Cigarettes, Rebels And Me, #1 ✔

Chapter 1 - Are You Deaf Or Something?

.Chapter 1 - Are You Deaf Or Something?.

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(Last edited: 12/02/2016)

The most wonderful and resourceful thing to do on a peaceful summer afternoon is to drag a mini fan to your bedroom to give your legs and face all the cool air; then grab one of your favourite books off the bookshelf, and finally pour yourself a glass of lemonade with ice cubes - the glass decorated with an umbrella, a slice of lemon and a pink straw.

With your legs spread out in front of you, you read the book held in your hand contentedly, trying to slow down the movement of the cool liquid slipping down your throat.

Call me old fashioned, but this is what I enjoy doing.

And this is what I am doing.

My ears ringing with the silence in the house and a small smile on my face, I sit on a brown coloured bean bag at the foot of my bed, reading page after page of a book I had borrowed from the local library. There is no one in the house and I have been reading peacefully in my room for the last thirty minutes, without the annoying sweat lines running down my neck or back. There is no noisy brother of mine loitering about the house with heavy metal music playing loudly in his room, the sole excuse for high volume being that he'd be able to hear it anywhere in the house.

Two minutes later, as though someone jinxed my thoughts, the sound of a door being banged open downstairs reaches my ears; the house is immediately filled with scrambling noises and male laughter. The horrible smell of sweat penetrates my nose, making me cringe.

From the amount of noises being heard upstairs, I'm sure it is not a gang of thieves, but my brother and his friends who must be back from their little game of basketball in a small court in the neighbourhood. Usually they don't come back so early and I haven't prepared anything to fill the endless pits of their stomachs.

Both my parents being full-time dentists, being dependent on them for anything had never been much of an option for me and my siblings, but that did not mean that I didn't like to pamper my older brother occasionally.

One stomach is more than enough to satisfy, but cooking food for five males is not what I would sign up for.

"Ella, food!" calls my brother from somewhere outside, and I sigh; I am in the middle of reading a very interesting book and I'm not ready to haul my butt to the kitchen just to make food for the hungry lads.

Shouting pointlessly at the door, I say, "Cameron, please go and buy something. I'm not cooking anything for you."

There's no response for a few moments, and then a head pops in my room, followed by the body of my brother who's wearing a sleeveless Lakers jersey and basketball shorts. Tousling his wet hair a little, he pleads, "Please. The guys are hungry."

My brother makes an adorable face, trying to coax me into cooking for him. When usually I would've obliged, I just don't feel up to serving today.

I keep my book upside down on my lap and say, "Listen Cam, I can't always cook for you; I have things to do too."

"Like what?" He raises his eyebrows, glancing towards the movable ventilator standing staunchly beside me.

"I'm reading," I answer a little defensively, knowing that this answer won't stop him from pestering me.