Love and Fame Games (Book 1)

01

I flopped back down on the couch and felt around the cushions until I found my phone and saw the time on the screen. My brows knitted. Almost noon?

That didn't seem right. I woke up and got out of bed bright and early, had breakfast on time and fully intended to get a number of things done. It was only for a moment that I started watching cartoons.

I counted the number of shows I had watched since I started; the math checked out.

Sighing, I got up, and dragged my feet toward the stairs so I could shower, change and try to salvage the rest of the day. Just before my feet landed on the bottom step, I turned and made a quick detour, toward the kitchen.

Lunch first, I decided. I was pretty sure I could whip up something suitable with whatever we had left lying around. There would be plenty of time left to be productive afterward. Maybe.

***

My mom was full of it: She tried to make me look like some lazy slob who spent all her time cooped up and didn't care about anything or anyone. Ask anybody who knew me—really knew me—and he or she would say that I was the complete opposite. I was athletic; I ran and was in junior varsity at school. It had just gotten too hot lately, even after sundown for it. I liked running, but not to the extent that I would die for it.

I didn't even spend as much time in front of the TV as she made it sound. If there had been a TV show that I really liked, things would have been a lot different, but I hated all the shows this season. Even the ones I used to like have started to suck. I heard about some good ones lined up for fall but that's beside the point.

The point was: I didn't waste my summer. It was just that, now that it was coming to an end, things were, quite understandably, winding down. People had places to be, stuff to do, preparations for the new term and other future concerns to make.

I did lots of things when summer began, and it wasn't even entirely my fault that I never went anywhere. We were supposed to go to Tahoe to visit my dad's parents. We used to go there every summer, usually for Fourth of July weekend and I was actually looking forward to it, for a change but my dad was just too busy.

Now that I was listing it down, my summer didn't seem so impressive, after all.

I partied, though; I hung out with friends. At least, the friends who stayed in town instead of being gone all summer without so much as a phone call or a text message saying hi or asking how you were and whether you were still mad about how things ended the last time the two of you saw each other—

I huffed and shook my head. I didn't have to defend how I spent my summer vacation to my mother. She was just picking on me because I was the only one here. If Summer, my older sister, were around, my mom wouldn't even bother with me.

Not that I wanted my sister here, or anything; we weren't exactly the best of friends. She and my mom got along with each other fine—better than I did with either of them, at least. Mainly because Summer always did as my mom said. Not without some attitude, but as a card-carrying member of the Mensa Organization, she was entitled.

The entire day passed without me actually doing anything. Dinner was uneventful. My mom did most of the talking, since she was the one who actually did something today. My dad was too tired to really bring much to the table in the way of conversation.

After I finished helping my mom clear the table and put things away, I watched a little more TV until a little before midnight, and then went upstairs to get ready for bed. I took a hot shower, washed my face and brushed my teeth. I didn't even bother turning on the light when I entered my room. I just flung myself into bed, facedown, on top of the covers. It was too hot for blankets, anyway.