“But I don’t want to live with that batty, old lady!” I shouted, angry tears pouring down my face. “Why can’t I just live with Jessica for the month?”
My mother and I were in my room. As you might have guessed, we were in a huge argument. Again.
My mom was shipping me off to live with my Grandmother, a woman I had never met- or even talked to for the matter- in
Mossyrock, Washington while she and my step-loser went off on some one-month cruise in the Caribbean.
“Because Anastasia,” my mother said with mock patience. I knew she only used my full name- which I didn’t like to be known
by- to get on my nerves and just liked she had known it would, it did. I had to clench my fists into balls and grit my teeth together to keep from leaping at her. “Jessica and her family are going
to visit relatives and I don’t really think you should interrupt their family reunion by constantly getting into trouble.”
I pursed my lips. Jessica, my best friend, had really wanted me to come with her so I could meet all her family and cousins
that she’s told me so much about. Her parents had said it would be fine for me to go with them. They even offered to take me with them! They saw something in me that my mom and her husband
were blind to, they told me that they saw something special. To be truthful, Jessica’s parents were the reason why I wasn’t a stoner or a vindictive bitch to put it frankly. It may seem like I was
being a little over dramatic, but in all seriousness, I’d rather live in Hell than with these people who called themselves my ‘parents’. Too bad I didn’t a have a choice.
“Then I can stay here by myself, the neighbors can check in on me,” I said stubbornly. “And if you send me off, I’ll take
the first bus I find to get back home.”
“You will do no such thing,” my mother said sharply as she put my most hated possession into my suitcase: a sun dress. I
shivered with revulsion. I wore jeans, shorts, and t-shirts only, along with the occasional mini skirt. I hated dresses with a passion, especially the bright colorful long ones my mom always bought
me. “Knowing how irresponsible you are, you’d probably burn down the house.”
I flinched at her words. Though I would never let it show, how must she distrust me hurt.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t the greatest seventeen year old in the world. I snuck out at night most of the time, never told my
parents where I was, got into fights (which I can proudly say that I won most of the time despite my height of just five foot five and one-hundred and eleven pounds), and I had been arrested once.
Just once, and I can truthfully say I was not guilty of anything. My ex. friend was angry at me because her boyfriend broke up with her and had gone out with me (this was after we weren’t friends
anymore). So she called the cops, sobbed over the phone saying I had broken into her house and taken her diamond necklace. This was NOT true. She had given me the necklace for my birthday (let me
tell you that this gift had been VERY expensive. But my ex. friend had been so rich, you could swim in all her money so she had given it to me and said it was no big deal and that she never really
liked it when I had thanked her). The cops didn’t believe me though and had arrested me and put me in jail. My ‘parents’ had also believed that I had stolen the necklace because according to them,
I was a ‘bad and troubled child’ and refused to pay the bail (not that they didn’t want to, though they hadn’t, they literally couldn’t because my step-loser was a drunk and spent all the extra
cash on his daily beers so we didn’t have any extra money to spare). Jessica and a lot of my other friends (who’s family’s had some money, but not a lot) had come through for me and put there money
together, given it to Jessica’s parents and they had busted me out. Thank the Lord for that! Though I much preferred that place over my ‘home’, the food was terrible. Hmmm….I wonder if Hell has
better food? If they eat there that is….
I shook my head and brought myself back to the present.
“No I won’t,” I muttered. Then in a louder voice I said, “Mother, I’m seventeen years old and perfectly capable of taking
care of myself. There is no way in Hell that I’m going to spend a whole month with some old hag I don’t know in some God Forsaken town that doesn’t even come up on a God damn map!”
“And that attitude right there young lady,” my mother said with one eyebrow cocked up, “is exactly why you’re going.”
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