Love is Stupid

Chapter One: Kissing boys

 
 
 
Not edited

    Her head of tangled red hair was bent as she punched buttons on the calculator. Moving her head gingerly, she looked from the calculator back to a big textbook that was strewn on her bed. A line formed between her brows and her pretty mouth twisted in a frown.

   "Argg, " She cried as she threw both the calculator and the textbook across the room. They hit a bean bag that was covered in pink flowers and landed with a quiet thud, the pages of the book turning upside down.

  She looked at it like it was a poisonous ivy, wishing her eyes could burn the book down. But it stayed open and she could swear that it was mocking her. Goody pushed herself off the bed, deciding to pretend the book wasn't there even if she knew that she would go running back to it in a minute.

   When she stood up, the creamed coloured oversized t-shirt that she had on, fell over her hips and stopped mid-thigh. Using the back of her hand to cover her mouth that was wide in a yawn, she pushed her duck styled uggs out of the way and made her way out of the room. Since maths wasn't working, she decided that food may just be the answer. It has been hours since dinner and she always got hungry when she read. Especially a few minutes after midnight.

   Goody's bare feet made little noise as she walked to the kitchen. She didn't like the idea of waking up her sister, Charlotte or her mom or dad, or any other person that she forgot to mention. She shivered and turned back instinctively to look behind her. Quickening her steps, she raced to the kitchen. She had always been afraid of walking around the house at midnight or the early hours of the morning. Having read too many books, it had led her into believing that time was the Witching hour. And no matter how much she loved Harry Potter and books and movies of its sort, she wasn't too delighted at the idea of witches dancing in the hallways at midnight.

    She released her withheld breathe and all but threw herself into the kitchen when she saw the bulb was on and her mother, removing a tray from the oven.

   Goody's mother was as usual in her apron, experimenting. She had her chestnut hair in a ponytail behind her head and her eyes were shining in exhaustion. She smiled when she noticed her daughters presence, proceeding to place a new set of shaped batter into the oven.

   Betty Robinson is— was a chef. She used to be one before she quit and decided that making recipes was more comfortable with her. The decorator in her designed the kitchen too. It was big enough to dance salsa in it. There was a counter of oak wood, strong and shaped like a bean in the centre of the kitchen. She had placed the refrigerator, the sink and others in a way that would allow fluid movements.
     The other side of the kitchen had a glass door. This door led to a little garden she had started for herbs and vegetables. Most times after a little drizzle the herbs let out different scents that just propelled you. Goody often found herself in the solitude.

   "So you are still awake?" She said in a smoothly sharp voice as she turned to face her daughter.

   Having conquered her fear, Goody shrugged, opening the fridge and getting out a bottle of Apple juice, "Maths is killing me, mom. And it's even worse, I have a test tomorrow."

   Betty chuckled at her daughter's tune, "Why wouldn't it? You've been studying it even before dinner. All work and no play makes Goody a dull girl."

   "You don't understand. I got a D on my last test, " Her daughter's nose scrunch as if she had just seen something under the sink. "A 'D' mom. How am I ever supposed to cover that up? I'm never getting that again."

   Betty rolled her eyes but they still held great concern for her first daughter. She thought that it was great, excellent in fact, having a daughter as smart as Goody but sometimes it was also scary. "I understand that you want to go to Harvard like your father but you have to take a break."