So, What Pick-Up Line Actually Works On You?

Chapter Two - Are You Related To Hitler?

Chapter Two - Are You Related To Hitler?

DAY ONE OF MY BUCKET LIST GOALS

Oh my dear God, I hate soggy cereal. I dropped the spoon back into the bowl of slop on my lap and pushed it away, wrinkling my nose in disgust. Eating it was horrible, soggy stale cereal is not my thing. I'm more a French toast kind of girl. I jumped up slightly, and grabbed my notebook. I had 126 things I wanted to do before I died, well, 127 now.

127. Eat French toast in France

 

Damn, I was going to have a hard time going through all of those. I had 92 days, all of August, September and October. That averaged out at 1.38 things to do every day. I pursed my lips as I thought, well, I'd be weaker towards the end of my three months and I would be travelling some days, so I'd aim to do two a day if possible, maybe just one some days.

"Hey, Annie-Pannie!" A chirpy voice called from my door frame and I glanced up. Tyson, my older brother was leaning against the door with a smug looking Rhys at his side.

Tyson had just turned eighteen, he was three years older than me and he loved every second of it. We looked alike, both with dark hair and emerald green eyes; except he was tall and I was a midget. Except we both dyed our hair, his was platinum blond and mine was a vivid red.

Tyson wouldn't let this go ahead, and I could do my bucket list by myself, without that prick around using crap pick-up lines. I waited for him to tell me off, and he opened his mouth....

"This lovely young man here has told me all about you're little deal. And I approve, oddly enough. You need to live Anabelle for the last three months, and this is the best way to do it. But I'm coming with you two, I don't trust him completely. He reminds me of me. And Rhys has the same condition as you; you need support from somebody who understands." Tyson finished with a quick smirk and I felt like groaning. I was stuck with my older brother who acted three and an egotistical, arrogant jerk ass for the next three months.

This could be fun though, I couldn't imagine Tyson on a pogo stick and that's what we were doing today. A grin formed and I shook my head at the idea of Tyson hopping around and then falling off a bright pink pogo stick.

"Annie-Pannie, I made a bucket list too, I have a fifty-fifty chance, remember?" Rhys spoke up, waving a neatly written sheet of paper in the air, which Tyson snatched from him and scanned down.

Tyson made a noise of approval, "Annie, give me yours too and I'll sort out what we're going to do each day." I handed it to him,

"But I want to do number one and two on mine today, Ty!" I argued, huffing and crossing my arms across my chest.

"Pogo sticks and a concert? Annie, how about we do the concert tomorrow, because that will take a bit of planning. I'm going to randomly pick one of Rhys's objectives." Tyson offered, before blindly stabbing the paper with his finger.

"Dude, really? Run around in sprinklers for five minutes?" Tyson laughed, shaking his head sympathetically.

Well, I couldn't speak. I wanted to master the art of pogo sticking.

Tyson shrugged, "Well, if that's what floats your boats. Annie, I'll just go sign you out, okay?" Tyson didn't wait for an answer, and he just jogged out cheerily, waving at me as he left for five minutes. I knew that finding out I had leukaemia was hard on him; once I was gone he'd be alone. Our father had died three years ago, funnily enough he had leukaemia too and I saw what the treatment had done to him; yet another reason I didn't want it. Our mother was absent, a hard-core business woman who didn't care what we did.