Here We Are

-Introduction-

I groan and collapsed onto my bed as I hear another moving van pull into our driveway. I blow away the little strands of hair that annoyingly rest on my face as I stare up at the ceiling, studying its odd patterns.

Here we go again.

I have barely lived in the town of Addison, Alabama for two months and I am already packing up my things and moving to another place. It seems that all I do in my life, pack and move, pack and move, pack and move. . .

Well it was cool the first couple of times. But, after the thirteenth time you move it can get a little annoying.

You see, when I was six, my dad got promoted to CEO of his huge company. And for some strange reason he has to move twice a year, and he decides to take us along with him. He says, "It will make us closer as a family,"

Boy, is he wrong.

Little does he know, my mother and I are always at eachothers throats. We never agree on anything and we are too close to killing one another. But, of course he wouldn't know that because he is gone 12 hours a day, and right when he comes home he goes straight to bed. Not even a "hello," or "how was your day?".

And little does he know of my older brother, James, secret. Well no one knows, every night he sneaks off to his room and video chats with someone, and in the morning the same thing. Sometimes even, he will mysteriously disappear for days at a time. We have no idea where he goes, because when he gets home, he acts like he has been home the whole time.

I'm really scared for him.

But my dad wouldn't know that. Because he doesn't pay attention to anything.

He especially doesn't pay any attention to me or any of my problems. He ignores me and I'm surprised half the time when he remembers little things such as my name and my birthday. Wait, scratch that. He thinks my birthday is James, and James's birthday is mine.

Anyways, I don't think he knows anything about raising kids. Because he thinks it's a "great idea" for me to go to every high school at every single move. You can say I am quick to adjust, because by the time I pack my locker with my things, just as quick I'll be unpacking it.

Also, at these schools, there is always the typical stereotype. Jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, outcasts, "druggies". It's quite exhausting actually, seeing new people, introducing myself, remember their names, and when my classes are. I'm surprised I actually pass. . .

For some strange reason, that this move just might be different. I don't know how it will be different, but it's just a strange feeling. . .

I am probably just kidding myself though.

My rambling thoughts soon crumble around me when I hear the ear shattering sound of the moving van beeping it's horn. Telling me to hurry my butt up and bring down boxes. I sit up in my bed and look over at the box labeled "Books". I laugh and pick up the one labeled "Stuffed Animals".

I walk down the stairs and successfully open the door with my foot, I do an internal celebration party for this weird accomplishment. And proceeded to haul the boxes into the moving van. 

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~Rose