Hey guys! I know, I know, I haven't updated in like, a year, and I apologize to the few people who actually clicked on this story. I promise, my writing's got a lot better, and I've got the plot worked out. I'm introducing a new character in this chapter; The one who embodies my emotions, and my sensitivity : Charlotte Jackson.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world...

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I groaned and slammed my hand into the button of my alarm clock. It's face read 5:47 am. I groaned again and started to rub the sleep out of my eyes. "Why does school have to start so early?"

"Charlie! Get up, or your breakfast is going to get cold!" Mom called from downstairs. I could hear the muffled sound of a frypan at work doing what it does guessed it. Frying things.

"I'm coming!" I called back to my mother jumping out of bed and surveying the mess of my room for my grey school uniform. As usual, it was nowhere to be found among the piles of clothes, textbooks (that's right. PILES OF TEXTBOOKS) and junk (aka textbooks). I let out a sigh and started to dig around in the mess.

I really should clean this up sometime soon I thought as I separated more textbooks from a mound of clothes. After a few more minutes of searching, I uncovered my uniform from under a heap of t-shirts and shorts. It was badly wrinkled from being stuck down there, but not that it mattered. I never really cared.

After getting changed and attempting to tame the wild side of my jet black waves, I raced down the red carpeted stairs only to nearly crash into a tiny figure dressed in grey with a shock gold hair .

"Damien!" I shouted indignantly. "Stop going down the middle of the stairs! You know what could happen if I crashed into you!"

He frowned and said "Your shirt is wrinkled."

You could say that Damien and I were polar opposites. He loved school. I hated it. He was a neat person. I was a messy unorganized one. His vision sucked (hence the thick black spectacles). Mine was perfect. His golden blond hair was perfectly combed every morning (and managed to stay that way) while mine was black maelstrom of knots and curls. But I still loved him anyways, even though it may never look that way.

"C'mon bro." I said. "Give me a chance would ya?"

He shrugged. "Fine by me." He started to head down the stairs towards the kitchen. Halfway down, he turned back to look at me and said "By the way, you should really brush you hair."

Then he took off as fast as his little pathetic feet would take him while I shouted his name and ten thousand death threats to the little demon.

I guess it bears repeating. Damien loved to annoy me.

I came sliding down the stair banister in search for the little douche I called brother, not giving a damn if my skirt got wrinkled (or bloody) in the process.

I entered the living room, which was extremely homey, especially counting the bright sea green carpeting and stormy grey highlights on the walls. Mom was a stay at home architect, and designed the rooms. I had a feeling that the floor carpet and grey walls had something to do with the shade of my parent's eyes. They matched the colour scheme perfectly.

We had a decent sized entertainment centre that came with a Wii and Xbox, but heck, those consoles were old. You would think that in this beautiful year of 20XX, Dad would've gotten one of the newer virtual reality sets that came with Cry of War, or Desk Job, but noooo, he HAD to stick with the retro sets from 'his time'.

I checked for my brother behind the curtains that led to a balcony, but he wasn't there. I took a moment to open the balcony, then pried the lock open with my fingers and tugged the sliding door open. I took a step outside and the wind greeted my presence by ruffling up my hair to the point to where it would never be tidy, much like the way my father greeted me whenever I saw him.

I looked down at the busy streets of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Even at 6 o'clock in the morning, the streets were buzzing with life. Hawker stalls sold breakfast and the mamaks were baking naan while well clothed businessmen sat at tables and sipped teh tarik. All around me, other red bricked condominiums rose out of the ground, much like the very one I lived in.

But alas, my mission to find the scumbag I was related to failed, partly due to the reason that I was hungry, and that I would give up bringing vengeance to my brother for food.

I strolled into the dining room, breathing in the yummy aroma of fresh fried rice, and wondering where Damien was. I heard the faintest of giggles coming from left of me. I turned and looked, and I can tell you the glare coming from my soul's windows was not pretty. The little demon was sitting at the head of the table, shoving rice into his mouth and looking triumphant at the fact that I had failed to find and murder him.

I scowled. "Look here, you foul little…" I was about to stroll up to him and beat the snot out of his puny being, then drown him in a pool of his own-

"Happy Birthday Charlie!" I jumped in surprise, then promptly introduced my palm to my forehead. It takes an ADHD girl like me to forget that today was the day that I was turning thirteen.

Mom set me down in one of the chairs, and pushed a plate of food in front of me while Dad ruffled my hair, effectively making it more untameable than it already was. Not that I really cared though. I just wanted to eat. I started shovelling fried rice into my mouth, and my tongue would've sat up and sang if it possibly could.

"Love ya hon." Dad grinned.

I gave a muffled 'thank you' as best as I could, since my mouth was full. A bit of chewing and a glass of iced tea later, I managed to clear my plate completely.

I took a deep breath and leaned back into the chair, satisfied with the meal.

"Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad." I said, before I picked up my iced tea glass and started crunching on an ice cube.

"We still have another surprise, you know." Dad's eyes twinkled. Mom barely hid her wide smile.

I cracked a piece of ice between my teeth. "Mm?" I didn't really care about gifts. I was pretty content with the food.

"Oh, you are going to love this." If Dad was any younger, I would've bet on a happy dance.

"I wouldn't." Damien said. Mom shot him a dirty look. He shrugged it off, and reached for a second helping of food.

I glanced up, and my eyes found the clock. It was now 6:45 am, about time to leave for school, which started at 7:00 am (School ends at 4. We suffer.).

"I guess the surprise is going to have to wait." I said, starting to get up.

"But that is the surprise." Mom said.

"Wait what?"

Dad finally burst. "Birthday girls don't have to go to school!"

My jaw went slack. My eyes widened. My heart started to pound, and my head swam, Dad's words repeating themselves in my brain.

Birthday girls don't have to go to school.

That day, I thought I'd be curled up in the couch watching old re-runs of Steven Universe. I didn't think that Mom would tell me that.

Worst. Birthday. Gift. EVER.

Ah, minor cliffies. I love writing them XD. Tell me if you loved it, tell me if it sucked, I don't really care. JK. I care a lot.