Eighteen.

Chapter 1

Aimee's eighteenth birthday had passed in a haze of boxes- the whole family had spent it packing.

 One week before their move from London, celebrations were the last things on her parents' minds.

It had hurt her, honestly, that they were willing to just let such a huge occasion slide, but she smiled and continued packing, promising herself that she'd do something once they'd settled in Adelaide. She had done her research- thank you, Google- and found that, despite what she'd thought, the legal drinking age in Australia was, in fact, eighteen. 

The only difference?

In London, she had friends to have her first legal drink with. There, she'd be celebrating alone.

"But I don't wanna go," Aimee's younger brother, Max, was whining. Six years of indulgent parenting had left him rather spoiled, a shocking contrast to Aimee's grateful and generous nature.

The pair looked strikingly alike, despite their differences in age and maturity. The same shocking green eyes, coupled with thick brown hair- cropped short for Max, allowed shoulder length for Aimee-, and, undoubtedly, the same heart-shaped lips. Max, at his young age, thought these lips the bane of his life, and was constantly pointing out that they were 'girls' lips'.

Aimee allowed her brother this one complaint, knowing those lips would, in his teen years, become his favourite asset.

Aimee could hear her parents' sighs, despite being four doors down the hall. 

"Max, darling," she heard her mother's gentle voice. "It's either we all go, or just daddy does. He has his job, baby, and we want to stay together."

"But why?" the younger voice demanded impatiently. "Why can't daddy stay here?"

Their father's voice took a shot to answer this one. "I've explained, Max. The whole company's moving. There's no job here."

Aimee could imagine the way her younger brother's nose would scrunch up as he tried to process this information. She imagined his innocent green eyes, open wide with questions that wouldn't make sense out loud.

She exhaled heavily and returned to packing.

As her birthday passed, her room got more bare. Her few posters had been carefully removed from the blue walls, not a single chip left in the paintwork from tack, and put in the toss pile. Much as she'd love to keep them, her mom had called them 'unneccessary space fillers', and she wasn't in the mood to argue.

Boxes lay haphazardly around her room, half full of stuff she'd forgotten owning. Old stuffed animals, books and CDs had filled two charity boxes, and she was working through her pile of maybes when her mom called her for dinner.

She stood up too quickly, feeling the stiffness in her aching knees from kneeling too long, and tried to stretch her legs fully, to no avail. Sighing, she walked on wobbly legs toward the door, trying desperately not to look like a penguin on crack as her knees slowly unlocked.

Eating quickly, she returned to her room, devoid of all excitement- today was supposed to be a huge turning point in her life. And, sure, the family's upheaval was a turning point- but not a good one. Aimee would much rather have stayed at home, but the promise of Australian college had drawn her in. She'd agreed, same as she always had, and just went with what was expected from her. No tantrums, no tears, just blatant acceptance.

Her hand hit off something cold, and she felt a sharp stab of pain- not enough to actually cut her, but enough to leave a small scratch across the back of her hand. Rifling through the meagre offerings of her childhood jewellery box, she saw what had scraped her: a simple star pendant, hanging from a cheap chain. The outside had been dipped in some sort of yellow glitter- it glinted at her in the light from her desk lamp.

She smiled to herself, trying to push the sadness aside, and locked the small chain into place on her neck.

Aimee's eighteenth birthday ended with a sigh of relief on the stroke of midnight as her last possession was packed away. 

The star pendant sparkled as she fell asleep, a year older, with nothing to show for it.