Joe

There are cooking smells coming from downstairs. Curry. My favourite thing that Mum cooks, without a doubt. It smells delicious from here. And it’s making concentrating on my revision almost impossible. Not that I was finding it easy to concentrate on Geography anyway.

After staring at the same page of my textbook for ages I give up on revision and go downstairs instead. I go into the lounge, where Kate’s already sitting – or I should say, lying – across the sofa. She’s watching crap music videos on the TV, as usual. I budge her up and she tuts and sighs. And then we sit in silence, gawping at 100 Alternative Anthems. As we’re sitting there vegging, the front door opens and Dad and Granny come in. Granny perches on the sofa and asks a million embarrassing questions about each music video, like, ‘How can you tell what the words are when he’s shouting like that?’ Me and Kate sit and smile.

After a bit, Dad steps into the lounge. ‘Curry’s ready,’ he says in a pretend Indian accent. He puts his hands together like some dodgy stereotype of an Indian waiter.

Granny laughs. I cringe. Kate tuts. But we all go through to the dining room.