#edficone

One. (repost, I can't find the first time I posted it)

“Sweetheart, are you almost ready?” My mother called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Unfortunately.” I snapped.

My mother was sending me off to my aunt and uncles. The thing is, she doesn’t know how we set it up. I’ll start off with my mom first. Her name is Caroline. She drinks a lot and is only home between the hours of eight at night and six in the morning.  We were close until I was twelve and able to stay at home by myself, safely. Then she started going out with her friends more, had quit her job and was relying on the money my dad had to send us for child support. Now, my dad on the other hand is a complete other story. We aren’t close, but it’s not like we hate each other. When I was twelve and my mom began going out, he started getting into more fights with her. Saying things like, how she should be home with us more and how she never does her part in being a parent. A week after my thirteenth birthday, he moved out and I’d spent every three weekends at his house until two Summers ago.

My last week of eighth grade, my mom decided to pack us up and moves us to Los Angeles, which is a reason I’d stopped seeing my dad as much. Then, LA typically being a place for parties, my mom began going out more. I was always made fun of in middle school and I didn’t have a lot of friends, and not having my mom around as much only made it worse. I wasn’t horribly bullied or anything, but bullying isn’t a good thing whether it’s heavy or light. So, that Summer, my boobs finally grew and my body basically developed. I dyed my hair a lighter shade of blonde and went tanning a lot. Stereotypical Californian, I suppose. I’d seen at my last school that all the snobby bitches were the ones with a lot of friends, so that was the attitude I put off. It was like a switch. I changed completely. My mother, being so absent all the time, she barely noticed.

Now, back to moving with my aunt and uncle. My grandparents are British, but they passed before I was born and my mom had moved to the states when she was my age, which is where she met my dad. She’d lost her accent almost completely, unless she’s overly drunk or angry. My aunt and uncle stayed there, since there wasn’t really a reason for them to come over here. I’d only visited them a few times before my mom went completely wannabe-teenager. A year ago, I’d started talking to my aunt about trying to move out there, and eventually with  a lot of planning and lying, it convinced my mom.

For my last year of high school, I’d come home when my mom would be leaving in the morning, and she’d be pissed. Then we’d get into a fight, and I’d say something like ‘it should be okay for me to do it, if you do it!’. then she’d storm off to God knows where. So, my aunt told my mom that they had a great, very strict education system for Uni in London. Of course, my mother jumped to it when she realized that her only responsibility would soon be gone. I’d faked that I didn’t want to go, but she never gave it a second thought.

“You’re going to be late for your plane.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foor at the bottom of the stairs.

“It’s not like it matters to you,” I sighed heavily, “you aren’t even taking me there.”

“I can’t!” She flung her arms up in defense, “I have work. I love you, call me when you land.”

She came in for a kiss that I dodged, so she just ended up hugging me. I could smell the faint liqour on her and I eyed her suspiciously.

“You’re drinking already?” I wheeled my stuitcases outside while she followed. We loaded them into the cab and I looked over at her.

“It’s going to be a long day, my baby is leaving me! I needed to destress some how.” She shrugged and headed to her car.

“As if you actually care.” I muttered under my breath and looked at the house I wouldn’t be seeing for a while. Slightly hoping my aunt and uncle’s house was either the same size of bigger. Our home had three bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms and was two stories. Three including the basement. I like a lot of space and feel suffocated in a smaller, cluttered home.

I watched my mom pull away before I got in the cab. I sighed with relief as I sat in the back seat. I watched the house I’d spent my high school years in, slowly fade away. We left the gate that enclosed our small, private neighborhood.