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The Island and Him
CHAPTER 1: ONE WEEK AGO: Home and Bus

CHAPTER 1: ONE WEEK AGO: Home and Bus

The alarm blares.

Ring~ Ring~ Ring~

"Aria, time to get up, honey! You'll be late!"

Groaning, I pull my pillow over my head, begging for just a few more minutes. Last night was rough—I studied until way too late and had a strange dream I can barely remember. The only image that stuck was of a crow or maybe a raven, and it left me feeling oddly on edge.

Ring~ Ring~ Ring~

"Alright, alright, I'm up," I mumble, rolling out of bed and rubbing my eyes.

I reach over to my study table, where my alarm clock sits beside a vase of sunflowers, and turn it off. The morning light streaming through my window catches my attention, so I pause to look outside. The sky is brilliant blue, completely clear. Just for a second, I feel my mood lift as I inhale the crisp morning air. The flowers in the vase seem to reflect the sky today, and I offer a quick, quiet prayer of thanks.

Mom really did a great job setting up this space. My room is on the second floor, with my brother's room next door and my parents' just down the hall.

It's a small but comfortable room. My bed faces my closet, with my study table near the window on one side and a full-length mirror on the other, right by the hallway door. I also have a little bathroom, which is a huge perk.

The only downside? My bed is a bit close to the bathroom door. I once asked Mom about rearranging it, but she insisted that having my bed near the window is good for luck and energy. Honestly, my bathroom is always clean, so it's not a big deal.

With everything I need right here, life really feels easy and peaceful most days [https://img.wattpad.com/98a9633493bd9b902ce4f1048be8c144d25b888a/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f454a4b5a714556484c49304761673d3d2d313439363036383934322e313830383130663839346232333635663634313633333735353535342e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

With everything I need right here, life really feels easy and peaceful most days.

Knock, knock.

The soft rapping at the door pulls me from my thoughts. It's Mom.

"Aria, are you up yet? You'll miss the bus in ten minutes if you don't hurry. Your dad can't take you today, so come on, get moving! It's the last day of school, and tomorrow is the start of summer. You can be lazy tomorrow, but not today!"

I hear the faint scent of something mouthwatering from downstairs. My stomach growls in response. Mom must have put a lot of thought into breakfast today.

"Okay, Mom, I'm getting up. Just give me a few minutes, and I'll be downstairs," I answer, groggy but complying.

I roll out of bed, smoothing out the blanket and shutting the window. I tidy up my study table, shifting the vase just so, wash my face, brush my teeth, and change into my school uniform. A quick glance in the mirror as I brush my hair, then a smile at my reflection. Finally, I grab my black wristwatch from the drawer and slip it onto my wrist.

I walk out of my room and head straight for the kitchen where Mom is waiting.

The kitchen and our side garden are my favorite places in the house. Mom has a talent for growing flowers, and Dad focuses on herbs. Whenever I'm feeling down or anxious, I escape to the garden. The fresh scent of mint always helps clear my mind and calm my nerves.

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As I enter the kitchen, I can't help but feel a sparkle of excitement. The table is brimming with delicious dishes, each one beautifully arranged.

Dad walks down the stairs and enters the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He glances around before asking,

"Where's Kyle? Can you go get him, Aria?"

I nod in response.

"Sure, Dad," I say, before turning to call my brother.

Standing at the top of the stairs, I call out to my brother in a voice that's loud enough to shake the walls.

"Kyyyyyyyyyyyyyyllleeee, get down here right now! You hard-headed, lazy teenager!"

I smile, knowing this will definitely do the trick. No way he'll stay up there after hearing that.

I hear his door creak open, followed by his shout:

"Aaaaaariaaaa! When I get down there, you'd better run— I swear I'll twist your ears off!"

I head back to the kitchen, where Mom's already there, giving me that signature disapproving stare.

"Aria, don't talk like that to your older brother," she says, her voice firm.

I pout, but before I can protest, Dad enters the room and throws his usual charm into the mix.

"Good morning, honey bunny. How was your day yesterday?"

I wince. Oh no. I'd forgotten that when Dad and Mom are together, it's like watching a different person emerge. He's all sweet and cheesy with her, and I'm stuck here trying to suppress my cringe. I never thought I'd say it, but seeing Dad so openly affectionate with Mom makes me uncomfortable.

I mean, it's one thing for him to be stoic and businesslike with us, but with her? He's like a completely different person. He's hugging her now, and I'm just watching it all unfold, wondering how I'm supposed to feel about this.

And then, of course, Mom just loves it. They really are a perfect match, I guess. She's the talented chef, and he's the serious businessman. Their worlds just collide in such a... well, dramatic way.

I remember my grandma, Stacey, once telling me that their love story was almost like something out of a soap opera. She told me Mom was a rebel, and Dad was an emo kid. Emo? I can't even imagine it.

I glance at my watch, breaking myself out of this strange reverie. Oh no, the bus will be here in just a few minutes. I can't stand here daydreaming about my parents, not when I'm about to be late.

Kyle—well, my brother, of course— is the popular one. He's six feet tall with that charming dimple that girls go crazy for. He's got this whole "bad boy" vibe that draws attention, and I'm constantly being compared to him. It's so annoying.

But there's a side of him people don't see. He's terrified of cockroaches and horror movies. I've seen him scream and run away from a scary movie faster than any girl ever would. If only his adoring fans knew about that, they might start to see him in a different light.

But right now, I don't care about his popularity or his ridiculous ego. Today, I won't let him twist my ears. Today, I'm getting out of here, fast.

At 5'6", I'm not exactly the tallest in the family, so I grab a chair to reach the top cabinet where the kitchen utensils and tupperwares are kept. I pick out a few containers, wash my hands, and then use the serving spoons to grab the food I want. I load up on eight Vietnamese rice paper rolls with peanut sauce (filled with vegetables, rice, and shrimp), eight squid rings with butter sauce, and a generous amount of lettuce. Two more containers for the rice and the beef with broccoli, and lunch is set.

"Honey, do you think that's too much?" Mom asks, returning the chair to its rightful place and eyeing the portion I took.

I pause for a second before replying, "No, Mom. This is just the right amount for a 17-year-old." I smile at her, trying to reassure her.

Truth is, I'd love to share it with my close friends at school. I always enjoy hearing them comment on how lucky I am to have a mom who changes things up with lunch every day. It makes me proud.

I hear the beep of the bus and Kyle's footsteps pounding down the stairs. My backpack is on the couch in the living room, so I have to pass through the stairs and cross paths with my brother.

Shoot, no time to waste! I quickly stack the containers and grab them.

"Goodbye, Mom and Dad. I love you," I say, not even turning around, too rushed to make it a big moment. I'll make up for it later.

"Be careful," Dad calls out.

"If you drop the food, you're cleaning it up and you'll be late," Mom adds with a serious tone.

I don't have time to respond, but I smile anyway.

And that's when I spot Kyle, standing at the corner near the stairs—about six steps away from me.

Oh no.

"You dumb girl," he mutters, emphasizing the words with that smug tone I hate.

Before I can react, he skips the last step and lunges toward me, trying to grab me. Oh no you don't! I hold the containers tight to my chest and duck low, just enough to avoid his grab, then spin quickly to the left and dart right.

"You freak!" I say, throwing him a mischievous, smug grin before I rush to toss the containers into my bag. With one last glance at him, I grab the bag and sprint for the door.

"Wait!" I shout to the bus driver as I make a last-minute dash to the bus.

I can feel my heart racing as I make it just in time.