I'd Tell You I Love you, But Really, I Hate You.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Paris!” shrieked my sister, Katie, yanking back the curtains, letting the bright sunshine flood my small room. “Get up, or you’ll be late to school!”

I groaned and sat up groggily, rubbing my eyes and yawning. I ran a hand through my dirty blonde hair, which only reached my neck, and brushed my long fringe back, reaching for my glasses. They were big, black-framed and weird. But I loved them.

After I’d stood up and stretched, I pulled some clothes out of my wardrobe and laid them across my bed. Then, I trudged into the bathroom and came out twenty minutes later clean, with wet hair, smelling of strawberry shampoo and clad in a Lavender towel.

I grabbed a brush and tugged it through my short hair, dropping my towel and yanking on the clothes I’d picked out. Luckily, they turned out to be short (really short) denim shorts, neon pink tights (which I wore under my shorts) and my favourite purple butterfly top which had ‘I <3 Paris’ in big white letters across the chest. I loved that top because, firstly, it said I love Paris, which was my name, so it was cool and secondly, because it had no sleeves and it was just awesome.

Then, I tugged on a bright pink tank top underneath, which I tucked into my shorts. I slipped on brown cowboy boots to my knees, the ones that made the clicky sound when you walked. I knew I didn’t match at all, but I didn’t really care. I chucked my relevant school books into my purple satchel, and threw the strap round my shoulders, walking out of the room.

Katie and I lived in this small apartment, because our parents died two years ago in a car crash. Katie was so beautiful, with her long, straight blonde hair, tall, slender body and piercing blue eyes, that she became a model, and had enough money to support both of us. However, I still had to work part-time on weekends at the local café.

“Paris, are you ready for school?” my sister called from the kitchen, where she was strutting around in her modelling clothes, practising for her show this afternoon.

“Yeah, I’m off now.” I grinned at her, grabbing a banana. I remembered how Carter always made a face when I chose bananas over his apples and smiled to myself. As soon as it appeared, the smile disappeared. Why was I even thinking of him?

I was almost to the door when Katie ran after me and grabbed my arm. “Wait! Your hair is still wet!” she exclaimed. I didn’t know how she did it, but suddenly she was drying my hair roughly with a towel. I let her do it for like two minutes before I knocked her hands away.

“Kate! I’m fine! Now I have to brush my hair again.” I frowned but she conjured up a hairdryer (literally), shoved me to sit down on a chair and began drying my hair with that wretched thing!

“Katie! Leave my hair alone!” I shouted over the annoying noise, moving my head away from the heat. But my sister wouldn’t listen as she kept right on drying. “I’ll be late for school!”

“No you won’t. You still have more than an hour until it starts. And the bus doesn’t come for another twenty minutes.” She stated, and she was right. I had more than enough time.

Despite my protests, Katie dried my hair, and when she turned the hairdryer off after ten minutes, my hair was almost completely dry. She also pulled a brush through it, slowly and comfortingly. Then I stood up, hugged and thanked her, and left, wishing her luck with her show.

Outside the apartment, one of her many admirers was waiting for her to come out.

“Is Katie up?” John asked me. He was in love with Kate from the moment he saw her in a magazine. He was pretty decent, with short, dyed black hair and dark, shadowy eyes, but both my sister and I hated his tattoos all up his left arm.