Just Like Me?

For the Salvage competition: A girl who has grown up in the slums of Dharavi finally meets her twin sister, who has grown up in England... but it isn't all she hoped it would be. **I hope to expand this short story after the competition :)**


3. Aafreem

“I think my arm still hurts from the shots,” I said, raising my eyebrows at dad as I rubbed my arm. Dad peered over the cream leather arm of his chair at me, nodded, and then looked back to his magazine. Something about cars, I didn’t care enough to check.

“Look, it’s red,” I said, right after I’d pinched the spot where I’d been given, like, a hundred and one jabs so that the smooth brown skin darkened just a little. I huffed, blowing my fringe out of my eyes.

“I don’t see anything,” dad muttered.

“You didn’t even look!”

Dad nodded again but said nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more annoying adult, apart from maybe the air hostess behind me who keeps on talking to the airplane passengers with the most nasal voice ever. I’ve turned around and given her the stink eye over the reclined seat once or twice, but I think she’s been trained not to react when kids give her the stink eye. Or something like that.

The range of films to watch are absolute rubbish, with the closest thing to a good film being Horton Hears a Who, but after ten minutes I just couldn’t get through all the rhyming. I’ve never watched anything more childish in my life.

To pass the time I flicked through a fashion magazine that I found slotted into the chair in front of me, and spent a good hour comparing myself to the celebrities who've eaten too much or not done enough running. The best articles are the ones with huge pictures of some celeb gorging on junk food, caught in the act.

But I ran out of magazines soon enough.


“Play on your Gameboy or something,” dad said, turning a page of the endless car mag.

“God dad, do you even know me?” I hissed, offended. “That’s got the word ‘boy’ in it for a reason, and no, I haven’t got a DS or a PSP either, in case you were wondering.”

Dad fished in his pocket and dropped his mobile into my hand without allowing his eyes to roam from the pages. I grinned and kissed him on the cheek as I unlocked the smart phone and opened up Flappy Bird, a game that I’d download and that dad had never played.

Flappy Bird ought to tide me through the rest of this dreary journey.

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