Broken Girls And Broken Boys

Chapter One: I'm a sucker for a cutie with a dimple.

I hear the moving van before I see it; it's followed by a Mercedes that looks rather expensive despite the old make. The loud beeping sound it makes reversing is enough to cause my head to pounding heavily. I groan and shuffle closer to the window in my room to get a closer look despite how the noise is drilling its way into my brain.

The truck moves forward and parks  in the driveway of the house next to mine. I sigh inaudibly pull the net curtain down to obscure me from view. At least I won't have to exchange polite conversation with Fanny, the old lady who once lived there.

Wonder what happened to her. Probably moved in with the old geezer across the road. I'm glad. At least I won't be woken up by those strange noises in the night.

I swear she did voodoo.

I shudder at the memory and pull away from the curtain to brush off the memory and the pounding of my head.

You never know, maybe she cursed me. 

"Kendall!" my mum shouts; it's followed by a loud crash and a curse so violent I shudder again. Chuckling to myself, I follow the burning smell coming from the kitchen unsure what mess I may find- not that it'll be worse than my kitchen disasters.

When I enter, I can't help but stare. There is flour strewn across the counters, along with pots and pans and thick black smoke is pouring out of the cooker. My mum is hanging over the machine with a frying pan in her hand, though I can't see how it will be much help fixing it.

She can't of heard me enter because she turns around, screams and almost hits me with the pan. I roll my eyes and stifle a smirk. She runs a hand through her messy bed hair and turns to the oven once more. "The cooker's broken again. Stupid piece of shit!" she screams, launching her foot into the oven door with a cry of fury. The machine gurgles, clearly not impressed with her frustration and then a large cloud of soot engulfs us.

I cough into the smoke and wipe my face as my mum holds her foot with a pout. "I can't afford to get another one!" she says, a look of annoyance washing over her features. I pull a sad smile onto my face and embrace her in a hug.

"Look, I'll ask Tony if I can do a couple more shifts at the cafe so we can get it fixed," I offer but my mum shakes her head. I roll my eyes.

"I think someone's moving in next door," I comment, swiftly changing the subject so she she'll forget about my offer to pull in some more shifts at work. I can't promise that I won't be calling my boss tonight.

My mother turns away from the kitchen with wide eyes and stares at the mess all around us. "What! But I haven't got anything to give them!" she shouts, rummaging through our bare cupboards. She hands me a bar of Oreo chocolate which is five months out of date and pushes me away from the kitchen.

"Get dressed and give this to them!" she ushers me up the stairs before returning to the kitchen where more crashes and bangs echo through the house. I throw the chocolate onto my bed and wash out the soot before pulling a ratty jumper over my pyjama trousers, desperate to get this over and done with.

When I've tied my hair in a knot, I turn to the present I'm supposed to give them.

Out of date chocolate doesn't exactly say 'welcome to our street!' does it?

More like: Hello, now die!

Can you imagine me in prison?

'Hi my name's Kendall. I'm here because I killed some people with gone- off food.'

I'm basically a mass murderer!

But the present is my mum's way of welcoming the new neighbours and it would be rude to not to give them anything. So I take the chocolate- I doubt it'll be eaten anyway.