I opened my light brown eyes and stared hard at the bottom of the bunk-bed above me. No-one slept on it any longer, but I had kept it there so that I store all my stuff. I had a lot of stuff, and this time I didn’t mean objects. It was the stuff, the trauma, perhaps, running through my head.
What time is it? was the first thing my head moaned at me. Dragging myself out of the bed, I picked up my pink flip-up phone and stared at the illuminated time. Was it really 6.30 already?
“Coral!” My mother yelled up the stairs, “It’s time to get up and get yourself ready for school.”
I grunted back down at her. She spoke as though I didn’t know what to do. My body clock had been doing that up-and-at-them routine for the last three years, you’d think that she’d have realised that I knew by then.
‘Coral, this; Coral that.’ She was always nagging me to do one thing or another, so I never had any rest. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a horrible thing to say, because it was not really that true. It was not like I hated my own mother, right? I just wished she’d never given me the name I have.
Mr. and Mrs. Reef had their first and only child after trying for a baby for almost three years. She was a scrawny girl, a midget with straw-coloured hair and a screaming voice. They decided she needed a pretty name, a traditional, special name, a different name.
Yeah, my parents obviously had a kind sense of humour too. Not! I mean, come on, would anyone in their right minds really call a person ‘Coral Reef’? Arg, even saying it felt like a curse! That’s right, that’s what I’ve had to endure for the last several years of my life, waking up, and walking into the place where everybody looks at you as though you are a joke in a book; just some character pulled out of the head of an author who has no idea that they are not funny.
But not any more. My parents are going to wish that they had never named their daughter something ridiculous.
After all, nobody wants a name that’s a pun for something from the real world.