Mistinazia

Imogen

I'm not really shocked that Anya's getting told off. She's such a daredevil and is always up to something naughty. I'm just shocked at Amelie for being so cruel/
I'm going to introduce myself, like Anya did, though not as enthusiastic. Anya is enthusiastic at everything. That one of the many reasons why I love her.
  I'm Imogen. Imogen Thomas.
I'm not like Anya. I'm quite girly, and I'm currently wearing a white dress with poppies on and red sandals. My hair is long and dark, and usually in a plait, like Anya. But me and Anya both have hazel eyes and are short for our ages.
  Now I need to find out what Anya did to make Amelie so angry.
   “Wow, that was harsh of Amelie. I hate her,” I say, “What did you do?”
“I was starving. I ate some chocolates. Amelie caught me and I cheeked her. She got furious,” she explains.
  “Wow,” I gasp, “I don't blame you for stealing. Amelie is so horrible, isn't she?”
“Yup,” sighs Anya, “She is.”
  “Do you want me to cover for you?” I ask, “Pretend that I forced you into it and it was my fault? Then I'd be in trouble, and not you.” Anya looks horrified.
“No!” she says, “I deserve it, you don't. I can't let you get into trouble when I should be the one in trouble. But, oh my gosh, thanks for suggesting it! You're the best sister ever!”
  “Same to you,” I smile. Suddenly, the door opens and Amelie storms in, glaring at Anya.
“I HAVE DECIDED ON YOUR PUNISHMENT, FOR YOU HAVE BEEN A BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD GIRL!” she yells, “YOU SHALL GO TO BED AT SIX 'O' CLOCK FOR A MONTH,  AND ALSO FOR A MONTH YOU SHALL BE SPENDING YOUR WHOLE TIME CLEANING THE HOUSE!”
  “Yeah, yeah,” says Anya, “But you broke the rules. It's 7 'o' clock now, and I'm still awake. Boo-ya!”
“IT STARTS TOMMOROW!” she screams. She turns to glare at me, “AND YOU, IMOGEN, NEED TO KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO HER!!!”
  “Okay, I will,” I lie. Amelie grunts and stomps out the room, slamming the door behind her.
   “I won't actually 'knock some sense' into you,” I say.
“I know,” says Anya.
  “What shall we do now?,” I ask.
   “Eat,” she replies, taking six chocolates from her pocket, “I saved them. You can have them all.”
“Thanks! I say gratefully, and put one in my mouth. It truly is scrumptious, so fine.
  “Some have caramel in them, some are minty, some are ginger, and some are just normal milk chocolate!” she grins, “I read the package.”
I eat another one, and this one is ginger. Ginger chocolate was Mum and Dad's favourite, and it reminds me so much of them.
  I eat them all. I have found two ordinary ones, two minty ones, a ginger one and a caramel one. They're all delicious.
“Yum,” I say, and I mean it.
  “Shall we play a trick on Amelie? Let's put a frog in her bed!” giggles Anya, her eyes alight with mischief.
   “No,” I say, “I don't like pranks. And you're already in enough trouble as it is.”
“Don't care,” she says defiantly, “You don't do it then, but I shall do it.”
  “No offence, it isn't really a good prank,” I wince, “Amelie isn't afraid of frogs or anything slimy. I don't know anything that she is afraid of.”
“Argh,” groans Anya, “Those frogs are saved, I guess.”
  “Yeah,” I agree, “Those frogs got lucky.”
   “Do you dare me to climb out the window?” asks Anya. What is wrong with her?
“What? No!” I say. She groans.
  “But I B-O-R-E-D,” she sighs.
   “Read a book, maybe?” I suggest. She looks at me as if I'm crazy.
“No! I'm not a nerd like you!” she grimaces.
I hate it when people call me a nerd. Or a geek. Or a know-it-all or goody-goody or teacher's pet. I know I am those things, but I hate it anyway.
   My old friend Cherry once told me that I could change myself, and be cool and careless and popular, like her. But I wouldn't want to change. I'm just me.