Shadows

[1]

"Danger within 20 miles my mind tells me.
Hide or ignore?
I'm just at home with my best friend, all the doors are locked. Nothing is really going to happen.
My mind taps the ignore button inside my danger notification bar.
Danger now within 19 miles
I ignore again.
"Idony? Are you ok?" Thalia, my best friend, asks me,
"I'm fine, I just didn't get enough sleep last night." I shrug,
"Me neither." She groans, "I can't believe we had to do a science test in those conditions. I definitely failed."
"Same." I agree.
!!Danger now within 10 miles!!
I keep ignoring the notifications. I'm a little bit more worried, danger is approaching. And it seems to be approaching quickly. But I still ignore.
Thalia doesn't even know that I get a notification when danger is nearby, so how would she react to me forcing her to hide?
"I should probably go home," My friend tells me, "My parents will want me home soon."
My own parents died in a fire two years after I was born. I'm fourteen now, my sister is twenty-two and we live together in her house.
"Ok. See you tomorrow," I smile at her.
"See you!" She grins and leaves.
I lock the door behind her, just in case.
!!Danger in 8 miles!!
Ignore." Our teacher reads. This is my story. I wrote it. Everyone is staring at Bella and grinning, the whispers of it being hers started as soon as it began.
My name is Nala Rose, I am fourteen. I taught myself how to write. Bella is my best friend. We both love writing stories, but she's more confident in her writing and will let more people read it. She'll recommend her stories to people. But I can't do this. People  know I write stories.... Maybe. But, even if they do know, they don't think I'm good at it because they've never read any. Everyone is looking at Bella, whispering about 'her' story. The only person who has read my stories is Bella. And hers are always going to be better than mine. I mean, what's the point in a story that nobody reads?
Call me a pessimist, but you know that she's a better writer. She obviously is, seeing as people actually read her work.
Finally, after forty five long minutes of people listening to my story and saying it's Bella's, English class is over. Let break time commence.
I pick up my backpack and shove my pencil case in it then grab my coat and start to go outside.
"Nala! Nala, wait for me!" Bella calls to me, attempting to escape the crowd of adoring fans that love my work whenever it's read out and yet think it's hers.
I love Bella, she's my best friend, I really do. It's just this feeling of sadness that's always there.
"Hi, Nala!" She appears at my elbow,
"Hi." I say,
"Why didn't you wait? I was calling you." She asks,
"Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you." I lie.
"It's winter, you know. We should probably stay inside and go to games club." Bella says,
"Good idea. It's got better phone reception, anyway." I spin around and follow her back down the hall.
"Hi, guys!" Bella flops down on to the table,
"Hi." The girls chorus,
"Mnnnnnfff." The boys grunt.
I switch on my mobile data and click on to the app BlueOrchid: an app I've been using to write stories for people's enjoyment. Bella doesn't have it, and I kind of like it that way if I'm honest. It's a place where I can write my stories without anyone there to think that they belong to her.
I open up the story I'm writing (Scarlett) and retreat to my own world of happiness and joy. A place where no readers who think my work is Bella's can bother me, no annoying younger siblings can attack, no arguing parents can yell...
My safe place.
"What are you doing?" Millie asks me,
"Nothing." I return to earth as the app shuts off. She watches my phone for a few seconds, and then turns back to my confident best friend.
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"I'm home." I say, opening the door to my house.
"Welcome home!" My insane little sister comes charging up to me,
"Hi, you crazy terror." I grin as she jumps at me and wraps her six-year-old arms around my neck.
"How was school, Nala?" Mum smiles at us from the kitchen doorway in a messy apron,
"School was school." I shrug,
"So... Normal?" She says. I nod.
"Your brother's coming here on the weekend." She tells us,
"He is." My sister, Kiki, beams up at me,
"Really? Siddy's coming here?" I raise a dark eyebrow. I have brown hair that curls and reaches my shoulders with dark eyes and eyebrows,
"Mhmm. For the weekend." Mum disappears into the living room. Her and dad divorced last year, and my older brother, Siddy, went to live with him.
"Cool. I haven't seen him in two months." I leave my lunchbox in the sink and abandon my shoes and coat in the hallway.
"Kiki, come here and help me with the dishes." Mum calls from the kitchen,
"K!" My sister scurries off to rescue our mother from the horrors of whatever Kiki left on her plate. I walk up to my bedroom and curl up under my bed.
I love my room. It's small, but cosy. There is a green rug that covers about three-quarters of the floor, the walls are just plain white and the curtains are yellow, but I have a raise bed next to the wall with stairs leading up to it. There is a bookshelf and a desk opposite, and curtains on the bed frame, creating a safe, dark space underneath my raised bed. There is another, smaller desk with a cushion underneath the bed and more books propped up on a shelf around the walls under my bed.
I close the curtains, separating myself from the rest of the world, and take out a small notebook. I start planning my next story chapter.
In the world I have created, there is no such thing as a best friend who accidentally outshines every bit of hard work that you have poured in to a piece of work, or dads who upset you every time you see them. No such thing as sadness, or frustration. It's all so perfect.
And I retreat in to that world again.