My life is a soap opera.

Seriously. You don't believe me, do you? Well. That just goes to show you just how much you know.

First off, I don't have a so called "normal" life. I never have and I kinda like it that way. Sure, it's stressful at times but it's also pretty exciting. (Or at least I try to tell myself it's exciting.)

I live in London, England with just my mum. I don't have any siblings, although at times I think that might be nice. Other times, I'm happy I don't.

My dad doesn't live in England. In fact, he's American and is an honest to goodness rock star. I hardly know him, as he doesn't come to see me often.

On occasion, he'll ring me up, asking the usual "dad" questions. How's school. How's my friends. Have I done anything interesting of late. What sort of stuff interest me. Those deep and thought provoking questions. (Notice my sarcasm there.)

I haven't seen him in over seven years. I don't even know if I'd recognize him if I bumped into him in the street. I know he wouldn't recognize me.

My mum is a nurse. And you'd think she's in the medical field that she wouldn't be as high stung as she is. She's constantly scolding me about the dumbest shit.

Unless I'm in a bad mood, I usually just stare at her, hoping that I look somewhat apologetic.

I just don't understand why she gets so uptight about some of the shit she does. Like taking the train, alone. Or if I'm five minutes late, she automatically assumes the worst had happened.

And instead of being grateful, she'll immediately start lecturing me the second I'm through the door, asking me if I realize just how many people disappear in the blink of an eye.

As if I'm a complete idiot who doesn't know anything about the crazy shit that happens in the world. I absolutely cannot wait to be free and out there, alone, living the life I want to.

Only two more years and I'll be free. Sometimes I'll fantasize about what my life would be like I were with my dad (I'm using the term "dad" loosely.)

Would he be as upright as my mum? Or would he be more relaxed?

I can't say I know the correct answer to this question, as I barely know my father. The longest he's been around was the first five years of my life, which I don't have a bloody clue about.

Maybe someday I'll get an opportunity to just hang out with him and discover which parts of me are from him. And if I'm extra lucky, he'll invite me to stay in his life.

***

"Aurora, is that you?" Mum's voice is extra shrill this evening as I try to casually sneak into the kitchen to grab some biscuits and a Pepsi. I sigh, dreading the confrontation.

Mum appears in the doorway of the kitchen, hands planted firmly on her shapely hips, her lips pursed as though she's just been sucking on a lemon.

"I texted you," Mum trills, marching over and grabbing my chin in her fingers, scrutinizing me.

"Mum, I had band practice. Remember? It's every Wednesday and Friday afternoons at school." I jerk my chin out of her grasp, stepping back, cramming a chocolate biscuit into my mouth. I haven't eaten since lunch and I'm starving.

"Too busy to text your old mum back? I was worried sick."

"Maybe if you'd actually listen to what the hell I'm saying, you wouldn't be worrying yourself in a frenzy."

"Don't be smart!" Mum marches past me, knocking her elbow into the side of my head, making me yelp in surprise.

"Get cleaned up! Tea is ready and I'm sure you have homework to finish."

I glare at her back but she doesn't turn around. I stand there for several seconds, purposely defying her demands, just to show that she can't push me around all the time.

***

Once tea is finally done, I quickly retreat to my sacred haven, my bedroom. It's the only room in the house that isn't tainted by my mother's prissy decorations.

I like to think I take more after my father when it comes my personal preference in decor. I like dark colors. I like bohemian decor and I like unique and weird trinkets.

My mum tolerates my bizarre taste in decor, as she thinks I'm going through a "phase." I always want to shout at her that this isn't some silly phase. It's who I am. I wouldn't say I'm a musician, like my dad, but I dabble in music and I'm learning to play the guitar. (I'm dying to learn how to play an electric guitar.)

I toss my bag down in the corner of my room and turn on the lamp, which has a green light bulb and plop down in my bag, cosy black bean bag chair, which I found at a charity shop two years ago.

I sit there in the silence, just enjoying the sound of nothing before I lean over, turning on my stereo and rummaging around for my notepad and pen.

As the sounds of my father's deep singing voice fills the air, I briefly close my eyes, just envisioning him, in the recording studio, singing his heart out, the recording mic in front of him, his band mates, playing their instruments and occasionally pitching in on the vocals.

I have every single CD of my father's. He's made quite a few. I've also bought every single song on Spotify and have them downloaded on my IPOD. Usually I prefer to put my ear buds in and completely tune out my mum. But sometimes, I just enjoy listening to the music with my stereo.

Tonight I prefer the stereo. As I listen to my father singing, I hum along, quickly adding some new lyrics to my current song I've been working on.

I hear the phone ring downstairs and just to be a twat, I turn the music up. I hear Mum shouting at me to turn it down but I pretend not to hear her.

Five minutes later, Mum is knocking loudly on my bedroom door, shouting at me to open up. I continue to ignore her, figuring she only wants to berate me again.

The door flies open and Mum is standing there, scowling, holding the phone out to me. I reluctantly get up and accept the phone, putting it to my left ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rory! How's it shaking? I hear my music playing in the background. That's fab, doll! Just fab!"

I raise my gaze, staring open mouthed at my mum, who looks ready to reach through the phone and strangle my...dad.

***

"Dad!" I exclaim. "Hey! How, erm are you?"

"I'm perfect, doll! Absolutely perfect! Say, you're mum mentioned that you'll be finished with school for a while. So I have a proposition for you."

"Yes?" My heartbeat has quickened and it beating mercilessly against my ribcage. Is Dad going to ask me what I think he's going to?

"How'd you like to come on tour with me and my band?"

"Yes!" The word just flies out of my mouth. I don't dare look at Mum. I know how pissed she'll be.

"That's fab, doll! I'm gonna be in London next week. I'll be by to get you and we'll fly out to New York. What'd you say?"

"Oh my God, Dad!" I scream. Dad actually laughs.

"I'm thinking you're down with that, huh?"

"Hell. Yeah!"

"Fab! Just fab! I can't wait, doll! I need to go now. I'm about to go on stage. I'm gonna tell all my batshit fans that my baby is coming with me on tour!"

"Great, Dad! I'll see you next week."

"Yes, doll. Peace out!" The line goes silent and I'm standing there, in utter shock as Mum waves her hand in front of my eyes.

"You're not going, Aurora!"

"Screw you!" I shout, pushing her out of my room, slamming the door closed and leaning against it, sliding down and actually squealing in delight. I don't care what Mum says. I'm going on tour with my father. Even if I have to sneak out to do it.

Chapter 1

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