Family Holiday

Sarah is angry, stressed and annoyed. Anybody else would be mega excited if they were jetting off to Paris, but with her family, that's hard. With her stressy mum, weird dad and whiny little sister, can this turn out to be the best family holiday ever?

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1. Jetting Off

"Come on, we're going to miss the flight!" Mum yelled, looking over her shoulder. Me, dad and Alice, my little sister, were practically running to keep up with her, juggling our suitcases through the airport. We hadn't even gotten to Paris yet,and already our holiday was stressful.

"Keep up, you slow coach!" Alice said to me. That was just like the pot calling the kettle black- Alice was the reason that we were late! She'd kicked up a big fuss about wanting an ice cream, lying down on the floor and kicking her legs in the air. Mum had gotten so embarrassed that she'd bought us ALL an ice cream, and the queue was huge, but Mum knew that if she walked off, Alice would go off on one again. And by the time our ice creams were ready, we were late, running like headless chickens to catch our plane. 

"Oh, Sarah, catch up!" Dad said, giving in and picking Alice up. "I really can't be doing with losing this holiday- your mother kept moaning until she got it," I held on tight to my case and sprinted behind mum. We rushed and rushed, everyone stopping to stare at us. "Almost there!" Dad panted, when our plane came into view.

"HURRY!" Mum almost screamed. "Keep up!" We were running and running, as if the airport was about to be swallowed by a big green monster or something. We eventually were running up the steps and into the plane, out of breath. The air hostess stared at us in shock. 

"Oh, oh, okay-" Mum breathed. "Let's-take-our-seats," Mum and Dad sat together, behind me and Alice, who was staring at a photo of a boy band in her little kid magazine. She's only six- five years younger than me- but she's in LOVE with this band called Sweet Boys. 

"I wonder if Sweet Boys will be in Paris?" she asked herself, getting all excited. "They are on tour,"

"I highly doubt it," I said, pulling my book out of my bag. 

"You're just jealous," Alice snapped, "Because you're to OLD for boys,"

"Actually," I said matter-of-factually, "A lot of eleven year olds like boys," 

"SHUT UP!" Alice yelled, folding her arms; she hates it when anybody corrects her. "I don't like you, Sarah!" She turned away from me, staring out of the window. Mum and Dad rolled their eyes at me in a -you're-the-big-sister-stop-being-childish way. Well, from what I could gather, it was going to be a long, long holiday. 

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