It is a pleasant day, or at least as pleasant as days can be in large cities such as this one. The sky is a pale, strained sort of blue. Everything is in order, and because it is a Saturday, one of the treasured days of the weekend, the outlook on everything is brighter.
The protagonist of this particular story, however, is deeply uninterested in these things. She is currently sitting in her room feeling relatively sorry for herself. What occurs in the next paragraphs will change this day from a pleasant one into one of great fascination, and possibly hilarity or even disgust. And so the tale begins.
Your name is Poppy Clark. You are thirteen years old. At the moment, your room is something of a mess. This will probably irritate your mother when she comes in to tell you to eat breakfast, but you don’t particularly care. You continue to stare at the assortment of things on your wall, most dominantly of which are a large picture of your estranged brother and many posters of your favorite bands. The list of these is lengthy.
After some time, your mother yells at you to come eat breakfast. Thankfully she does not enter your room. You consider simply not going to eat, but this seems completely pointless to you, so you meander through the hall and greet your mother at the table.
It appears your mother has made lemon curd pancakes. You would have preferred it if she had made cookies, as you have a great liking for cookies, but alas, even she is too responsible.
You sit down on the floor next to the dog. This earns you a reproving glare from your mother and you sadly go to sit in a chair like a normal person.
As you chew the overly sour pancakes, you reflect on all the crap that has happened to you in recent days. Your seventeen year old sister Laura had an argument with your mom and is now living with her boyfriend, whose name you can never remember. Your brother has been feeling very depressed lately and you fear it is infecting you, even though you only see him at school for a few minutes each day. You feel as if you are getting a cold, which arguably would be a good thing because it would mean you could skip school, except school is the only place you can see your brother.
Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. You start to get up but your mother beats you to it. You peer over her shoulder. You recognize that face.
Oh, my god.