Bridget's Secret chapter 1

by Er-Bear (Erin) in Texas

I woke up one summer morning to the bright Texas sun streaming through my window and my little brown cat, Jenny, attacking my feet. Startled, I jumped and scared Jenny pretty badly; she was out of my bedroom in a flash. I grinned, hopped out of my bed, and walked over to my bathroom mirror.

I have light brown, straight hair that drapes down my back half-way, and dark blue eyes. I’ve always envied my sister, Megan’s, though. She has beautiful blonde curls, and soft blue eyes. Oh well, At least I have hair! I thought.

I soon brushed my hair and teeth, pulled on some huge khaki shorts, which I held up with a purple belt, and then slipped my grey t-shirt from camp over my head. I turned in the mirror to make sure I didn’t forget anything, and then headed out the door for breakfast.

My mom was in front of the stovetop, cooking bacon, which was typical in the Thomson house on Saturdays. “Mmm! It smells good in here!” I exclaimed, and it did. Not only was there bacon, but apple pancakes as well!

“Good morning, Bridget! How did you sleep?” she said, turning to me with her warm smile.

“I slept well. What about you?”

“I had a good night. Could you get the syrup out for me, please?”

“Sure,” I said, and retrieved the maple syrup from the fridge.

I soon heard a slamming door, and out of the hallway emerged Megan, her blonde hair flowing behind her.

“Hey Bridge! Hi mom,” she said drowsily. She rubbed her tired eyes sleepily.

“Hi Meg! Guess what? We get pancakes and bacon for breakfast!” I cried, and she grinned.

“Really?” She walked over to the silverware cabinet, grabbed some utensils, and began to set the table.

 “Hey, it’s a beautiful day outside, girls. Maybe you could go explore the woods in the park, like we used to do with dad…” Her voice trailed off into silence.

I knew what she was thinking about. My wonderful, heroic dad had been killed in a car accident when he was only thirty-three. My mom and us are always thinking about him, even though I was only two, and Megan was five when it happened.

Megan broke the silence. “Well, I think that’s a good idea.” I knew she would rather call up Julia, her best friend, and go to the mall together. But Megan was not one to disappoint her mother.

“Yeah, me too,” I said, and then we had breakfast.

When breakfast was over, I snatched a red apple from the fruit basket, wrapped it in a paper towel, and put it in one of my short’s big pockets. I was ready. As soon as Megan had reluctantly put together a PB&J sandwich, we were off to have fun in the cool woods together, or so we thought.