It was my eighteenth birthday and here I sat twiddling my thumbs, I should have been having a party, but mum couldn't afford it. I should have been going out, but I couldn't afford it. My not so little sister and mum had vanished into the kitchen nearly an hour before to cook up a birthday surprise, but I felt so frustrated that I was not looking forward to it. Things had gone downhill, money-wise, since dad had walked out six months ago, he'd been in touch just once since he'd left and that had been to pick up some things he had forgotten to take. I suppose that his forgetting my birthday didn't help my mood any either.
Mind you I couldn't blame mum for his departure, in any man's book she was a looker even at forty. Why dad left was known only to him and he wasn't about to talk. My sister, who was a year younger than me, was a younger version of mum, maybe not quite so pretty, but still pleasant to look at. I was a little surprised at the tone of my thoughts towards my mother and sister and could only put it down to the fact that my girlfriend Dawn had not only refused my advances over the past few weeks, but also had finally given me the elbow the night before.
"Happy birthday Mark." My mother's voice said from the living room doorway.
I was bored out of my skull, it was a Friday night and I should have been out enjoying myself, but everything had gone wrong that day, first the party one of my mates at school was giving was cancelled, then I discovered that most of the crowd I hung around with had been collared by their parents to do various things. So I was forced to stay home, across the room my twin brother was looking as bored as I was, not that he looked like me at all, we weren't identical twins just born within a minute of each other, me being the oldest by that minute. There we sat, two fifteen year old boys, and there sat our eighteen year old sister who had been assigned to baby sit by our parents who had gone off for a long (and I suspected dirty) weekend. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister and I think she's a dishy bird, but at fifteen I felt a bit miffed that my parents thought a baby sitter necessary.
"What's on the box Pete?" I asked my brother.
He picked up the telly guide, glanced through the listings and sighed.
"Bugger all." he replied.
"Andy," my sister said, "why don't you read a book or something."
"I don't feel like reading Becky." I replied.
"So what do you fancy?" she said sharply.
"Hell," I grinned, "I don't know, but sitting here doing bugger all is not my idea of fun."
"Put a video on." She suggested.