Ch. 1

Beep. Beep. Beep. I groaned and rolled over, shutting off the alarm. I did not want to wake up today, but I stretched and got up anyway, then stumbled to the bathroom bleary-eyed and grabbed a quick shower. I came back to my room awake and put on some music. Jazz filled the air. An odd choice for a teenager, I know, but my mom had always had jazz or big band playing and after she died I couldn't stand the silence, having the music on made her seem closer somehow.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a fitted tee, then quickly did my makeup. Looking at myself in the mirror, I sighed. I was no beauty, that was certain. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I thought I was ugly or anything, but anyone could see I was plain. I had straight, black hair, narrow eyes and a broad face, although makeup helped, it wasn't a miracle worker. I was thin, but by no means skinny, sports weren't really my thing. I slipped into a pair of flats and grabbed a few chunky bracelets before snagging my messenger bag on the way out. I was halfway down the hall, when I stopped short and hurried back to my room. I picked up some of my mom's necklaces and put them on. Now I was ready.

I opened my sister's door on the way to the kitchen and peeked in. Of course, she was still asleep. I went in.

"Amber" I said, no response, "Come on, get up. I know you can hear me." still nothing. "Amber if you don't get up now, I will sing" I said forcefully.

"Alright, alright, I'm up, don't sing." She said groggily, still under the covers.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you are. Come on, you don't want to be late."

"Not like it would kill me to be late every once in a while." She mumbled under her breath as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

I smiled and closed the door, continuing on my quest for nourishment.

Once in the kitchen, I dropped my bag and played one of my mom's favorite cds, then raided the fridge and bit into a peach. I was nearly finished when Amber came down still half asleep. She grabbed a bowl of cereal and plopped down at the table. She looked fantastic, like always. I was pretty certain she got all of the beautiful genes in our family, or at least that was half the reason. I had formed a theory that the other half of the reason she looked great was that as an aspiring photographer, she was generally aware of appearances.

I threw away my peach pit and headed to the bathroom to apply my makeup. Before long, Amber joined me.

"Hey Kim"

"Yeah"

"I'm going over to Tiff's after school and sleeping over."

"Okay, what time will you be back?"

"Somewhere between 2 and 4"

"Alright," I finished my makeup. "You have 5 minutes before I leave." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there, I always am."

"One of these days, you're going to be late and you won't have a ride to school." I said with mock seriousness.

"Sure" she said smiling and turned back to the mirror, knowing I would never actually do it.

Out in my car, I turned on the radio and waited for amber. She wasn't long and soon we were on our way to school. In the parking lot Amber turned to me with mischief sparkling in her eyes.

"I notice Jared's car isn't here today Kim. Wherever could he be?" She asked with fake innocence.

I rolled my eyes and looked back at the road. I admit my crush on Jared last year was a little over the top, and she never lost a chance to tease me about it.

"Your guess is as good as mine." I answered.

"You should hear the rumors going around." She said. "Some people say it was a family emergency, others think he has mono, a few are even saying he was arrested."

I laughed at that one, but it just shows what people will do for something to talk about in a small town.

We headed into the school and I went to my locker, spending as much time as I could getting my books. This was the worst part of the day; everyone got into their little groups and talked till the bell rang. I mean, I didn't mind being a loner, I preferred it, but not being part of a "group" I had to stand there awkwardly with nothing to do, unless I wanted to go to class early like a suck-up or teacher's pet.

Eventually the bell rang and headed off to home room. I tried to pay attention and take notes in class, but the day passed as a boring blur. It dragged on for what seemed like forever. Finally the last bell rang and I was free to leave. I climbed into my beat up Camry and headed home. Once there, I finished up the little homework I had left and started dinner. I was just finishing up when my dad got home.

"Hey Dad, dinner is almost ready."

"Alright," He said absently then went to the living room and watched TV, barely acknowledging me.

"I quickly finished dinner and called my dad into eat.

Dinner was a silent affair, no surprise there. It was over almost before it started and I was left with the dishes after Dad left the house. I felt tears begin to overflow onto my cheeks and wiped them away determinedly. I had cried over this enough already. You'd think I would have learned by now, but every time my dad refused to look me in the eye, every time he ignored Amber or me, I felt a pang in my heart. I missed my dad. Losing Mom had been hard on us all, she was the glue that held our family together, without her we fell apart. By checking out of life, we not only lost Mom, but Dad as well. Before the accident he was always cracking corny jokes no one else found funny, he did things with Amber and I, he was all around a great dad. Now he wouldn't even look at us because of our resemblance to her. He wasn't even home most of the time because there was no room in the house you could go into without seeing her. Her personality was reflected in the contrasting colors, the paintings on the walls: she had put her special touch in every room as she decorated; the eclectic items on display portrayed the different aspects of her personality. She was truly one of a kind, and when she left, there was a huge hole that nothing could even come close to filling.

I put the last dish away and went to the art studio. This was the room I felt reflected her the most. It was here that she had spent most of the time, there were paintings, drawings, sketches and photographs made by her everywhere. It was something of an organized mess. There was a dark room in one corner, paintings scattered here and there, finished and unfinished, and a wall covered in shelves full of supplies.

I browsed through the shelves and selected the paints I wanted, then pulled out my most recent painting and set to work.