Shakespeare got it Wrong

chapter 7- Juliet pov

juliet pov

I slink onto my bed, extending my arms above my head and stretching. Stretching always helps me think. Did Theo call me pretty, I don't think anyone has ever called me pretty, not even my mother or father, not anyone. EVER. Then, right out of the blue Theo, who I have hardly meet, except for bumping into me and meeting to get my diary back, calls me pretty and says he is going to call me. I don't know when, and I know deep down that he probably won't that he was just being nice, that he could have no possible interest in me, but this is the first time in my life that I feel like I belong somewhere, belong to someone, that I feel someone notices me, and I like that feeling, I like it a lot. THe only attention I have ghotten the past few years is when my mother tries to pretty me up, or when my sister and BRitteny pick on me every so often. That is apart from Remy, who is my only true friend that hasn't ditched me for popularity or boys or whatever.

I get up and make my way to the bathroom. I need to shower before dinner, and try to forget about Theo, it will only hurt me more in the end when I finger out it was just for fun or a dare or something.

I let the warm water drizzle through my hair and down my back, washing away any existence of THeo. Nope I don't know him, never meet him, never lost my diary, and never bumped into him. And he never told me I was pretty and never paid me attention and never, ever happened.

Leaving it at that I slip out of the shower and dress myself in my long summer pjama pants and a singlet and wrap my purple gown to cover myself up, trying to avoid unwanted comments from Grace and my mum and well anyone else who wants to throw some insults at me. I make my way down the freshly vacuumed white car-petted stairs, a whole house is carpeted apart from the bathroom and kitchen, even the garage has a bit of carpet.

At the table my sister sits, her hair wrapped up in curlers and her non interested expression stares at me as I take my seat next to my father. I prefer to sit next to him, at least he doesn't really care what I look like, he is more of an academics person, you know, the business type. Well I guess that is understandable considering he owns a beauty line in high fashion. BUt that is probably why he married my mother.

 Now you'd think rich families eat nice big three coursed meals every night, not mine tonight we have chicken ceaser salad, which is one of my favourites cause at least it has meat in it. My mother makes our chef always make healthy meals that just suppress your hunger and don't put weight on you., Now your probably wondering, well then how come I am so friggin huge, easy, dinner doesn't stop me from starving so at night I  normally sneek into the kitchen for some chocolate cake or something, OUr maid always leaves extra food out for me, I think she understands my pain, sometimes she will even buy me a chocolate bar, she leaves the in the off oven.

I pick up my fork and stab it into the lettuce leaf and begin to chew.

My sister is staring at me from across the table her heavily made up eyes( I have no idea how she gets her makeup to last a whole day) peering through my skin. Finally when I have finished my plate I put down my fork and look at her.

"What do you want" I mutter getting ready to leave tghe table.

My mother gasps, but my sister ignores her, "I want to know who you were speaking to today, who was that guy, how old is he, he is kinda hot, how do you know him?" she questions me like a police officer asking a drink driver how drunk he is.

"How do you know that" I ask, casting my eyes down. make it strop, make her shut up, let me leave.I pray.

"I have contacts, Mary saw you there and called me, what the fuck were you thinking" she screeches. My mother doesn't react to this, she doesn't mind Grace swearing at me, only when I do it, suddenly it is the devil's words.