Cockroaches and Candy Crushes

Rocha Abbot lives a crazy life with her crazy family. Her world is full of colour and sparkle. Then she meets the new boy in town. Will her Candy Crush add more shine to her sparkle. Or drain her world of all colour?


1. Feathers

The first thing anyone should know about me is my name. It’s Rocha Abbot. That’s Rocha as in Roach-a not Rosha or Roca as some people think. It’s a stupid name I know. Everyone in my family has a weird name. Well everyone from my generation anyway. Confused? I don’t blame you. It started when my cousin Dream was born. Everyone asked why she’d been given that name. “Because she’s a dream come true.” My aunt Heidi replied. Then they started talking about unusual names, and it’s sort of turned into a game. My parents are currently wining but we’re suffering for it. I guess it helps our household’s the biggest. There’s my mum and dad, my big brother Zoid, me, my little sister Berry, my little brother Bugs and the triplets, Nessie, Bunny and Sonne. To be honest our names aren’t the only thing that’s weird about us. My dad goes to regular protests. Zoid’s hair is green. Berry will only wear yellow. Bugs always wears fancy dress. The triplets are only 5 months so they’re still normal. Well as normal as three babies can get. I think the only sane one is mum. Even I’m missing a few cogs. What makes me weird? Well let’s see there’s my vast lucky charms collection, my shoebox of treasures, my habit of throwing things so hard I nock people over, my habit of eating nothing but a tin of tomatoes for lunch, my habit of watching films in other languages etc. etc. Like I said my family’s weird. That’s probably why the day my story begins I was wearing a paint splattered top and pyjama bottoms sticking feathers in my hair. I must have looked mad but I was hoping my hair looked nice. Though I knew it didn’t. In case you were wondering the feathers were part of a new hairstyle I was trying out. The clothes were my pyjamas. (Another reason I’m weird. I sleep in my painting clothes). I was just contemplating using fuzzy pipe cleaners when Zoid put his head round the door. “Have you seen my headphone’s?” he asked. “Nope.”

“Well I can’t find them.”

“Have you had them surgically removed then?” I teased. Zoid always has his headphones on, even when they’re not plugged in. He also always wears these goggles. He thinks it looks cool. I agree. Then again I think feathers and fuzzy pipe cleaner’s in your hair is cool. (Another reason I’m weird). “Well if you see them let me know.” He was about to leave when he stopped. “You should avoid the red ones. They clash with the pink.” None of my family are fashion savvy. But my brother is colour savvy. He knows exactly which colours go together and the moods they create. I pulled the red feathers out of my hair and put them in their box. I have hundreds of boxes that go inside boxes. I have a box of boxes of feathers. A box of boxes of seashells. A box of boxes of shoe laces. The really special stuff is in my shoe box. My room is an attic bed room. The attic was split into two different rooms, my room and Zoid’s room. Berry and Bugs share a room and the triplets have a nursery. I’ve just started putting pipe cleaners in my hair when Zoid pokes his head in again. “What!” I don’t normally snap at my brother. That’s another odd thing about our family. We don’t have fights like normal families. Any problems are discussed in public and a compromise is found. And it’s not normal stuff like whose turn is it to do the dishes. And how long should you spend on homework every night. It’s stuff like Can I keep the field mouse as a pet (Berry and mum). And what’s a good age to talk about sex in front of the kids (mum and dad). (Oh and that’s talk in general not personal experience. The answer to that is NEVER! Our family’s freaky but it’s not that freaky.) Zoid’s standing in the door way grinning. He can tell I’m getting impatient but he’s in no hurry. “Oh I just thought whilst I was up here. You know. I’d ask you um. How’s the art project going?” My hand froze hovering in the air. The truth was my project wasn’t going. At all. He could tell from the look on my face. “Not well eh? It’s rotten you got Miss Elgar. Any other teacher and you’d been fine.” He had a point there. There are three art teachers in our school, Miss Elgar, Mrs Rush and Mr Harris. Mrs Rush is young and light hearted and kind. Mr Harris is old and light hearted and funny. Miss Elgar is none of these things. She’s middle aged strict and dull. How she ever became an art teacher is beyond me. Zoid had her the first three years but thankfully he got Mr Harris for GCSE art. They had a few clashes.

In year 7 the class was asked to make a papier mache animal. My brother thought it would be fun to make a Griffin. Mrs Elgar scolded him for not taking the lesson seriously and threw it away. In year 8 they were asked to paint a portrait of a member of their family. My brother drew a caricature of my parents hugging. (I thought it was beautiful and funny. It’s now framed in the living room). Once again Mrs Elgar scolded him. Thankfully he managed to save it from the bin. In year 9 they had to draw a mode of transport. By this point he was sick of her and was extremely defiant. He drew a group of futuristic modes of transport. Including space ships and hover cars. He refused to do another picture and our parents were called in. Our parents just gave Mrs Elgar an earful for trying to ‘ruin his artistic potential’. She also said his name in a really sarcastic way. She does the same to me.

It’s safe to say she’s not our favourite teacher. “So what do you have to do?”

“Create our own version of a historic painting.”

“Oh your own version?”

“Yeh.” We both started spluttering at our own private joke. “What’s going on up there!?” mum called from the second floor. The house is in 3 floors. My room is in the attic next to Zoid’s. Downstairs is our parent’s room. Berry and Bug’s room and the nursery. On the ground floor is the bathroom, kitchen and living room. “Nothing mum!” we both called in unison. We caught each other’s eye and started laughing again. “Fancy laughing at nothing you pair of nutters.”   

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