smoke and fire » peter pan

Prologue

                                                      Prologue

Kicking a few petite rocks with my shoe, I walked home from school. The day was pretty agonizing, to say the least. Let's just say my parents won't be too thrilled when they hear I got a C in physics.

I don't even understand why we have that class, along with chemistry, math... I mean, isn't art school supposed to have more artistic classes?

I pulled a lock of hair behind my ear as the wind swept it onto my face. I don't remember when was the last time it was this windy. Fall's here way too early, while I'm still stuck in my summer break. Which brings me back to the bad grade...

I inhaled deeply as I stopped in front of my house's door. With no more wasting time, I entered, closing the door quietly. Knocking my shoes off, I slipped my backpack from my shoulders and let it fall next to the coat rack where I hooked my jacket. I didn't hesitate to run up stairs to my room, but I was stopped in my tracks by my mother.

"Lyla?" She called, walking over from the living room. "Yeah?" I nervously bit the insides of my cheeks. I know exactly how she'd react, and not to mention her feeding my father lies on how I never study so he'd take away my phone or laptop - which I'm on pretty much 24/7. Well, not that much... I do study. Just not as long as watching series and movies online.

"What's new at school?" She interrogates, me carefully locking eyes with her. She can sense fear, and right now I was full of it. But then again, long 14 years of covering little lies and what not made me the actress I am today. A deceiving one at that.

"Nothing." I shrug the question off like it was indeed nothing. Let's just say I'm too tired for a talk-down right now when I've just got back from 8 agonizing hours of walking up and down a four story building.

"Nothing, huh? So you just sat around, looking at each other?" Oh how I loathe this part. Every time. Every God damned time.

"Oh but we did, you know." I fake smiled, making a sarcastic remark. To which she pointed a finger at me, a strict look on her features. "Roll back the attitude, missy." I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead I just continued my walk up stairs in peace. I kicked-opened the door to my room, revealing nothing's changed since this morning. Well this is a first. Usually I'd find my things on completely different sides of the room, all 'tidied up' how they call it. Meanwhile, I'm left with a game of 'capture the flag' in my own room. But thank goodness, that's not the case right now. 

I plopped down on my bed, sighing heavily before shutting my eyes for a brief second. Man, I can't bare with all this. With all the school responsibilities and problems that annoy me enough, I have to go home to even more irritating things like that. And I swear, if it happens again, I'll lose it.

"Lyla!" A familiar voice called from down stairs, making me silently groan. I just lied down, let me love my bed in peace.

"Yes?" Nothing. Well, might as well stroll back down there. They probably served lunch, or, you know, want to sacrifice me to Satan. Both seem very promising. This is why I need an answer back, so I would know what they're leading me into. Sliding my feet across the edge of my bed, I stood on the wooden floor when I got up. Everyone was sat at the dinning room table, already feasting without me. I frowned, furrowing my brows at the sight.

"How many times do we have to call you so you'd actually listen to us and come down for lunch?" My father angrily asked. Well, father dear, I recall you only asked once? But what do I know, I might as well have hearing problems. I really need to get that checked, though.

"Okay, okay!" I raised my hands in defence, sliding in my chair next to my younger brother Louis. Most of the wieners were eaten and made into hot dogs, only 2 left for me to chew on. Picking them both and settling them on my plate, I 'decorated' them with ketchup, mustard and started cutting it into tiny pieces.

"So," My dad starts, glancing at me in-between cutting his food and putting it in his mouth. "What's new in school?" I barely shrugged, looking down on my plate. I took one last bite in before finally breaking the truth.

"I got a C on a physics test." My parent's eyes widen, my mother releasing an over-dramatic gasp and my father stopped eating for a moment. "How could you get a C?!" My father raged, making Louis nuzzle to my side out of fear. I wrapped an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder to reassure him everything was fine.

For him

I, on the other hand, am pretty much dead.

I thought of all the times I'd survive an attack like this. This one isn't any different from the others. I'll be fine, it'll all go away soon. I'll be fine. The words repeated in my filled mind of thoughts.

"Well I'm not the only one in my class! Considering how bad we all are, a C is the highest grade!" I protected, slightly turning up.

"The highest grade? Ha!" My mother sarcastically pronounced, oh what I would do if I could only swipe that bitter smile of her face.

"I'm not a machine for A's, no kid is." I said rather calmly, looking down at my plate as the food in it suddenly felt disgusting for the eye.

"We don't care! You're irresponsible, lazy little brat!" Well then. I stood up harshly, letting go of Louis. "Why can't you understand that people are different? Not everyone understands or gets perfectly the same subject as someone else." Filled with gemes, I was about to leave, swiftly turning towards the door to the hallway to escape before the argument intenses. But to tell the truth, I was escaping because at any moment I could feel my tears sting at the back of my eyes, and I wasn't going to show them that. Crying meant they win the fight, and I just wish that for once they'd accept defeat, even if I sometimes I am wrong. Crying also meant I was vulnerable to them, and they could easily take that to their advantage.

"Where do you think you're going?" My father furies, making Louis sob into a fit of tears. "Now look what you've done..." My mother mumbles, on her way to comfort Louis. Honestly, I don't know who she was referring to - the raging male or the scared sister. Picking the seven year-old in her arms, she kissed his forehead.

While no one was looking at me, I turned to leave once again, this time succeeding. The last thing I hear was Louis saying something heart-breaking to mom. "Are you going to treat me like that when I go to school too?" My heart sunk. Yes, Louis, they will. Because everything else comes first before how their own children feel. I gulped, pushing back the tears.

I shut my room door closed, pushing back my hair out of anger and all the emotions I currently felt. I fell back-first on my bed staring at the ceiling. Well wasn't this day just dandy.