My Life

My Life

By Yomna Waleed Faisal

You think that I slept for one hundred years because I pricked myself, then a prince—that may I add doesn’t even know my name, and I don’t know his—comes to my rescue, wakes me up, and then we get married, and live in a world with rainbows and fairies?

Well that is absolutely pathetic. You want to know my opinion on that. First, usually when I prick myself, the only abnormal thing that happens to me is this weird red liquid called blood oozes out. Two, if a prince I don’t even know wakes me up, and I do wake up from my hundred years of glorious slumber, I won’t marry him, personally I will slap him, or run away from him. I mean come on; he could be a serial killer. You probably think I’m mean or rude; correction, I’m logical. Look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t think what I’m saying is, how do I say it, umm, realistic.

So you now know that I’m Sleeping Beauty, right? Wrong, when I was born I wasn’t given the name “Sleeping,” and I’m pretty sure my surname isn’t “Beauty.” My name is Aurora Kane. I am eighteen years old. My parents left me when I was thirteen. You see, they were disappointed when they found out that I was not princess material. By that I mean you all think that I’m this girl with perfect curly golden locks and piercing blue eyes, always so preppy and dressed in pink. Yeah, that is Sleeping Beauty. Aurora on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead wearing pink, and has boring, straight, brown hair; grey eyes; and the only thing she has pierced is her lip. Yeah, it was painful, but not as painful as your parents leaving you—queue teardrop. Anyway since my beloved parents cared for me so much they left me, I was stuck for money, meaning I had to find a job, so I did. Meet the top agent in Australia. Yep, all of Australia, but I specialize in Sydney. Oh, and before you say, “How can you be Sleeping Beauty,” I am a pathetic excuse of a sleeping beauty because, every time the clock strikes midnight, I am knocked out cold, well at least until midday the following morning. It’s hard being an agent if you can only work twelve hours a day. So . . . that is me.

Ugh. I don’t want to go to work, but then again, no one does. I got up from my very comfortable and warm bed, to be hit by the cold winter breeze. Just what I need: another excuse to call in sick. But as tempting as that sounds, I’d rather not get fired. In other words, my boss hates me.

I put on my fluffy robe and ran down the stairs. I started the kettle and got a tea bag from the cupboard. I put the tea bag in the hot water and added two teaspoons of sugar. Then I decided to wash my face, while the water was boiling. I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.

“Cold . . .” I shivered. Well I guess that’s what I get for splashing cold water on my face during winter. I also brushed my teeth, and headed back to the kitchen, where the water had finished boiling. I drank my tea and climbed up the stairs so that I could change. I decided on just wearing a plain outfit, I wasn’t doing anything special, and there was no one for me to impress, so what’s the point? Dark clothes for a dark life. Wow, I sound so emo.

When I finished I put on my shoes and tied my hair in a ponytail. I grabbed an apple and my handbag before I headed to my car.

You are probably wondering, “How does she have a car?” The answer is, “She has a job you know, and being an agent provides a lot of bling.” So anyway, I started my car and headed to the agency where I work. Everybody loves me there, except the person that I need to love me. My boss, Genevieve, she absolutely despises me. She thinks I’m a child from the streets, just because my parents left me. Well, one, I am eighteen so I’m technically an adult. Two, I have a house you know, so I am not from the streets.

When I arrived at the parking lot, I parked my car, grabbed my handbag, and headed to the front gates.

“Your identity card, ma’am,” William, our security guard said.

“Will,” I whined.

“Ro,” he mimicked me by using the nickname that I hate. It’s just so girly and . . . ewww. I groaned and handed him my ID.

“Well I defiantly know you’re Ro, you are just as stubborn as her,” he laughed at me, and I rolled my eyes.

I stepped one step into the agency and everyone started informing me about something that I wasn’t able to catch. What? When there are thirty-two people telling you something at the same time it’s quite hard to understand.

I shushed them, then said, “Have Jenna meet me in my office.” Jenna is my assistant, she’s like any other fifteen-year-old you’d find, except she is super smart, which is why she is allowed to be an agent.

Jenna rushed in with a handful of papers. I groaned.

“These aren’t for you, Miss Kane. Oh, and Miss Baxter wishes to see you,” she said. I nodded. Baxter was Genevieve’s surname. Can’t mess with the boss, now can we?

I rushed into Genevieve’s office, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she called. I went inside and closed the door behind me. Genevieve was behind her desk on her spiny chair as usual, but there were also four teenage boys standing in front of her desk.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Kane. Where are your parents?” she snickered. Man, that woman is so testing my patience.

“Aurora meet Luke, Aiden, Mathew, and Cameron. Boys, this is Ro,” she pointed at me.

“Nice to meet you,” Aiden smiled.

“Uh huh. I don’t want to be rude or anything but . . . why was I introduced to them?” I asked, oblivious to the answer I was about to get

“You are their new trainer,” Genevieve smiled. Wow, I only noticed now that she has a heart big enough to smile.

“What about my missions?” I asked.

“Jenna will do them,” she replied.

“YES,” I heard from behind the closed door. Jenna. I rolled my eyes.

“Do we have a deal,” she stuck her hand out for me to shake.

“Deal,” I shook her hand.

***

It was eleven fifty-three and my stupid students wouldn’t let me go. I now understand why Genevieve made me sign a contract saying that I would train these boys for a whole month. It’s been five hours and I have already thought about committing suicide.

“What if there was an intruder?” Luke asked. I groaned then replied, “You press that button.” I pointed to a red button under a poster.

“What if there were two intruders.” Mathew said. I gave him my best death glare. He gulped.

“You still press the button,” I said through gritted teeth.

“And that’s the same with three people?” Aiden asked. I completely ignored him. Cameron opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off. “If any of you asks one more question, I will personally hunt you down. I am an agent. I’m sure you guys are a fry short of a happy meal,” I mumbled the last part, they gulped. But Luke being Luke said, “How can we be happy meals?” I was about to slap him but I heard movement in the bushes.

“Shhhhh, don’t make a sound and don’t do anything stupid,” I warned them, they nodded. Suddenly Mathew’s phone started to ring. I glared at him.

“What is wrong with you?” I hissed. “Sorry,” he mouthed. Oh, so now you’re quiet.

“Oh, so what do we have here?” the intruder said. I started to get light-headed. Oh no, what time was it? I looked at my phone which read eleven fifty-eight. Great, another reason for me to love being Sleeping Beauty. I just hoped the boys remembered to press the red button, but judging by their IQ levels, they wouldn’t. Abandon hope all ye who depend on these idiots. The clock struck twelve and I fell to the ground.

“Did she die” I heard someone say, which made me really question if I was ever going to wake up again, please God, let these idiots press the red button. That was the last thought I had before I was completely unconscious.

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