Death in the Family by Carolyn Smith (recommended books to read .txt) 📖

suddenly completely and utterly, totally and unquestionably blank.
“It’s…well…I was…my teacher said…”
My eyes desperately skirted the room for inspiration, when I was struck by an idea. My shelves were filled with crime fiction books. I love reading and my favourite genre is basically anything to do with murders and detectives. That was it!
“I’m writing a book.” Saved!
“A book?” why oh why did she have to question everything I said?
“Yes. A book.” My brain was finally filling up and beginning to overflow with my cover story so my speech now came quick, fast and full of confidence.
“I thought you said it was for school.”
“Well, it is and it isn’t. I was talking to my English teacher about how I enjoy crime fiction. She told me that she thought I was quite a talented writer and that I should try writing a book. I thought I might give it a go so I started planning some ideas on my computer. That’s why I have a list of possible ways to kill someone.” I was looking her square in the eyes now. I had no idea I could lie so well or that I could find it so easy. This was a new found gift which might come in useful over the upcoming weeks.
“Oh! Well…can I read it?” Yes! She’d bought it.
“No. I haven’t written it yet. I’m still working on the ideas. Anyway I wouldn’t want you to read it until it was finished otherwise it spoils it. So please don’t look for it on my computer. I want you to read it all in one go and not in bits and pieces.” God, I was good at this. I felt extremely calm and in control of the situation.
“Hmm. Ok then, I promise I won’t go snooping on your computer. I’ll wait until you are ready to share it with me. I am looking forward to reading it though.” She gave me one of her sparkly eyed smiles filled with excited happiness and left me standing in my room alone. I instantly went to my computer and deleted the list. I couldn’t believe I had left a paper trail. That was such a school boy error (literally). I collapsed on to my bed and let out a deep sigh. I was definitely not a criminal mastermind.

*** *** *** *** ***

I woke up the next morning still wearing the clothes from the day before. I must have been completely exhausted after all the tension I had endured during the course of the day. I quickly had a shower and put on my clean school uniform which was hanging neatly in my wardrobe (thank you Mum) and ran downstairs for breakfast where Mum and Dad were already at the table discussing something in hushed tones. I poured myself some orange juice and picked up a piece of toast from the table. I could tell that they didn’t want me to listen to their conversation so I went in the living room and sat with Karl who was gloomily looking through one of his school books. I could still hear the murmuring from the kitchen. I strained to hear what they were talking about, but they were speaking too quietly. The only think I managed to overhear was the word ‘eating disorder.’ I wondered who they were talking about. Not Mum surely? Dad, Karl and I all had healthy appetites. I knew Mum was always counting calories and she weighed herself once a week, but all women do that right? That was nothing to be worried about…was it?

The school day passed as usual in an uneventful manner. I turned up at lessons on time and did my school work to the best of my ability. I sat alone at lunch time as usual and ate in silence while I listened to the cruel taunts from lesser beings thrown in my general direction. I have never understood this. Because I choose to spend my time alone and not with my peers discussing ‘his new girlfriend’ or ‘her ridiculous outfit’ or how much they ‘detest them’ and because I actually want to do well at school and get some form of decent qualification in order that I don’t spend the rest of my life working in a shop. Because I want to actually better myself they hate me. They always taunt and tease with cruel words whenever they see me, but occasionally it is worse than that. Sometimes they throw stuff (yoghurt, fizzy drink cans, bits of paper and chewing gum which have been chewed and salivated upon etc) and sometimes they have even thrown a good punch. I never react. I just let them get on with it. What good would it do for me, a skinny flake, to try and compete against them, the popular kids; the kids in gangs with no future whatsoever? I guess it’s just jealousy on their part and I can forgive them for that. I might react in exactly the same way if I was destined to be a drunken, drugged up loser in a dead end job. On the other hand, they don’t have to end up like that do they? They could make a stand now and actually do some work in school. I guess when you are little more than a primate yourself it is difficult to string any logical ideas together let alone come up with a cohesive plan of action to make ones existence bearable if not better. Of course I would never voice any of this to them. That would trigger what I would conceive to be an unprovoked attack which I no doubt would not survive. So I let them carry on with their taunts and jibes while I eat my lunch, completely ignoring them. If I’m honest this little act of rebellion itself drives them a little crazy. They hate me even more when they know they are not actually having any effect on my whatsoever. I finish my lunch and leave the dining hall. The rest of the day continues in much the same vain as the morning. Lessons, working, writing, reading, listening and learning. Then I run for the bus and listen to the sneering and jeering all the way home. A normal, standard day at my school.

Mum and Dad don’t know about any of this though. Their reaction would just make it worse. They’d probably insist on calling the school to find out why nothing is being done about my predicament. This would force the teachers in to action and the bullies would be punished. As a result I would also be punished, more severely than usual and my life would become unbearable. Their brains may be little more than pea sized, but I am sure they would easily be able to come up with a whole new way of making my life miserable. No, it is definitely better to keep quiet and just let them get on with it. None of this will matter soon anyway because I’ll be rich and leaving school. All I have to do is take care of Nana, and not in a good way.

I got home that evening, all thoughts of school, bullies and eating disorders discarded from my brilliant mind. I sat at my desk in my room and began to think. The tripping idea was nothing short of genius, but Dad noticed the loose carpet and almost broke his neck in the process. I still think the tripping idea holds merit, but it will need to be more discreet and with no chance of anybody else falling victim to it. I sat for what seemed like hours staring at a spot on my bedroom wallpaper. I was in the zone and I had an idea. An idea that I was sure would definitely work this time. Plan B was a good one.

*** *** *** *** ***

I spent the next week merely existing until the weekend. I stuck to my usual routine, but then spent most of my evening holed up in my room alone in order to think and go over things in my mind. I knew exactly what I was going to do and how and when to execute the plan for optimum results. There was very little I could prepare before Saturday, so it was just a waiting game. Literally. I came down from my room only for meals and snacks. Mum was still working nights, meaning that she wasn’t there to complain about my absence and Dad and Karl spent most of their time in front of the television anyway, so I wasn’t missed. Mum had a very annoying habit of wanting us all to spend ‘quality time together as a family’. I dreaded these times and I know Karl did too. We would be forced sit and talk about events going on in our lives (I’m not sure if this is because Mum is just incredibly nosy or if she was using this tool as a way to keep tabs on us) or play old fashioned board games (we’re never allowed to play computer games as a family as mum thinks they ‘hinder the imagination’). I don’t know why but there is something dreadfully dull about playing a game which requires moving a counter and answering questions. This ‘family time’ occurred every two or three months, or whenever Mum was ‘feeling cut off from us all’. I could sense that as she was now working nights, some family time was imminent.

On Friday afternoon I didn’t take the school bus home. There were a few items I needed to get before Plan B could take effect so I stopped at the local DIY shop. Mr. Brown, the guy who works there, was a little surprised to see me but it didn’t last long because when I told him what I had come for he told me I was in the wrong place and that they didn’t sell the stuff. I would need to go to Mrs. Cuthbert’s Haberdashery shop for it. Mrs. Cuthbert’s shop was all the way in town. It would mean I would have to take a bus there, walk fifteen minutes through the street and back and then take another bus home. I would be late. I really didn’t have any choice though. Unless I put it off until next week giving me time to come up with a plausible reason for needing to go into town after school. I really had no choice. I wouldn’t say that my parents are particularly strict, but they do have certain rules. Karl and I can’t just decide that we’re not coming home and go for example to a friend’s house straight after school. Everything has to be planned in advance. Mum says it is only polite to give her 24 hours notice so that she has time to plan and prepare (I’m not exactly sure what she needs to plan and prepare for me going to town). The same goes for us bringing friends back to our house. Of course it is incredibly rare that I ever bring anyone back to the house. My friends are few and far between. I cursed myself as I made my way back home. I had had all week to organize this. What was wrong with me? Why I hadn’t I been