Storm's POV
Saturday Morning
Sleeping in is the best! It feels great not having an annoying alarm to wake me up at half past six in the morning! When I roll over to check the time on my bedside clock, it reads:
10:31
The house is so quiet that you could hear a pin drop! Sitting up, through my window, I watch birds of the colours bright pink, dirty orange, sea-blue and dark green perch on the sturdy branches of our apple tree. I chuckle as some of these creatures peck at the unripe apples hanging opposite them. When my friends are around, I pretend, just like them, to not take an interest in nature and just chatter and use technology though there's a secret wish inside of me wanting to explore the beauty of the earth.
I shuffle in my hot pink slippers across the landing and down the stairs. River, hair ruffled and eyes droopy, is eating Cheerios on the sofa, watching BBC News.
"Where's Mum and Dad?" I ask, cringing at the sound of a spoon banging against a bowl.
"Work," River answers in a monotone, eyes still fixed on the news reporter.
"They're supposed to be off on weekends," I complain as I saunter to the kitchen.
"And they were supposed to go buy food," I add after browsing through the very little breakfast options.
I settle for half a packet of Oreos and I bring an almost finished jar of peanut butter to the available spot on the sofa next to River.
"Yuck! Please don't do what I think you're going to do," River pleads, shielding her eyes.
I twist the lid off the jar and my other hand creeps into the packet of Oreos, bringing one out.
"Please, Storm! No!" my older sister begs, a bit more desperate now.
Too late! The Oreo has been dipped into the peanut butter.
Next to me, River's doing gagging noises.
"Shush! Let me enjoy my breakfast in peace!" I hush her through a mouthful of peanut butter and an Oreo.
"That's not breakfast, hun," River criticises, grimacing," It's an insult to the creator of Oreos and the creator of peanut butter."
"No! It's a compliment, hun."
"You wish."
River stares at the TV screen intently.
"Since when did you watch the news?" I question.
My big sister never watches the news(something we have in common).
"Have you ever felt like you've seen someone on TV, specifically in a certain film or programme and when you try to look for them on telly, you can't find them?"
What is she talking about?
"Sorry, sis. But, I understand English," I reply.
"You wouldn't understand," River mutters.
"Yeah, I totally don't!"
A silence that is only disturbed by the people talking on TV, River's spoon banging against the bowl and the munching of our teeth hangs over us. I clear my throat.
"I'm going to a party later," I state because it's the only thing I could think of to say.
"OK. Just remember your curfew," River responds.
"You sound old."
"I do not!"
"And you look old, too."
YOU ARE READING
THE PAINFUL TRUTH
General Fiction'Our greatest challenge isn't speaking up against our enemies, but defying those whose approval we seek the most'. Storm Jackson is a thirteen-year-old girl who everybody envies. She's smart, popular and pretty, with well-off parents and a big house...
