Rolling Dice [sample]

3: Rolling Dice

Hey, guys! Here's chapter three, hope you all enjoy it :)

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Chapter 3

The piercing hurts like heck.

When I first see myself in the mirror after Bette pierces my nose, I can barely see any resemblance of my old self.

The ‘rock-chic’ haircut and the blue sparkly stud in my nose are one thing, but even the fact I’m wearing ripped Abercrombie shorts and a cute blue tank top with matching blue flip-flops is hugely different to the old me.

I picture myself as I was back when I was just starting out in high school. Chubby, and with thick-lenses in my wiry glasses, and braces I’d had for a year at least. A shapeless jumper and jeans, to make it less obvious I was far from a size zero. I was really nothing special.

It would’ve been better if I’d been invisible.

But I wasn’t.

It would’ve been better if I was really smart; but I only got the A grades when I worked for them, so I wasn’t a nerd. It would’ve been better if I was a band geek or in the chess club – but I wasn’t.

I shake my head, because none of that matters now, not here. I don’t have to be that person anymore. I’m forgetting about her.

I smile at my reflection. Definitely cool, daring and spontaneous.

I’m pretty pleased with myself as I walk home. Not just because of the piercing, and not just because a cute guy put his number in my cell phone, but because everything is finally looking up for me.

It’s getting better.

Well, it’s better up until I get home, at least.

“Is that you, Madison?”

“Considering I’m the only other person in this state who has a key to the house, no, Mom, it’s not me,” I call back.

The house smells of cooking, and I automatically know Dad’s been making pasta. I breathe in deeply; Dad’s cooking always smells amazing. Mom’s cooking often smells a little more… burnt.

“You’re just in time for dinner,” she says, popping her head around the kitchen door at the end of the hallway for a moment. As I take off my shoes and put down the carrier bag for my cell phone, she carries on, “Did you find a cell phone?”

“Yeah. It has internet and stuff.” I don’t specify the ‘stuff’ because I’m not entirely sure what the ‘stuff’ consists of just yet. I just know to send a text, make a phone call, and open Google.

“That’s good.”

She doesn’t even ask me how much it cost. She’s just glad I’m being like a normal teenager and I have a cell phone.

I walk into the kitchen, which is all wooden units and ceramic tiling, as Dad is dishing out pasta at the stove. I grab a plate and sit down at the table opposite where my parents are going to sit.

“Did you finish putting the rest of the boxes in the attic?” I ask.

“Yep,” Dad tells me smugly. Mom’s been bugging him to move all the boxes of old photo albums and old toys from when me and Jenna were kids – you know, the usual kind of junk you keep in attics – out of the spare room for days.

They sit down, then, and I realize just how fast and hard my heart is beating.

They haven’t noticed the nose piercing yet.