I do not own any of this besides Annalee. The rest is JK Rowlings.
Of course, my mother wrote out Hermione's resume on her acceptance letter…so typical. She didn't even think of my letter, which was even more typical. But I'd learned to forge my mother's signature in the first grade, mainly because she always forgot about me. And I mean always. She left me in a store for four hours once. Hermione wanted something in the next store over, so of course I was left behind.
The sound of my mother clearing her throat gathers my attention, and I glance up, annoyed. I already knew what was going to happen- the same thing always happened, and I just wanted them to leave already. "Hermione and I are going shopping for her new school. We'll be back at some point." Mom called as they walked towards the front door. She must have missed the fact we needed to buy uniforms.
I'm always left here. Even as I wander into the kitchen and search the cupboards, the thought plagues me. Why am I always left behind? What had I done as a child to deserve this from my own mother?
I grabbed a bag of pretzels left over from Halloween. You know those lame people who don't like to give out candy? Yeah. They would be my parents. Stupid dentists. We always have dozens of bags left over because people have learned to avoid my house. I walked into the living room and plopped onto my favorite chair. Getting comfortable, I grabbed my copy of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. This book is so easy to read, but so amazing at the same time. Every time I read it, I runaway with Claudia. I get away from the monotony of the obnoxious siblings. I started reading from the beginning, like I always do.
A while later- I don't know how much time had passed- the front door opened. I froze in my seat, wondering if it was Hermione and my mother. But my anxiety was lain to rest as I heard a voice I'd longed to hear all day speak.
"Hello? Any of my girls home? Annalee? Mary? Hermione?" My father's calls brought me out of the world of Claudia and Jamie and Michelangelo. They were about to figure out the secret of the Angel. But, oh, well. I'll most likely read it the next time Mom and Hermione go out without me.
After a moment or two, I decided not to respond to him. He was in the kitchen by now, and from the sound of it walking away from the door. Perfect. Silently, I stalked my prey. He had no idea anyone was home and it would be perfect. He walks into my sight and I lunge for my prey.
"Hi, Daddy!" I screamed as I jumped on his back.
"Annalee, you almost gave me a heart attack." He tried to look upset but he couldn't keep from laughing.The sound was wonderful, a deep chuckle that made my smile that much bigger. He picked me up and spun me around. "How's my little darling? Being good I hope. Your mother and sister are out?"
"Yeah, they went to get clothes for Hermione's new school." I couldn't help but sound a little dejected.
"Did you not want to go?" heasked softly, watching my face. "Or did they not invite you again?" He looked a little sad ashe asked about the second possibility.
"They didn't invite me." He lowered me slowly, "But I wouldn't have wanted to go anyway. I don't like shopping. You know that." I smiled trying to get him to smile. I hate it when Dad got sad.
I've always been more like my father. He is my role model. He puts up with Mom all the time. He remembers he has two kids. He's always there to make me feel better when I'm down.
It's funny really. I am very similar to how my mother was when she was in school. The nerdy, not popular type. Hermione on the other hand…well, she'd been popular and sporty.
Everybody had wanted to be Hermione. Everyone hung out around her and treated her like a god, but then the infamous 'switch' had happened. And mom had found out that Hermione was also smart. Mom made her drop her sports and focus on the extra activities that were offered when she 'became' a genius. She and I grew apart then.
And even though we're identical, by that point, we had started to look different. Her adult teeth grew in huge and gave her the appearance of a beaver. My hair tamed and curled naturally into beautiful ringlets. But that sucks for her. And this all added up made her even less popular than when she was pulled from sports. The constant attitude of 'I'm so much better than you', and 'I deserve everything' made her unpleasant to be around. Don't get me wrong, she's brilliant and better than most of the kids in school, but still, she's so…stuck up, to put it lightly.
"Want to make dinner, kiddo?" Daddy said, trying to pull me out of my thoughts.
"Sure. These pretzels are stale anyway." I started rummaging through the cupboards.
I love cooking with my dad. I love the fact he cares enough about me to do something with me. I connect with him better than anybody else. As long as I have him, I'm capable of getting through anything, and sometimes lack of anything, people throw at me.