Hello there. My name's Keira Ann Rose Klarkson Darling. I am the second oldest of my family, and somewhat proud to say the most difficult to deal with. I am currently fourteen years of age, and turning fifteen in just a few months. My father, and mother alongside with my grandmother are currently trying to convince me to enjoy my life here in London. Personally, I hate it. I wasn't brought up here, you see. I was brought up in beautiful Ireland with my great-grandmother.
My great-grandmother is my only family. She is the only one that understands me, and the only one I am willing enough to open up to. She's forgiving, and she is the only grandmother I've heard of that tells so many great stories to her grandchildren. Great-grandmother Darling taught me everything I know, and some of the things she knows. She taught me to always follow my heart, and to never give up. She told me it's all right to stay a child forever, and that it is our choice whether we want to grow up or not. I don't want to grow up. I chose not to.
Within a few months time I shall turn fifteen, and be declared a young woman. I don't want to grow up! I don't want be a woman. I'm quite content, and happy just being a child. To never have to face life's difficulties as an adult, and to never have to worry about anything much more complicating than: Who ate the rest of my cookie dough ice cream?! This, however…Is not in my power. As soon as I turn fifteen, mother shall send me to an all girls' boarding school to be manipulated and brainwashed into someone I'm not. Into an adult. A grown-up. A "lady" who has forgotten much of being a child, and all of childhood's wonderful advantages.
"Keir, you shan't be so sad about growing up!" my dear sister Mai told me once "Think about it! Growing up, and having all those advantages! You get to drive like father, and learn how to cook those wonderful desserts like mother!"
Although I knew she meant to cheer me up, I still could not help but bawl my eyes out on my pillow. That night my mother had given me my forms to Roedean School. Roedean was my grandmother's idea. My application, and semester was to start two weeks after my birthday, and I just couldn't stand the thought of being away from my dear sister who I've become so close to. Roedean was an all girls' school here in London. I didn't want to go. They can't make me go!
"I don't want to go!" I yelled at mother
"Oh Keira," my mother pleaded, "please don't make this anymore difficult than it already is."
"That's just what you want isn't it?" I screamed at her with rage and with large tears forming in my eyes, "To send me off to some boarding school, and to never see my face ever again! You never loved me! You, father, nor grandmother! You should've left me happy in Ireland!"
Then I ran up the stairs never looking back. Mother tried chasing after me, but I had headed straight for the bathroom, and locked myself in. I set myself down across our marbled sink, and wrapped my arms around my legs. There I cried like a child I was. I cried for what seemed like forever. After half an hour inside our bathroom, I had washed my face and decided to take a shower to wash off all the salt. From time to time I would hear my baby sister Mai knock on the door, and ask if I was all right. I didn't speak to her. I couldn't speak to anyone.
After taking my shower, everyone was already set up for dinner, and the clanging of plates and glass cups were dancing in our dining room. I could smell the food mother had cooked. She had cooked my favorite meal for tonight. I bet it's only for the reason that she knows she had upset me a few hours before. She had cooked honey-roasted ham, alongside mash potatoes mixed with garlic and other herbs. I could also smell her freshly cooked biscuits, and the slight scent of the sweet cranberry pie on the counter.
I didn't want to eat. I just didn't feel like it. With my towel wrapped around my drenched body, I rushed to my room two doors down to the right, and closed the door behind me. After unraveling my towel, I quickly dried my body off, and picked out my cotton plaid pajamas. Soon after, I dried my hair, and combed it while sitting in front of my dresser. While combing my hair, I thought of one of great-grandmother's stories. The one including lost boys, and a young man named Peter Pan. She had told me there had been a statue of him somewhere in London, and I should set a time to visit it one day. The garden was called Kensington Gardens.
"Keira Ann," I heard my brother Charles, "are you eating dinner?"
"No Charles." I replied, "I'm heading to bed…"
"All right then," he signed, "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."