Katie Johnson

"Kate, sweetie. Do me a favour?" 

I spun round, and looked at my mother. Her long, blonde hair waved around her delicate face as she grinned at me. I didn't know why she asked, because she knew already that I would most likely do it. 

"Go on..." I said slowly. She stood up, and walked over to me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she bent down a little so we were face to face. 

"Can I bring James home tonight?" She asked me finally, slowly biting her bottom lip. 

James was her new boyfriend, and I hadn't met him yet. It was rare to bring one of them home, so I knew that he must have been a big deal to her. I waited, building the suspense. It looked like she was about to chew her whole lip off. 

"Okay, if you must." I sighed eventually. She squealed, picking me up and twirling me around. I burst out laughing, and hugged her tightly. 

"Thank you, thank you." She said to me, grinning from ear to ear. "Your going to love him." 

"Can I ask? What are you going to cook?" I asked her, stopping her for a second. She started to laugh again. It was a known fact that she couldn't cook anything. 

"I'm not." She told me, walking over to the phone. "You are!" 

I should have known. I cook most nights in fact. I stumbled to the kitchen, and began raiding the cupboards. What to make? What to make? 

"Mum!" I yelled. "Does he like lasagne?!" 

She didn't answer me, already chatting away on the phone. Hmm. Every one liked lasagne. Didn't  they? We would soon see, anyway. I began to pull out the ingredients and started to prepare it. 

Just as it was going in the oven, my mother stormed into the kitchen. I gasped when I saw her.

"Beautiful." I whispered. 

A tight, green dress hung to her perfectly, showing off a little cleavage, and most of her dazzling tattoos. As a tattooist, she had many decorating her slim body. Her make up was done to perfection, with her long hair curled slighty.

"Not too much is it?" she asked me, looking down. I shook my head, quickly.

"No, no, no. You look wonderful. He is going to be drooling when he comes in." I told her. 

"He's going to be here in an hour, he said." She told me. She sniffed up, and a dreamy look blanketed her face. "That smells wonderful. You certainly don't get your chef skills from me." 

She walked out again, leaving me thinking. There was a lot of things I didn't get from her, like my patience and my dark hair, and even my eyes. These were things I knew I must have inherited from my father. 

I didn't know who he was. My mum never talked about him, and changed the subject when I brought him up. His name, his face, his personality, these were all mysteries to me. My mum was only fifteen when she had had me, and all I knew was that he hadn't wanted me and had left her. 

I went to get ready, and as I was walking back to the kitchen there was a knock on the door.

"Oh my god, he's here." My mother whispered, running to the door. I laughed. She was like a love sick teen. Sometimes it was like I was the mother, and she was the child. 

She opened the door, and a big, beefy man framed the doorway. His head was bald, and he wore a tight black shirt that stretched over his huge muscles. Tattoos covered his arm, and I knew that he must have met my mum at her tattooist shop. 

"Hey doll." He drawled out. My mother reached up and started to kiss him. Not a peck, but a full on snog. His hands started roaming her body, slowy going further down. I coughed. My mother jumped and looked at me, embarrassed. 

"Honey." She said quickly, blushing. "This is James." 

He grinned at me, and stepped into the house. 

"Hey, sweetie. You must be Katie." He said. His voice was deep, and he said each word slowly. 

"Kate." I corrected him. 

"Kate? Kate it is." He said laughing, raising one eyebrow.

 My mother rushed forward, standing by his side.

"Kate's cooked for us tonight." She said, grinning. He nodded, still staring at me. I began to feel uncomfortable. 

"Lasagne." I said. "I need to go check on it." 

I hurried into the kitchen and began to place it onto plates. Five minutes later my mother entered. 

"What do you think?" she asked me excitedly. 

"He seems nice." I lied. There was something about him. I didn't know what it was, but I knew he wasn't good enough for my mum. I couldn't say anything though. It would kill her, if I didn't get on with him. It was probably me just being silly. 

She picked up too plates, and I grabbed the other. When we walked into the dining room, I noticed it was only set for two.

"Where am I eating?" I asked confused, quietly so James couldn't here.

"I thought I told you. It's just me and him. I thought you didn't mind. Your eating in your room aren't you?" She said. 

I looked at her, and stormed out. She didn't come after me, and I heard laughter seconds later. 

I placed my diner on the side, and went to my room. Sometimes she annoyed me. It was like I was just a room mate, not her daughter. Never mind room mate, more like a cook. A maid. 

I lay down on my bed, and soon fell into an uneasy sleep.

The End

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