The crowd cheered. "Go Marisol!" I heard someone from the crowd scream.
I walked onto the stage, trembling. "Here you go, Ms. Smith!" said the host of the show.
"Ha, thanks." I managed to croak out. The crowd went silent. You could hear a pin drop. "Um, hi." The microphone made a high pitched noise. I flinched.
"Hello everyone." I whispered into the microphone. "I'm glad I won this competition and I'm glad I'm taking the trophy on behalf of my basketball team. The Wizards." The crowd went wild. I managed to put a smile on my face and look down at my parents who were sitting on the front seats, smiling up at me.
I gave the microphone to the host and walked down the ramp to go back and sit on my seat next to my older brother and a girl from my team.
"Congrats, Mari." Robert said - Robbie for short - plastering a smile on his face. It looked genuine, but I knew it was all a part of the Act. My sitting is a part of the Act too. I can't even sit comfortably outside of the house. I was wearing a tight blouse with a long skirt that went below my feet. I kept on tripping on it. I sighed.
"Thanks." I threw him a fake smile and looked back at the stage.
The host continued talking; saying how wonderful my parents and Robbie are for encouraging me to play basketball. I rolled my eyes at that. I hate basketball. I'm always forced to do this.
- - -
"Robert! My son!" Mother exclaimed as we entered the house. "Your Act was great, my love." She threw her arms around Robbie and squeezed him.
"Mother." he squeaked. "You may be squashing me."
"Oh!" she pulled back. "Sorry, my love." Robbie threw her one of his charming smiles and retreated to his room. Mother and Father looked at me.
"You kept on tripping on your dress, Marisol Smith." Mother huffed. “You also stuttered when you were up on stage.” She looked at me as if she had just drank a whole glass of lemon juice.
I rolled my eyes. “I did my best.”
“Don’t talk to your mother like that!” she exclaimed.
“Whatever.” I groaned and walked away into my room on the second floor.
I looked around. I had a pretty big room. My queen bed was already made. I silently thanked Luna - my maid. I made my way towards my walk in closet and looked through my comfy clothes section. A pastel green off the shoulder sweater and loose jeans caught my eye. I took them both out, squeezed out of my current clothes, slipped on my comfy clothes and flopped onto my bed.
I took out my diary from under my bookshelf and started writing.
I hope you have a good life. Because mine is horrid. People think I’m a basketball player, I’m a fashionista, I’m a math nerd, etc. But I’m none of those. Yes, my father is the math nerd. Yes, my mother is a fashionista. Yes, my brother is a basketball player.
But I’m none of the above. I like to swim, read, and I like comfy clothes. I hate me right now. I’m going to tell the world who I really am. I’ll be kicked out of this house next week. My 18th birthday is coming close. I’ll finally live in my own apartment, unlike Robbie. He’s twenty one and he still hasn’t found a proper place to live. Mother said that she’ll give me five million bucks. Cash and card. Both. So. Yeah.
Whatever. Luna’s calling me for supper. I best be going or I’ll be grounded from driving. *eye roll* Ha.
Lots of love,
I got of my bed and walked out of my room, shutting the door behind me. “What’s for supper?” I asked Luna, who was dressed in her uniform, waiting for me patiently outside my door.
She smiled, “Roasted chicken. Cook’s special.”
I nodded. Yummy!
I ran down the stairs, only to be stopped by Mother. “How many times have I told you to act like a human and walk gracefully down the stairs?” she yelled, “You’re getting lessons right after supper, child!”
“Shut up.” I muttered, biting on my nails.
Mother looked at me in horror and slapped my hand away from my mouth, “Enough! Dining room. Now!”
“I’m going, Mother.” I grumbled, trudging into the huge hall. I looked at the painting of my grandmother - Viola Gibbins - and smiled. She was a cheery old lady. Always helping out. Not caring for how you look like or what you like to do. She would actually care if you got hurt or broke your leg playing basketball, unlike Mother. The frame of the painting was gold. Pure gold.
“You know, Susen.” Father started, “I’ve been thinking.”
Robbie laughed, “When you think, that means danger!”
Mother flinched, then laughed. Father did too. I sat on my chair, not saying a word.
“Joe, you were saying something.” Mother said, fluttering her eyelashes. “What were you thinking?”
I cut out some chicken from the huge plate in which the chicken was sitting in, and placed it on my plate. I took a bite and closed my eyes, enjoying the taste of the tasty spices.
“Why don’t we take down Viola’s picture and replace it?” Father asked. I snapped my eyes open, and choked on my chicken. No one cared to slap my back to ease my coughing.
“No!” I said, when I had gathered myself. “Why would you do that?”
Robbie sighed, “I think I may actually agree with Mari.”
Did he just call me Mari in the house? He hates calling me that.
Mother shot me a death look. I glared at her. Robbie who was sitting beside me today, held my hand from under the table. I jumped and he stroked it. I looked at him, puzzled. He left my hand and I looked down at it. It was a piece of paper. I looked at him, even more puzzled than before. I opened it up and looked down at it.
I’m sorry for whatever I did. For not supporting you, not standing up for you like a big bro, not loving you, not caring for you. I miss seeing you around. It’s not fun to see your sister locked up in her room. :)
I smiled. But what if this was a trick? It seemed suspicious anyways. I’ll ask him if he can come with me to the mall sometime and I’ll see what he does.
Mother and Father were in a heated conversation about the picture. I sighed. Whatever I say wouldn't make a difference.
Word count: 1121