CHAPTER 1
I opened my light blue eyes to buttery sunshine flooding through my window; no surprise despite the fact it was December 7. I live in Atlanta, Georgia, an always warm, always sunny place. The trees were always a brilliant green, the air always warm, and clouds rarely blocked the sky.
I detested it. Nothing against Atlanta itself, it was just too green, too bright, too hot. . . The air was thick and the humidity was high, and the unforgiving sun constantly beat down on my forehead. Maybe it's just me, but I fail to understand how anyone could possibly live in a place with even this much heat. But I wasn't going to let that bother me today. Today was my 16th birthday, and I was pretty much free to do whatever I wanted to. I've been awaiting this day for years.
I've needed an excuse for my . . . abnormal behavior for 90% of my life. I've never been what you would call average. My opinions have always been different, my preferences have always been different, I have always been different. I’ve always wanted to seem as normal as everyone else (by their definition, anyway) and I’ve lived in an environment that’s difficult for me to . . . be myself. That’s why I’m always so quiet, so comfortable alone. Now I have a freedom I haven’t had before. It probably won’t change my oddity, but it’ll be nice to not have to explain my behavior.
I sat up in my bed and looked around my room. The only colors in my room were blue, black, purple, and white. My walls were a rich passion blue, my big bed with lavender sheets and a dull purple cover sat against the same wall the door was on. I had one purple shelf with five sections to it on the corner parallel to my bed, one mirror hanging on the wall to the left of the shelf, a T.V. to the right, and a desk for all of my school stuff, CDs, and books on the parallel wall to my window over the T.V.
I reached out to my dog, Luna, and scratched her ear. I'm a very. . .night-ish, cold-loving, darkness type of girl, and I so named her after the moon. (No I'm not Goth, just misunderstood.) Luna was a black husky/hound mix: her ears, paws, fur length, and mouth shape were the hound in her, the eyes, tail, chest, fur texture, and legs the husky. She was the only one I could talk to. She knew just how I felt about the cold, the simplicity of the darkness, the black nights filled with stars, the comforting sense in the silence. . . She was just like me; a social outcast, an oddball . . . just different. And yet, we're okay with that. We don't mind the quiet alone time we're so used to. Again, she’s the only one I can talk to without her thinking I’m a freak . . . except Samantha.
Samantha is my only true friend I can talk to about my problems. She always knows what to say, when to say it, and how to get me back to my happier self (she never let me be sad for long). Although she had plenty of her own problems with her brother, she always talked with me and tried to help me improve my situation. Samantha and I are so different in so many ways, but oddly, we're very close. (Whoever made up that “opposites attract” thing knew what he was talking about.) We've had our own ups and downs before we were like we are now, we've even been enemies, but now we're inseparable. The only bad part to our friendship is she lives 15 min away by car. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but since we only have one car that only Heather can use for work, and I usually never want Samantha over at my house because I’m afraid Heather'll bring a low-life guy here, we never see each other. And It's 40 minutes away on foot, and in this blistering heat, it’s way too hot to even walk halfway. But I still see her at school, and this year, she’s in 4 of my classes and my lunch period (there are 3). And we have 1st hr together
I smiled wryly to myself and cooed, "Wake up Luna." She groaned and opened her eyes; one a shiny silver, one a crystal blue. Then, as if she realized what day it was, she smiled a tired doggy-smile and crawled into my lap. She licked my cheek and pawed my chin, my long brown hair braiding around her front legs. I freed her and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, or tried to I should say; Luna kept climbing on me, making the simple task exceedingly difficult. I tried not to smile as I snatched her haunches between my knees. She yelped in playful complaint. I grabbed a ponytail off of the windowsill next to my bed and tied it around my hair. I released her from my legs and hugged her to my chest. I hopped out of bed and carried Luna downstairs. Halfway down the stairs, however, my mom, Heather, and my little sister, Shane, met me.
"Happy Birthday Isabel!" Heather said, smiling. She always called me Isabel, even though she knew I preferred to be called Bella.
Heather was a skinny, unnatural blond 33 year old who liked to think she was 21. Her blue eyes were a lagoon aqua color, and her tanned skin was also unnatural. She put on a lot of makeup, she would wear my clothes, drank a lot, and went to parties and dates all the time. She was a good mother, in a way, because she was always involved in her children’s school life, she never missed a special event . . . But she always brought men home from a bar (if they didn’t take her home, leaving me to take care of Shane, which I didn’t mind doing if Heather had a good reason), she did a few drugs, and was sometimes inappropriate around Shane. But, besides her personal life and casual mannerisms, she tries to be a good parent and provider. She’s responsible enough toward us, there’s always dinner on the table and a game system or two for us to play on a big flat screen, and an expensive house to live in.
Heather made good money. Her social worker job was good paying. Mostly because she got a good online degree . . . which took her 6 years to get. She procrastinated, and so she had to “pull a few strings” as she put it. I say she cheated her way through school.
I smiled half-heartedly and muttered, “Thanks, mom.”
Shane ran toward me and hugged my leg. “Appy birt-day, Bewwa!” she yelled, a bit too loud. I sank down to her level and set Luna down.
“Thank you Shanie,” I said more genuinely as I hugged her. I scooped her up in my arms and Luna made a face. I smiled and Heather stepped forward and hugged us both.
“So what are you now, 13?” she teased, then laughed at her joke like it was the funniest thing in the world.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that. You’re just saying that to make yourself feel younger.” I replied.
“Oh screw that. Do I look my age?”
I laughed my fake laugh and then Shane touched my cheek with her little hand, demanding my attention. She hates to be left out for any length of time.
“Time fow cayk now?” she asked in her high voice, her silvery green eyes in a hopeful pout. She twirled a piece of her straight, light brown hair, almost to her shoulders now, around the finger of her other hand. Her bangs nearly reached her eyes. Her baby face was nearly irresistible to deny.
I laughed. “Cake for breakfast?” I asked.
“Not now,” Heather cut in. She refused to be left out. “Isabell has to open her presents first.”
She grabbed the arm that wasn’t holding Shane and pulled me to the living room. She sat me on the black leather couch across from the big entertainment set. In front of me on the glass coffee table, were 5 presents. I smiled and put Shane on the sofa to my left, forcing Heather to sit next to her, not me. (By the way, I didn’t hate her; I just needed my space from her . . . a lot of space.)
The first present was a flat square, wrapped in sparkly silver paper and baby blue ribbon like all the presents. I took it and ripped the paper off. It was the newest Sugarland CD.
What made her think I wanted this? Nothing against Sugarland, but they aren’t really my type.
“Thanks,” I said, putting on my fake smile.
“It’s cool isn’t it? I got it at Best Buy. It was on sale, and I knew you’d love it,” Heather said.
Gee, thanks. “On sale”. I grimaced mentally.
“Upen mine nest! Upen mine nest!” Shane squealed with delight, bouncing up and down on the couch. She pointed to a small box.
“We’ll save yours for later,” Heather said. “Open the big one.” It sounded kind of like a command. But, instead of starting anything, I did what I always did and ignored it.
I took the big present about half my size and lifted it into my lap. It felt like a basket. I tore the paper off and found my hypothesis was correct. It was a basket with a big purple bear and lots of sweets under it. Stitched onto the bear’s stomach in white cursive letters was “happy birthday”. Hmm, a comparatively decent present. Shane must have picked this out, I thought to myself. Heather would never pick something like this out. She always got presents better suited for a 14 year old city girl; lip glosses, popular CDs, Prada bags, etc.
“Thank you mom,” I said, my fake smile still in place despite my inner annoyance.
“You like it?” She smiled. She could tell I liked this present a lot more than the CD, and the satisfied expression on her face told me she was taking credit for Shane’s gift, and was glad she did
“Yes,” I said simply, a vague matter-of-fact tone in my voice.
“I’m glad. Open these two next. They go together.”
The other two were a video camera, because I specifically asked for it, and a computer link for it she said she got for free at the store. I thanked her for it and turned to Shane with her present in my hand.
“Do you want to open it for me?” I asked her, only because I knew she really wanted to.
“Reawe? Yaaay!” she cheered, snatching it from me. She ripped at the paper, making me laugh. Heather cleared her throat conspicuously, but I pretended not to hear her.
When Shane finally tore off the last of the paper, I saw a dark navy velvet case, probably for earrings from a diamond store. Shane handed me the little box and I felt my eyes prick.
“I sawed it in a stowr and I thawt et wus purtty, and momma said et wus yer brirt stown,” she said in a quiet, anxious voice.
I pinched the lid with my fingers and opened it. A little silver locket with dozens of tiny tanzanite gems embedded on the face rested on soft white velvet.
“Oh, it’s beautiful Shane.” I lightly pulled the locket out and weighted it in my palm. It was so pretty, so beautiful . . . I couldn’t find the right words to say.
“Do you like it?” Shane asked.
I shook my head. “I love it.”
She smiled. “Me too!”
I chuckled and said, “Help me put it on.”
She hopped up, but Heather stopped her. “Let me do that for you.”
I frowned to myself, but turned to her with a smile. “Okay,” I said reluctantly.
She snatched it out of my hands and threw it over my head, pulling it a bit too tight around my neck. She complained a few times about almost breaking a nail trying to open the clasp, but eventually got it. It sat just at the hollow at my throat.
“You really like it? I thought you didn’t like to wear jewelry. I would have gotten you a matching bracelet or something if I knew you’d like the necklace,” Heather said, checking her nail.
“Wook imside, Bewwa! Wook imside!” Shane cheered.
I delicately opened the locket. Inside was a picture of Heather on the right and Shane on the left. A lump rose up in my throat.
“Thank you Shane,” I managed to choke out after a moment. “You couldn’t have given me anything I’d have loved more,” I said as I stared at the gems on the front.
“Yowr wewcome sissie. Time fow cayk now?”
I laughed. “Yes, time for cake now.” I said as I stood up and headed for the kitchen.
Heather jumped back into the conversation, eager to be part of it. “I got the perfect cake. It’s ice-cream cake, naturally, your favorite,” she gushed, proud she knew my favorite cake.
When we got into the kitchen, a white cake with lavender-colored icing and blue gel writing sat in the center of the large dining table. The table was decorated with violet cloth and purple and blue confetti scattered on top. Wow. This was kind of perfect. Not too grand, and it seemed just right . . . for me
“Wow, umm, thanks. It looks great,” I said.
“Really?” Heather said. “I was hoping you might. I’ve tried everything when it comes to you; big parties, small parties, family gatherings, the whole nine yards.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, umm, sorry about that. I know I’m kinda hard to decipher, and…,” I trailed off. I really didn’t know she was really…trying, I guess is the right word. But I thought she just did whatever she wanted when it came to my birthday, or any holiday whatsoever, really. I guess I misjudged her. As the awkward silence got louder, I got more self-conscious. So it made both Heather and me jump when Shane started talking in her soprano high voice.
“Cam we hab cayk now?” she asked, her tone impatient.
I smiled as I looked at Heather and said, “Can we?”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Oh, I guess so,” she said in a teasing voice.
“Yaaay!”
Heather cut the cake and we all ate a piece before we decided to save the rest for dessert tonight. Right after we got done watching my second favorite movie night combo (second only to the Twilight Saga and the Vampire Diaries), Paranormal Activity and the T.V. series Paranormal State-only because it scared the crap outta me- there was a knock on the door. Heather answered it (she always answers the door because of the countless boyfriends she’s had who’ve wanted either money or a “new start” or something) and smiled.
“Guess who-ooh!” she sang.
I gasped and started laughing. “Oh my gosh
We all watched my favorite movie (The Twilight Saga, of corse) and the rest of the day was pretty normal. I should have known better to think today would be this good.
I was sitting in my bed that night in front of my new bear and marveling at my locket once again when Heather knocked on my door.
“Hey, honey, can I come in?” She sounded anxious. Not usually a good sign.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound oblivious.
She came in and sat down on the foot of my bed, a good 2 feet between us. Oh no, I thought in panic. This is bad . . . She cleared her throat to speak, anxiety thick on her face.
“I’m just going to come out and say this,” she said not looking at me. “My boss told me that there’s a . . . meeting. . . in France.” She paused then threw in “which I have to attend.”
Those two little words changed my life. Of course, nobody knew it yet.
My eyes widened in shock. In France?
“I’m not moving to France with you mom,” I said, the words popped out, swift and hard, without my permission. Though they were true, I didn’t want to tell her this way I wasn’t going.
“Oh, of coarse not. I didn’t expect you to.” That was all she said.
Silence again.
“Then, what do you plan to do with me and Shane? Huh?”
“Well, I’m going to take Shane with me. And . . . I talked to Justin and your father and asked him if you could go stay with him at his hotel and-“
“Whoa, back up!” I interrupted. “You talked to dad about this? Am I the only one who didn’t know about this? And all of a sudden you spring this on me? And on my birthday! How long have you known you were moving?” I know it was a bit immature of me to yell like this, but I was beyond any self control now. I was vivid with anger. I just couldn’t believe this! This was classic Heather.
“Well . . . I’ll only tell you if you promise not to be too upset with me. I’ve tried to tell you, but I was too worried about your reaction.” At first she was sheepish, but then she glared at me. “As I was right to be.”
I took a deep breath and held it until I was sure I could handle myself. I exhaled and said, “Okay. I promise I won’t go off on you.” I couldn’t promise not to be mad at her.
She looked down. “About two and a half months,” she mumbled.
I had to cover my face with the bear to control myself. I wanted to scream, growl, cry, breakdown, hit, all at the same time. At this moment, I hated heather like I’ve never hated her before.
Then a different pain came. A panicked sadness.
Shane.
My head whipped up. Hmm, my eyes were wet. I didn’t even notice. I almost couldn’t speak; there was a huge lump in my throat blocking my airways and preventing conversation.
I was surprised Heather hadn’t interrupted to defend herself yet. She just sat there on my bed, waiting for me to reclaim control of myself. Maybe she didn’t want to defend herself. Maybe she didn’t know how to.
“Shane?” I asked after a while, finally able to talk again.
“I told you; she’s coming with me. Your father thinks she’s just an extra person to take care of, so he wouldn’t take her. And I couldn’t find anyone else willing to take her.”
I listened to her story, shocked. She’s just giving us to other family members. This isn’t right. She can’t be legally allowed to do this.
“Wait a minute. How long will you be in France?”
“Oh, only about a month or two. Why?”
Hmm, two months, give or take a few weeks if she meets a French guy. Then something sank in. Something my subconscious was trying to keep me from realizing.
My heart started pounding with a force of a chopper’s blades. My breath came quick and shallow. It felt like the air I was breathing wasn’t the right kind of air that kept me from suffocation. It was hard, stale. I couldn’t get my lungs to use it.
I opened my light blue eyes to buttery sunshine flooding through my window; no surprise despite the fact it was December 7. I live in Atlanta, Georgia, an always warm, always sunny place. The trees were always a brilliant green, the air always warm, and clouds rarely blocked the sky.
I detested it. Nothing against Atlanta itself, it was just too green, too bright, too hot. . . The air was thick and the humidity was high, and the unforgiving sun constantly beat down on my forehead. Maybe it's just me, but I fail to understand how anyone could possibly live in a place with even this much heat. But I wasn't going to let that bother me today. Today was my 16th birthday, and I was pretty much free to do whatever I wanted to. I've been awaiting this day for years.
I've needed an excuse for my . . . abnormal behavior for 90% of my life. I've never been what you would call average. My opinions have always been different, my preferences have always been different, I have always been different. I’ve always wanted to seem as normal as everyone else (by their definition, anyway) and I’ve lived in an environment that’s difficult for me to . . . be myself. That’s why I’m always so quiet, so comfortable alone. Now I have a freedom I haven’t had before. It probably won’t change my oddity, but it’ll be nice to not have to explain my behavior.
I sat up in my bed and looked around my room. The only colors in my room were blue, black, purple, and white. My walls were a rich passion blue, my big bed with lavender sheets and a dull purple cover sat against the same wall the door was on. I had one purple shelf with five sections to it on the corner parallel to my bed, one mirror hanging on the wall to the left of the shelf, a T.V. to the right, and a desk for all of my school stuff, CDs, and books on the parallel wall to my window over the T.V.
I reached out to my dog, Luna, and scratched her ear. I'm a very. . .night-ish, cold-loving, darkness type of girl, and I so named her after the moon. (No I'm not Goth, just misunderstood.) Luna was a black husky/hound mix: her ears, paws, fur length, and mouth shape were the hound in her, the eyes, tail, chest, fur texture, and legs the husky. She was the only one I could talk to. She knew just how I felt about the cold, the simplicity of the darkness, the black nights filled with stars, the comforting sense in the silence. . . She was just like me; a social outcast, an oddball . . . just different. And yet, we're okay with that. We don't mind the quiet alone time we're so used to. Again, she’s the only one I can talk to without her thinking I’m a freak . . . except Samantha.
Samantha is my only true friend I can talk to about my problems. She always knows what to say, when to say it, and how to get me back to my happier self (she never let me be sad for long). Although she had plenty of her own problems with her brother, she always talked with me and tried to help me improve my situation. Samantha and I are so different in so many ways, but oddly, we're very close. (Whoever made up that “opposites attract” thing knew what he was talking about.) We've had our own ups and downs before we were like we are now, we've even been enemies, but now we're inseparable. The only bad part to our friendship is she lives 15 min away by car. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but since we only have one car that only Heather can use for work, and I usually never want Samantha over at my house because I’m afraid Heather'll bring a low-life guy here, we never see each other. And It's 40 minutes away on foot, and in this blistering heat, it’s way too hot to even walk halfway. But I still see her at school, and this year, she’s in 4 of my classes and my lunch period (there are 3). And we have 1st hr together
I smiled wryly to myself and cooed, "Wake up Luna." She groaned and opened her eyes; one a shiny silver, one a crystal blue. Then, as if she realized what day it was, she smiled a tired doggy-smile and crawled into my lap. She licked my cheek and pawed my chin, my long brown hair braiding around her front legs. I freed her and pulled my hair back into a ponytail, or tried to I should say; Luna kept climbing on me, making the simple task exceedingly difficult. I tried not to smile as I snatched her haunches between my knees. She yelped in playful complaint. I grabbed a ponytail off of the windowsill next to my bed and tied it around my hair. I released her from my legs and hugged her to my chest. I hopped out of bed and carried Luna downstairs. Halfway down the stairs, however, my mom, Heather, and my little sister, Shane, met me.
"Happy Birthday Isabel!" Heather said, smiling. She always called me Isabel, even though she knew I preferred to be called Bella.
Heather was a skinny, unnatural blond 33 year old who liked to think she was 21. Her blue eyes were a lagoon aqua color, and her tanned skin was also unnatural. She put on a lot of makeup, she would wear my clothes, drank a lot, and went to parties and dates all the time. She was a good mother, in a way, because she was always involved in her children’s school life, she never missed a special event . . . But she always brought men home from a bar (if they didn’t take her home, leaving me to take care of Shane, which I didn’t mind doing if Heather had a good reason), she did a few drugs, and was sometimes inappropriate around Shane. But, besides her personal life and casual mannerisms, she tries to be a good parent and provider. She’s responsible enough toward us, there’s always dinner on the table and a game system or two for us to play on a big flat screen, and an expensive house to live in.
Heather made good money. Her social worker job was good paying. Mostly because she got a good online degree . . . which took her 6 years to get. She procrastinated, and so she had to “pull a few strings” as she put it. I say she cheated her way through school.
I smiled half-heartedly and muttered, “Thanks, mom.”
Shane ran toward me and hugged my leg. “Appy birt-day, Bewwa!” she yelled, a bit too loud. I sank down to her level and set Luna down.
“Thank you Shanie,” I said more genuinely as I hugged her. I scooped her up in my arms and Luna made a face. I smiled and Heather stepped forward and hugged us both.
“So what are you now, 13?” she teased, then laughed at her joke like it was the funniest thing in the world.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that. You’re just saying that to make yourself feel younger.” I replied.
“Oh screw that. Do I look my age?”
I laughed my fake laugh and then Shane touched my cheek with her little hand, demanding my attention. She hates to be left out for any length of time.
“Time fow cayk now?” she asked in her high voice, her silvery green eyes in a hopeful pout. She twirled a piece of her straight, light brown hair, almost to her shoulders now, around the finger of her other hand. Her bangs nearly reached her eyes. Her baby face was nearly irresistible to deny.
I laughed. “Cake for breakfast?” I asked.
“Not now,” Heather cut in. She refused to be left out. “Isabell has to open her presents first.”
She grabbed the arm that wasn’t holding Shane and pulled me to the living room. She sat me on the black leather couch across from the big entertainment set. In front of me on the glass coffee table, were 5 presents. I smiled and put Shane on the sofa to my left, forcing Heather to sit next to her, not me. (By the way, I didn’t hate her; I just needed my space from her . . . a lot of space.)
The first present was a flat square, wrapped in sparkly silver paper and baby blue ribbon like all the presents. I took it and ripped the paper off. It was the newest Sugarland CD.
What made her think I wanted this? Nothing against Sugarland, but they aren’t really my type.
“Thanks,” I said, putting on my fake smile.
“It’s cool isn’t it? I got it at Best Buy. It was on sale, and I knew you’d love it,” Heather said.
Gee, thanks. “On sale”. I grimaced mentally.
“Upen mine nest! Upen mine nest!” Shane squealed with delight, bouncing up and down on the couch. She pointed to a small box.
“We’ll save yours for later,” Heather said. “Open the big one.” It sounded kind of like a command. But, instead of starting anything, I did what I always did and ignored it.
I took the big present about half my size and lifted it into my lap. It felt like a basket. I tore the paper off and found my hypothesis was correct. It was a basket with a big purple bear and lots of sweets under it. Stitched onto the bear’s stomach in white cursive letters was “happy birthday”. Hmm, a comparatively decent present. Shane must have picked this out, I thought to myself. Heather would never pick something like this out. She always got presents better suited for a 14 year old city girl; lip glosses, popular CDs, Prada bags, etc.
“Thank you mom,” I said, my fake smile still in place despite my inner annoyance.
“You like it?” She smiled. She could tell I liked this present a lot more than the CD, and the satisfied expression on her face told me she was taking credit for Shane’s gift, and was glad she did
“Yes,” I said simply, a vague matter-of-fact tone in my voice.
“I’m glad. Open these two next. They go together.”
The other two were a video camera, because I specifically asked for it, and a computer link for it she said she got for free at the store. I thanked her for it and turned to Shane with her present in my hand.
“Do you want to open it for me?” I asked her, only because I knew she really wanted to.
“Reawe? Yaaay!” she cheered, snatching it from me. She ripped at the paper, making me laugh. Heather cleared her throat conspicuously, but I pretended not to hear her.
When Shane finally tore off the last of the paper, I saw a dark navy velvet case, probably for earrings from a diamond store. Shane handed me the little box and I felt my eyes prick.
“I sawed it in a stowr and I thawt et wus purtty, and momma said et wus yer brirt stown,” she said in a quiet, anxious voice.
I pinched the lid with my fingers and opened it. A little silver locket with dozens of tiny tanzanite gems embedded on the face rested on soft white velvet.
“Oh, it’s beautiful Shane.” I lightly pulled the locket out and weighted it in my palm. It was so pretty, so beautiful . . . I couldn’t find the right words to say.
“Do you like it?” Shane asked.
I shook my head. “I love it.”
She smiled. “Me too!”
I chuckled and said, “Help me put it on.”
She hopped up, but Heather stopped her. “Let me do that for you.”
I frowned to myself, but turned to her with a smile. “Okay,” I said reluctantly.
She snatched it out of my hands and threw it over my head, pulling it a bit too tight around my neck. She complained a few times about almost breaking a nail trying to open the clasp, but eventually got it. It sat just at the hollow at my throat.
“You really like it? I thought you didn’t like to wear jewelry. I would have gotten you a matching bracelet or something if I knew you’d like the necklace,” Heather said, checking her nail.
“Wook imside, Bewwa! Wook imside!” Shane cheered.
I delicately opened the locket. Inside was a picture of Heather on the right and Shane on the left. A lump rose up in my throat.
“Thank you Shane,” I managed to choke out after a moment. “You couldn’t have given me anything I’d have loved more,” I said as I stared at the gems on the front.
“Yowr wewcome sissie. Time fow cayk now?”
I laughed. “Yes, time for cake now.” I said as I stood up and headed for the kitchen.
Heather jumped back into the conversation, eager to be part of it. “I got the perfect cake. It’s ice-cream cake, naturally, your favorite,” she gushed, proud she knew my favorite cake.
When we got into the kitchen, a white cake with lavender-colored icing and blue gel writing sat in the center of the large dining table. The table was decorated with violet cloth and purple and blue confetti scattered on top. Wow. This was kind of perfect. Not too grand, and it seemed just right . . . for me
“Wow, umm, thanks. It looks great,” I said.
“Really?” Heather said. “I was hoping you might. I’ve tried everything when it comes to you; big parties, small parties, family gatherings, the whole nine yards.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, umm, sorry about that. I know I’m kinda hard to decipher, and…,” I trailed off. I really didn’t know she was really…trying, I guess is the right word. But I thought she just did whatever she wanted when it came to my birthday, or any holiday whatsoever, really. I guess I misjudged her. As the awkward silence got louder, I got more self-conscious. So it made both Heather and me jump when Shane started talking in her soprano high voice.
“Cam we hab cayk now?” she asked, her tone impatient.
I smiled as I looked at Heather and said, “Can we?”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Oh, I guess so,” she said in a teasing voice.
“Yaaay!”
Heather cut the cake and we all ate a piece before we decided to save the rest for dessert tonight. Right after we got done watching my second favorite movie night combo (second only to the Twilight Saga and the Vampire Diaries), Paranormal Activity and the T.V. series Paranormal State-only because it scared the crap outta me- there was a knock on the door. Heather answered it (she always answers the door because of the countless boyfriends she’s had who’ve wanted either money or a “new start” or something) and smiled.
“Guess who-ooh!” she sang.
I gasped and started laughing. “Oh my gosh
We all watched my favorite movie (The Twilight Saga, of corse) and the rest of the day was pretty normal. I should have known better to think today would be this good.
I was sitting in my bed that night in front of my new bear and marveling at my locket once again when Heather knocked on my door.
“Hey, honey, can I come in?” She sounded anxious. Not usually a good sign.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound oblivious.
She came in and sat down on the foot of my bed, a good 2 feet between us. Oh no, I thought in panic. This is bad . . . She cleared her throat to speak, anxiety thick on her face.
“I’m just going to come out and say this,” she said not looking at me. “My boss told me that there’s a . . . meeting. . . in France.” She paused then threw in “which I have to attend.”
Those two little words changed my life. Of course, nobody knew it yet.
My eyes widened in shock. In France?
“I’m not moving to France with you mom,” I said, the words popped out, swift and hard, without my permission. Though they were true, I didn’t want to tell her this way I wasn’t going.
“Oh, of coarse not. I didn’t expect you to.” That was all she said.
Silence again.
“Then, what do you plan to do with me and Shane? Huh?”
“Well, I’m going to take Shane with me. And . . . I talked to Justin and your father and asked him if you could go stay with him at his hotel and-“
“Whoa, back up!” I interrupted. “You talked to dad about this? Am I the only one who didn’t know about this? And all of a sudden you spring this on me? And on my birthday! How long have you known you were moving?” I know it was a bit immature of me to yell like this, but I was beyond any self control now. I was vivid with anger. I just couldn’t believe this! This was classic Heather.
“Well . . . I’ll only tell you if you promise not to be too upset with me. I’ve tried to tell you, but I was too worried about your reaction.” At first she was sheepish, but then she glared at me. “As I was right to be.”
I took a deep breath and held it until I was sure I could handle myself. I exhaled and said, “Okay. I promise I won’t go off on you.” I couldn’t promise not to be mad at her.
She looked down. “About two and a half months,” she mumbled.
I had to cover my face with the bear to control myself. I wanted to scream, growl, cry, breakdown, hit, all at the same time. At this moment, I hated heather like I’ve never hated her before.
Then a different pain came. A panicked sadness.
Shane.
My head whipped up. Hmm, my eyes were wet. I didn’t even notice. I almost couldn’t speak; there was a huge lump in my throat blocking my airways and preventing conversation.
I was surprised Heather hadn’t interrupted to defend herself yet. She just sat there on my bed, waiting for me to reclaim control of myself. Maybe she didn’t want to defend herself. Maybe she didn’t know how to.
“Shane?” I asked after a while, finally able to talk again.
“I told you; she’s coming with me. Your father thinks she’s just an extra person to take care of, so he wouldn’t take her. And I couldn’t find anyone else willing to take her.”
I listened to her story, shocked. She’s just giving us to other family members. This isn’t right. She can’t be legally allowed to do this.
“Wait a minute. How long will you be in France?”
“Oh, only about a month or two. Why?”
Hmm, two months, give or take a few weeks if she meets a French guy. Then something sank in. Something my subconscious was trying to keep me from realizing.
My heart started pounding with a force of a chopper’s blades. My breath came quick and shallow. It felt like the air I was breathing wasn’t the right kind of air that kept me from suffocation. It was hard, stale. I couldn’t get my lungs to use it.