Living Lax

Prologue

My story starts out with me running down the street, leaving an enraged neighbor with a bat behind. Granted, my friends were still back there, just beginning to run after me. But they’d never catch up. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe this story starts with earlier today when mother told me we were moving to New York. Or maybe it as was when my friends and I decided to play a pickup game of soccer in the park and I ended up nailing a ball through the second story window of the house across the street. Hence the enraged neighbor. I mean after all, that’s why we were all running. But I didn’t know why we were moving. Correction: I didn’t want to know, because I didn’t want to leave. As usual, it wasn’t up to me. People always say you have a choice. But a sixteen year old, five foot-three Puerto-Rican and Native American girl is definitely the exception to the rule. Those people needed to shove it. Me? I had no choice. My input did not matter. But it should have, shouldn’t it? After all, this was a life-changing decision. I didn’t have much experience with that, but I at least should’ve been given an option, right? Of course, if it were up to me, I would’ve moved us back to Puerto Rico, where we were happy. But that didn’t mean anything, did it? After all, that wasn’t even on the list of options.