Short Stories
CHAPTER
1
Short Story #1
Hey, DistrictRed here! I’m making a few short stories, to practice my writing. I hope you like all of them, and please keep reading!
“Jane Leven Willow! Come down here now!” My stepmom shouts, and I imagined her face turning red. Her puffy hair must be frizzier, and her glasses would be hanging off her nose.
I laughed, loud and clear. I wasn’t afraid of punishment, the only thing to fear is fear itself. “Well, you can come up here!”
My eyes traveled up to a hidden picture on the wall- the only one I kept. My family. Me, 9, with flaming red hair stuck up in all directions. My dad, smiling and has a bit of hair left on his head. My two twin brothers, 4 years old, smiling mischeviously. And my mom. The one who the lady downstairs with frizzy hair took over. Red hair like mine, but smoothed. A look in her eyes, the only one that matched mine. A look of a daredevil.
My thoughts were interuppted when my stepmom yelled, “Come down here! In 5-“
“What are you gonna do?” I taunted, mocking her. “Take away my phone? Tell my dad?“ My dad was working full-time, all we saw of him was, “Hi sweethearts,” or, “Good night sweethearts,” or, “Bye and morning sweethearts.”
I heard a moan of frustration downstairs. “I know what you did! You have to stop going out with your friends and throwing eggs at people’s houses!”
Rotten eggs!”
I rolled my eyes, doing a facepalm. A frustrated groan escaped my lips. She always gets her facts wrong. The only person’s house we threw rotten eggs at was Nina Fairfield. The sweet and innocent girl who had been a tattletale since we met in preschool. It was fun to see her crying, her face
red.
“Rotten eggs! Who cares! 4!”
“3!” I replied, twirling a lock of my wavy red hair carelessly.
“3! Come down here!”
“I already said 3!”
“2! You’re getting a really bad punishment if you don’t come down!”
“1! BLAST OFF!”
“1!”
I heard stomping, each stomp echoing through the room.
I threw off my headphones, and covered my ears, pretending her stomps were killing my ears. “Geez, lady! No need for a temper tantrum!”
I placed my headphones on my head again, listening to the loud music echoing through my head.
She reached my room, panting. Her fat body moved with each huge breath she took, and I found it hard not to laugh. “It’s only a few steps. You should lose some weight.”
She lost it. She stomped her foot like an angry horse, then ripped off my headphones. She threw them across the room, but I only raised my eyebrow.
“I. HAVE HAD. ENOUGH. WITH. YOUR. ATTITUDE!” She yelled. I pretended to cover my ears, cringing.
“I am your mother! You dare treat me like this! I give you food, take care of you, but you do nothing but be so... RUDE and treat me like an ENEMY! I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY! I AM JUST TRYING TO HELP! BUT NOOOOOO, YOU JUST SIT AROUND LISTENING TO THOSE MUSIC ALL DAY, WATCHING LOUD YOUTUBE VIDEOS, OR, RUIN EVERYTHING! YOU RIPPED UP THE IMPORTANT PRINCIPAL’S DOCUMENTS! MISS STARLED’S ACADEMY FOR GIRLS WAS A PERFECT SCHOOL FOR YOU! YOU COULD LEARN DISCIPLINE FOR ONCE! OH, AND YOU ACCIDENTALLY DANCED ON THE BANK WHILE IT WAS ON FIRE! YOU’RE SO DEFIANT, MEAN, WHINY, AND ARROGANT!
She finished, her face tomato red, her face looking like she might kill someone.
“Okay,” I said, putting my hands up. She calmed down, but only slightly. “I surrender. But first of all, Starled’s is not a good school for me. It’s full of rich girly girls who dress up in dresses and act so happy and smart. Also, listening to music is good, isn’t it? Anyway, you’re calling me defiant, mean, whiny, arrogant? I am mean, and arrogant, I know that. But whiny? No. I am defiant, but I am standing up for myself. You’ve treated me like a baby ever since you’ve lived here. So we both have our problems. Got it?”
There was a silence. A long, very long, silence.
...
...
...
“Jane.” She whispered, looking at me. “Jane.”
I glanced at her, my back facing her. I didn’t know if she was going to yell at me again. I knew we both calmed, though. “Yeah?”
“I-I—I’m sorry.”
I opened my mouth, but she interuppted me. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you.”
I laughed. “But they were true.”
She gave me a half-hearted smile. “Yes, okay, but they were rude.”
I started to stand up, but she motioned me to sit down. A little daredevil crept into me. What was it now? I was getting hungry.
“But,” She paused. “There’s a difference of being plain rude and standing up for yourself. You’ve crossed that line, and that’s not good. Can you please, just try to be a little good for now?”
I bit my lip. I am a daredevil. I am free. I bit my lip harder. “Fine.”
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