So Close To Being In Love

Amelia Scott's p.o.v;

"He tossed the trash in our garbage can again this morning." My father raged at my mother about the neighbours.

"What were you doing as he dumped the garbage? How come you didn't stop him before he did that?" Mom returned his question.

"He dumped it when I was already there."

"Then hurry up tomorrow, even before he drops the crap in our garbage can!"

I was preoccupied with the food on my plate rather than their chat about the neighbours.

I'm not sure when it started, but my parents have been feuding with my next-door neighbour for as long as I can remember. They compete in almost every sport. And by everything, I mean everything. In business, cooking, clothing, and even while making offerings to monks. My mother said she competed with the neighbour about having a boy and a girl in the future when the neighbours began boasting about having a boy and a girl, and it came true. My brother and I were born in our family, just like them. My parents and neighbours didn't waste any time in naming us after the first letter of the alphabet for both of us. Because our families fought and competed with each other in nearly everything, we ended up as adversaries as well.

After we were born, our parents competed based on how well we studied and how disciplined we were. When I received first prize in school, my mother walked me to the front door and congratulated me so that the neighbours might hear her. And our neighbour does the same thing when her son receives good grades. This also applies to my brother. After finishing high school, my parents competed based on our grades to see who would get into university first.

His father was overjoyed when his son was admitted to a prestigious institution, so my father forced me to study hard so that I could compete with him in his faculty as well. My father's dream was granted when I was admitted to the same university as him, but fate had other ideas for me, and I ended up in a different faculty, the Faculty of Western Music, while he was in the Faculty of Classical Music. My father was disappointed, but he encouraged me to earn the student of the year award so that I could compete with him. Urgh!

Returning to reality,

I took out my phone and checked the time. It's 7 am. It's already time for the first hour. I hurriedly completed my breakfast and told my mother, "I have some work in the library, so I'll be late today, Mom."

"Did you take the report you'd been working on overnight?" Dad inquired.

"Yes, Dad."

"Did you complete it?"

"Yes, dad."

"How many points will you get?"

"Dad! It's simply a class report. This is not a semester exam."

"OK," he asked again. "When will the student of the year award be given at your university?"

"Dad, the college has only been open for a week. If you really wanted that student of the year award, I'll go steal it for you. What do you think?"

Mom whacked me on the head and yelled, "Don't talk like that to your father. Come ahead, make an apology to him."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Does it hurt?" Dad asked as he patted my head.

I grinned and shook my head at him.

"Did Ash awaken?" Mom inquired.

(My older brother, Ashton, is also known as Ash.)

"He wasn't in his bed when I checked the room while hunting for a file cover. I believe he left early for football practice. Okay, Then I'll go to college. Bye, see you later."