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   LIFE has always been a struggle for Eleanor, even when she was a little girl. She was always either getting into trouble or being the one that caused trouble. The phrase, "Getting somewhere in life," never actually made any sense to her until she got older.

Maybe it came with maturity, no one really knows, but Eleanor stopped being the kid that acted out and, one day, she just grew up. Now, at the age of seventeen, she tries to make her life as great as it could possibly get. She has ups and downs and bumps, but she gets through them and continues to live.

The one thing that she never understood, and what is still imperfect in her life today, is her father. He has never shown any kindness towards her, and when she wants affection from him, he ignores her and shows it to Lucy. It's like she doesn't even exist to him, and she'll never understand why.

Creeping down the hallway with quiet steps, Eleanor lifts her hands up to her head, and tries flattening down her nasty bed hair. Squinting her eyes as she walks into the living room, she looks around and sees Fred lying on the couch, his front side facing the couch cushions.

Rolling her eyes, she pops her back and walks over to him. "Hey," she mutters, kicking him in the shoulder with her foot. "Fred, wake up," she shoves him, causing him to sit up with a worried expression.

"What's wrong?" He questions, furrowing his eyebrows with worry.

"Nothing," she states, "except for the fact that you're sleeping on the couch and not your bed, and mom gets up in about," she looks over at the clock hanging on the wall, "five minutes."

His eyes widen, and he jolts up. "Um, okay," he starts to pace around, his feet hitting the ground in loud stomps. "If I hurry into my bedroom, I could possibly pretend like I just got up and got ready super early," he says, starting to form ideas. He suddenly stops, "they'll know what I was wearing yesterday, so nevermind," he continues to stomp on the floor.

Crossing her arms over her chest in amusement, Eleanor walks into the kitchen, not bothering to tell him to just go to his bedroom and get in the shower. "What do you want for breakfast?" She purposely asks loudly.

Fred doesn't answer her for few seconds, but when he does, he whispers. "Three chocolate pancakes, please," he says, poking his head through the kitchen archway. 

"Okay," she mutters, crouching down to get a pan out from the cabinet. "Fluffy or thin?" She questions, turning a knob on the oven.

El's brother shushes her, causing her to roll her green eyes at him. "You be quiet. I'm making you breakfast," she reminds him, sitting the pan on top of the oven.

"Well, I don't want mom to hear your loud mouth," he snaps, trudging into the kitchen. Lucy follows after him, rubbing her blue eyes to get the sleepy out.

"Your loud mouth caused me to wake up. I doubt that mom isn't already up," she states, pulling herself up on the counter top next to the sink. "Are you making pancakes?" She asks El.

"Yeah, you want some?" Eleanor replies, grabbing a spoon from the drawer. She starts mixing the batter, a few splatters of the mixture hitting the marble counter top.

Fred's eyes widen. "Are you forreal? I just woke up. What am I supposed to do?" He questions, suddenly becoming panicked.

Eleanor gives him a look. "Just go change your clothes, doofus," she tells him, pouring the batter into the pan.

"What's he fretting over?" Lucy inquires, raising a curious eyebrow.

"I don't know. I woke up a minute ago and walked into the living room to see him sprawled out on the couch. I guess he's worried that he'll get caught for sneaking out," she remarks.

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