Trapped

Trapped: Chapter one

Chapter One

Opportunities

"Jazmaine get your ass down here, we're going to be late!" screamed my sister from downstairs.

"Shut up, I'm coming!"

My name is Jazmaine. My friends call me Jazzy and my teachers call me Ms. Hayze. The queen bee downstairs that society deemed "sister" is Victoria, Vicky for short. I'm fifteen and she's sixteen. Although she's only one year older than me, Vicky acts like she's twenty-two.

"Oh my freaking gosh what is taking so long?!"

See? I told you. QUEEN BEE!

"Didn't I say I'm coming?" I snapped.

"Well come faster," she replied.

"That's what she said!" I laughed.

Vicky can get on my nerves most of the time but I still love her. Who else is going to cover for me when I sneak out of the house? We have that family resemblance. Like the kind of thing that at first glance we look the same but look closely and we are totally different. Our hair is the same length (shoulder length), and the same blend of jet black and mahogany. Her chest is smaller than mine and my buttocks area is smaller than hers. That's basically how you tell us apart. Now if you want to get into detail, I have a beauty mark above my eye and hers is on her cheek. My birth mark is on my shoulder and hers is wherever. I don't really pay that much attention to her.

"Alright we can go now." I said smoothing my skirt down.

"Oh thank you for gracing me with your presence your majesty," Vicky stated with a sour look.

She did a mock curtsy and got on her knees pretending to praise me.

"The pleasure is all mine, peasant." I giggled.

Vicky stuck her tongue out at me and smiled before she began shoving me towards the front door.

"Wait I forgot my keys!" I yelled as I sprinted to the kitchen. I snatched them off the counter and noticed a note from our mom. It said,

"On a business trip. Be back tomorrow at 10 AM. BE GOOD!

-Love Mom"

It had a little heart right after her name. Our mom is a motivational speaker and she gets paid pretty well. Last year she made enough money for us to vacation in Aruba for half the summer. It was the best vacation ever. It would have been better if dad was there too. Our father passed away when I was ten and Vicky was eleven. It's still hard for us to talk about. We visit his grave site every month. Sometimes we just sit there and talk to him. I miss him so much.

"Mom's on a business trip?" I asked as I walked back to the front door.

"Yeah. She left about two hours ago. Now come on!" Rushed Vicky.

"So are you going out tonight?" I asked mischievously.

"You know it," Said Vicky as she climbed into the driver's side of our Mini Cooper.

"I made plans as soon as mom stepped out the door."

"Going to Derwin's party?" I asked.

"Of course," Vicky grinned.

"So am I. I'll tell Aisha to come over after school so we can get ready."

"Perfect!" Vicky squealed.

Aisha is one of my best friends and our personal hair and make-up team. Whenever our mom is out of town, Aisha comes over and makes my sister and I look hotter than we already are. Even though she's only fifteen that girl is talented. She should be because her mom is a celeb hair stylist. Her mom has done everyone's hair from Janet Jackson to Shakira. One time Aisha's mom was styling Miley Cyrus' hair for a concert that night and she let Aisha get some practice in. She left the hair dye in too long and turned Miley's hair the nasty orange-ish color it is now. I laughed so hard I had to use Jeremiah's inhaler so I could breathe again. By the way I hate Miley Cyrus.