|The Other Princess's Diaries
Author: clairiana PM
This is the diary of a girl named Paige. She thinks her life is very ordinary but she is in for a shock. OC. AU. Use of Fat Louie's name.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 9 - Words: 3,479 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 11-30-07 - Published: 11-07-07 - id: 3878969
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Ugh, what am I supposed to do now? There is no way that my already dismal life can get any worse. But somehow, call it my seventh sense, I know it's going to.
My name's Paige. EW, It's an OKAY name, I guess… but oh well, I wish I could have a name like one of those models. Like Gisele. Or Paris.
Well, not Paris. That piece of plastic is in the papers more than the war in Iraq.
Anyway, I'm fifteen. Stuck between being called a preteen (which is stupid, since you become a teen when you turn thirteen after all) and being able to drive on your own. My sister, Irene, has been allowed to drive for three years, and yet I still have to take the bus. Whatever happened to nepotism?
Well, Irene doesn't have favorites. Okay, maybe one—her boyfriend, Ricky London. Ugh, I hate Ricky. All he ever does is ask, "You okay, Paige?" and then ruffles my hair. Seriously, man, am I fifteen or what?
Meh. I hate being fifteen. I wish I was nineteen, because I deserve the power more than Irene. I'd do better things, like volunteer for community service, or Greenpeace. Not exactly something my bratty sister would do. And Irene's only my HALF sister, too! She always brags about how well her father does things. Even though I don't see my dad that much, I still have the right to defend him; I AM his flesh and blood, after all.
Or am I? In this family, everything's hectic.
My mom's a sculptor. She spends most of her time molding clay while listening to crappy 80's dance videos. I groan and complain about the tapes, because the guy in them is too hairy. But no, my mom never listens to poor little insignificant Paige. Doting on Irene seems to be her only mission in life (well, other than sculpting, anyway) while ignoring me.
Not that my dad is much better or anything. He just sits around and smokes his pipe and reads the newspaper, while I cough as loud as I can just to make him feel annoyed, so maybe he'll spend some time with me or something… But no.
Ooh, and there's my stepdad, Norman. He's totally awesome!!! I mean, not that I don't like my real dad and all, but sometimes Norman just seems more personable.
Hunh, I'm so confused… right now, I'm sitting on my bed writing this, as my cat Louie purrs like a weed whacker. I love Louie and all, but he purrs louder than a freight train.
Oh, my mom's calling me…