Young Adult / Me, on Growing up revised
Chapter One- Mi Familiar
I would like to formally introduce myself as the girl that is unlucky in love. Your probably thinking you’ve heard that all before but when you’ve finish reading this you will realize that your lives are real good, well… compared to mine, anyway.
Here my story starts… oh, by the way, in case you didn’t know I’m Casey Adams of the Adams clan. My household contains two brothers, one older and one younger; they go by the names of Jonnie, who is turning 29 next month (he’s the older brother), Corey who is 17 and always on heat. And not forgetting me the middle child only missed out on being the baby of the family by what 8 years but who’s counting? I know I’m not.
To tell you more about me, and how I came about (well not so graphic but you get what I mean); I grew up in Croydon with both my parents and my knuckle head brothers who gave me nothing but trouble and headache. Ok maybe not all the time; there were the odd occasions that they were quite fun to be around, and made me proud to be associated with them. But those occasions were so few and far between because they preferred to tease and provoke me. Maybe it was because of the response I gave them. My mum was always telling me to ignore them and that they would get bored and stop. But I was never really any good at it; I used to always say they know how to get to me. Plus I was never really one to shy away from an argument or heated discussion, as I like to now call it.
Life with brothers, how do I describe how it was? I can say this much; there was never a dull moment. There was always a situation that would end in tears be it happy or sad. My younger brother Corey was a bit accident prone. my older brother used to tease me saying that it was because I dropped him when he was a baby, and for a long while I believed it to a point where I would cry sometimes when he fall over and hurt himself. As I got older I realized that he was just clumsy – no other word would describe him better.
Corey was the most hyperactive in the family in my opinion; he would just never keep still. I seriously started believing that he had ants in his pants that did make him fun to be around. I spent most of my time laughing at his playful antics and the rest of the time tell him to leave me alone and get out of my room especially when he got to the phase of picking up anything he saw and putting it in his mouth. And then to make matters worse, leaving the things where they dropped, and that would usually be in my room.
Though, if I was to ask mum today, she would say you all were as bad as each other, but as I can only go by what I’ve seen; and the fact that I am praying that is not the case, I shrug off the statement. People do they say that if you were a certain way as a child, you’re child would be like that or maybe worse.
So as you can imagine there were a lot of sore throats and slammed doors in the house but that would only happen when mum and dad were out, which was not very often. As they say if these walls could talk! Obviously this was when he grew out of his cute adorably phase.
I was what you would call a drama queen. So much so; that if you were to ask me the simplest thing I would make it seem like you were asking me to climb Mount Everest or something. And to top it off I was always so animated that you would think I was auditioning for a staring in Hollywood movie. The funny thing is if you asked me to act out a scene it would have been painful to watch – just imagine two trains colliding.
Jonnie was the smart allec of the family, as far as he was concerned he was always right even if he was wrong. He knew just how to get my back up; I think he made notes of what annoyed me, and chose strategically which one to use and what time. And as always I took the bait. The thing I never understood was that most of my friends used to like him. For the life of me I couldn’t see and still can’t see why. Obviously knowing this it did wonders for he already enormous ego. It is a wonder how his head fit through the doorway.
We had quite a normal upbringing full of laughter followed by tears and tantrums but through all the ups and downs of this mad household I still stand firm to my belief: I wouldn’t trade them for anything well except for Jonnie. Nah,only kidding. As the saying goes, ‘can’t live with them, can’t live without them’.
Our family home was in the centre of town in the busy part of Croydon a few miles away from Mitcham. It was an average size house, we weren’t rich but we never wanted for anything. And if we were good we able to get a little extra; it did not happen very often as mum and dad didn’t believe in spoiling us, they just wanted us to have a better life than they had, as every parent does.
Our home was full of the normal living comforts. It had a big a living room with cream leather sofa’s, when you sat in them you would feel like royalty or at least in furniture store showroom and that is the way mum wanted to keep it. It was a case of mess this room at your on peril. None of us dared to test out that theory; I believe we were just chicken though we had reason to be as the living room was seen as my mum’s haven.
Because the majority of the house was male they had a room assigned for just them which I did protest to at first until I found out what I could get out of the deal. It was new stuff for my room plus a bonus of a shopping spree with my dad to get whatever wanted for my room, within reason that is!
It was mainly my Dad’s room, being the man of the house. They called it ‘The Lion’s Den’. It was full of boy’s toys, I mean if computer games and widescreen TV’s was your thing then that was the place for you, if you were male that is. There were many times that I tried to gate crash but Jonnie would always be in there making me regret ever going in there in the first place.
I did manage to get my revenge although I had to wait a while. Well to be more precise for Corey to be in the picture; where the room had to be turned into a nursery much to dad’s dismay.
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I remember when my mum got pregnant with Corey I thought to myself, “I hope it’s a girl, I hope it’s a girl so I can play doll house with her. And not have to worry about her wanting to throw worms, insects and other creepy crawly stuff in my hair or pick on me like Jonnie used to do. I mean gosh, it must be written in the older sibling’s law book that all older brothers & sisters must torture and humiliate us younger siblings. Although I can’t comment on the treatment of sisters because as you know, I don’t have any but I am pretty certain that they go by the same rules and regulations.
Well, all that wishing and hoping to get me a new baby sister throughout the long and torturous nine month’s of my mum’s pregnancy. Not just because I was anxiously awaiting the new arrival but because of my mums’ terrible cravings. Whenever I was in the house she was always asking me to make her some weird concoction. Which usually smelt really bad.
During her pregnancy she craved pickles she had to have everything pickled. I suppose my dad had it worse; least we didn’t have to get up at 3am in the morning to go and get her ice cream. Which made me glad to be a child because at one point Dad was walking round the house like a zombie I couldn’t help wondering why he put himself through that again. Then again I would if it was to have a child like me don’t know about Jonnie though.
Man, it seemed like I had been waiting for years. I would hate to know how mum felt and, wow, to be doing it for the third time she must be crazy or just plain stupid. Mum I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why she would put herself through that again. Well, I guess if I get a baby sister I’ll be happy and maybe I would see with my mum a little bit. I just really don’t think I can deal with another knuckle head brother.
When that faithful day came all I remember is my mum screaming at my dad “ooooh the baby’s coming. The baby’s coming. You better get your aaarrssse ready! Ooh ooh ooh ooh she pants she tells herself aloud, “I can’t believe I going through this for the third time I must be mad” okay that’s confirmed it; she is crazy. Dad starts rushing Jonnie and I into the car. And yes mum is still screaming bloody murder. ‘Gosh I never heard her talk like that before’, but I am so excited that I don’t care’.
We reach St Thomas’ hospital in what seems like seconds. Upon arrival at the main reception we are greeted by Nurse Green. The only reason I know this is I read her name tag pinned on her uniform. We are taken to the nearest cubicle in the maternity ward. “Your midwife will be with you shortly” with that she leaves. The next people we see are the midwife and the doctor. The doctor (not sure of the correct name) proceeds to introduce himself, “Hi I’m Dr Carter your doctor for today”. Mum shouts “I don’t care who you are just get this baby out of me”.
Jonnie and I are taken to the relative’s waiting room where we instantly notice a TV in the corner of the room surrounded by chairs that would generally be found in a doctor’s surgery. but then again I suppose we are in a hospital. I shudder, as I remember my experiences at the Doctors, which would usually involve injections. Something I really hated, so much so, that I could not have my immunisation jabs at school because I would make myself so nervous. that I have a panic attack.
Dad comes in for a second and hands us both some money to get something from the hospital canteen. He tells us to behave ourselves and the turns round and rushes back to mum, who was still screaming.
Next time I saw mum, she had the baby in her arms. She looked relieved but so exhausted as if she had just run a marathon. No wonder she was screaming it must have terrible. I don’t even want to imagine what it was like. Maybe I try and find out later when I ready for the gory details, right now I way to squeamish to find out. Mum had to stay at in hospital for next days. I think they called in recovery time. When visiting time was over at 8pm, we were asked to leave so Mum could get some rest.
As you guessed all my wishing didn’t amount to anything. I think I’ve lost my powers because I got another knuckle head brother; but man was he cute! I looked at Jonnie and then at the baby and thought, naah Jonnie could never have looked that nice, could he?
It felt weird not having mum around the house. Dad did try he best to fill the void but quite frankly, his cooking skills left a lot to be desired; it was not bad but just was not mum’s I guess I am just biased.
Before I knew it mum and the new baby now named Corey came home. He was just so cute I couldn’t leave him alone, not even for a second; mum had to say “okay now Casey can I have my baby now”. Obviously I did as I was told but reluctantly, and had a face on me like I smelt something bad, which would quickly disappear when Corey was once again in my arms. Sometimes mum wouldn’t mind the break as she was exhausted and in need of a break. I expect she was relieved that I didn’t feel any resentment to the new baby as I was the baby of the family.
I would hate saying goodbye when going off to school and would rush straight home just to see him. I had this thought in my head that if I was around him enough that he would like me more than Jonnie, but the novelty soon started to wear off soon after Corey’s first Birthday. He was in the Grabbing at everything phase, especially in my room I almost considered banning him from my room but I didn’t because he was so cute, and I love him really.
As Corey got older my troubles began, as well as being into everything and chatting non-stop. He started following Jonnie around and soon started forgetting about me; and there was me having invested so much time into making him like me. a Can you believe it? It was all in vain. At least one good thing came out of this, I still have my own room and not have to share my things with her, and when she gets older have her wanted to borrow my clothes. All that time I was wishing for a little sister, a mini me, I never thought about what I’d be losing. “Oh joy of joy it was a blessing in disguise!
I am soon thirteen and I can’t wait to be a teenager; man I’m getting old. Back to school for me. Oh my gosh, there’s Emily! “Emily, Emily” I shout she turns round and screams, “Casey”, and we run and hug each other. Oh by the way Emily’s my best friend, my confident, my closest alie, we share important secrets that no one else knows, or at least that’s what we thought anyway. It’s a new school term at Brockwell Secondary School and it’s filled a buzz of children shouting and screaming and telling each other about their half term holiday’s; all in all everyone is generally happy to be back with all their school friends for a little while until the homework is given.
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“and when she gets older have her wanted to borrow my clothes”
I am not sure what you mean here, is this a tense issue?
I like the voice you are using for the girl, though, I feel from what she says she is more 15, than she is in her early twenties?
I would like to see where you go with this piece, I think you have alot of opportunity to build on it.
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