hard time with Bryce right now, and she asked us if we could straighten him out a bit." He says. My whole body fills with anger at the though of that egotistical fuck sharing a room with me, breathing my air. I try to keep my composure and I put on an insincere smile.
"So is he gonna move in or something?" Peter asked. My father shakes his head.
"Yes. His mom is going to stay with a friend for a little bit to cool down, and Bryce is going to stay with us for a while." He says. I try to keep calm but I blow up.
"So we have to baby sit that asshole?" I ask, furiously. My father looks at me with a surprised look.
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" He asked me. "I understand you two may have had your differences, but you two used to be such good friends, what happened?" He asked. Friends? Me and him? I don't ever remember hanging out with him.
"When were we friends?" I ask. He laughs.
"You two were close when you were five." He says. Fucking five?
"I wonder what happened, oh, I have a wild guess, he turned into an ignorant moron who thinks he's too good to talk to people with some respect." I say. My father shakes his head. He sighs.
"It's gonna happen. Soon, very soon, as in today. He's moving his stuff in today." He says, getting up and grabbing his keys to go to work. Before he leaves he kisses me and Peter on the forehead. I feel my insides turning to mush. That makes my blood boil, who the hell decided it was our job to make self-centered little boys behave themselves? I go upstairs to get ready. Peter is trailing behind me to go to his room. The entire ride to school all I can think of is an endless pit of snide remarks to throw his way. I make my way to first period, almost stomping on my way there. I plop down into a seat. I drift off to sleep when the sound of books smashing on a desk startles me. Great.
"Have a nice sleep?" He asks me. Not in the 'I really want to know' kind of way either.
"No. I keep having a recurring nightmare of a hideous monster who's out to destroy my life. Turns out it wasn't a dream." I say with attitude.
"Someone obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, and I'm not talking about your attitude, I'm talking about your half-ass appearance today." He says. Lucky me, I get to wake up to comments like that every day. I see him rip off a little piece of paper and write something on it. He passes it to me quickly, not to be caught by the teacher. I read it.
Guess you heard I'm going to stay with you? You hate me now, just wait until you spend every waking moment with me. If I have to stay with an oblivious, unappealing, wannabe, I at least want to make it interesting. Don't respond to this, I don't wish to talk to you.