The Girl With Different Colour Eyes
1I threw my black school bag against the far wall. It watched as it settled itself on the floor, quivering from impact. The vase on the table wobbled precariously but didn’t fall.
“Stacey!” roared a voice from the depths of the house.
I rolled my eyes, grabbed a glass of orange juice, a slice of toast and sat down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen bench.
I had swallowed the last mouthful of toast when a sound of heels clicking against the tiles told me that my mother was coming. Soon she appeared next to me, a tired look the bright green eyes I hated. She was wearing a beige coloured suit with her favourite black pumps.
“How was your day?” she asked politely, biting into an apple from the fruit bowl.
I shrugged and chugged down the last of my juice.
“Got any homework?” she tried again.
I shrugged again. Wasn’t the answer obvious? Who came home from school without homework?
“I’m going for a meeting and I won’t be home until late so don’t wait up.”
“Like I would anyway,” I muttered under my breath, so soft my mother only glanced at me, her expression not acknowledging what I said.
“If you want, ask Brendan or someone over to keep you company.”
“Why would I ask my brother over to keep me company?” I asked at normal conversation level, a slight sneer to my voice.
“Your brother is your family, Stacey,” my mother’s voice took on the stern tone that she used when she was angry with me.
“Family, schfamily,” I muttered, getting up and stomping up the stairs. She should know better than anybody else how dysfunctional families could be.
I slammed my bedroom door as hard as I could so that my mother would know not to come and bother me again. I looked around.
I could see the black paint covering my walls cracking at the corners, the baby pink paint underneath peeping through. The black desk in the corner was crammed full of books and the black laptop was humming on hibernate. My black quilt was bundled on the bottom of my bed, revealing the dark grey sheets underneath.
I pulled off my black hoodie and placed in on the back of my study chair. Putting my earphones in, I switched on my iPod and sat on the floor, leaning against my bed. I grabbed the closest book, one of the many that had fallen off my desk and began to read. Pride and Prejudice. Who wasn’t a fan of the classics?
After a while, I became bored, I’d read the book so many time, so I switched off my iPod and glanced at the clock. I decided to do my maths homework for half an hour and then go and finish the rest at Brendan’s café. On principle, I hated public places, but Brendan and his girlfriend Olivia, had bought this small café to earn some money and it hardly got any customers except those who lived within two blocks. So, for someone like me who adored peace and quiet, it was perfect.
Thirty five minutes later, I donned the sunglasses I always wore outside, grabbed my hoodie and my bag and walked to my brother’s café. A Piece of Heaven, it was called. Such a lame name.
The door dinged as I opened it. Olivia was wiping down tables and my brother was lounging around behind the counter. There was only one man in a tweed coat sitting on one of the far tables. I sat down in one of the corner tables and asked Olivia for a hot chocolate. I spread my books out on the table in front of me and began to work.
I didn’t understand why people hated school. It wasn’t amusing or fun, but it was a place of learning and I for one found learning interesting. I also didn’t understand why people complained about homework, it wasn’t any bother to me.
I sipped my hot chocolate and calmly set about working. A mother came in with her two kids. They took one look at me and turned away. I guess the sunglasses really turn people off.
Next a businessman, in what was easily a hundred dollar suit, walked in and order coffee for several people. Then a young girl, maybe around ten, came in with her little brother. Her little brother stared at me, possibly wondering why I was wearing sunglasses inside. Well, at least they weren’t off, he’d be staring even more.
The next visitor caught my attention. It was a boy, no older than sixteen. Therefore, he was my age. He had sandy blond hair, curls that were flopping lazily over his forehead. When he entered, he looked around. As he glanced at me, his sparkling blue eyes seemed to glow with curiosity and the corner of his mouth turned up. My eyes widened, but of course, he wouldn’t see that, they were hidden behind my sunglasses. He was possibly, the best looking guy I’d seen. Ever.