Home Away From Home

1

Walls. Blank walls stared back at me. My mother and I would be moving in a week, all the way to San Francisco. Yeah, it's nice and all, me, my mom, on the California Beaches. That was a good dream, but with every good thing, comes a bad thing. The best friends I had made my whole life, 17 years, in Maine, would be gone. My boyfriend, Carlos, who I had been dating for 1 ½ year broke up with me, cause I'm moving. Sometimes you can't make logical decisions when you're devastated like me. All because my mom got a stupid offer to work for Apple Inc. Blah Blah Blah. I'm happy for my mom and stuff, but missing my friends is not tolerable.

My life was amazing, I had an amazing boyfriend, I was popular, played basketball, and 'A' student, and I was about to get into my final year of High School. But nooooooooo my mom has to get a job offer that ruins her daughter's life.

Rocky Beaches. Sandy Beaches. Rocky, Sandy. Rock. Sand. Those are the words that race through my head as I stomp downstairs. One good thing about moving to California, other than the fact my mom will be really happy.

"Hey, Ciara! Ready for your last day of school?" My mom asks, she just doesn't seem to grasp the fact I'm devastated about moving. She has a cheery smile on and seems to be enjoying the last couple of days in Portland.

"Yeah, sure!" I say fake enthusiastically. What's the point of life when you can't live it the way you would like to? I look at my mom, she has a bright white smile on her face, her skin glowing like honey. She has the lightest brown skin and very curly dark brown hair, kind of like my own. She always wears fancy blouses and mom jeans, what a combination. She always told me that what she wears represents her. Blouses for her work and serious yet beautiful part, and mom jeans for the casual and fun part of her. I smile at her and say I need to go to the bathroom real quick. Closing the door, I turn to the mirror and stare at myself. They say I look nothing like my mom, other than my hair. My curly hair is tied up in a messy bun, and a few strands poke out like bangs on my face. My skin. My skin is pale yet peach, nothing like my mother's. Not glowing, not brown, I look adopted.

But, apparently, my dad looked exactly like me but how would I know how he looked since he died of cancer when I was 2. I look back into the mirror, I have one blue eye and one brown, my mom has two chocolate brown eyes. I'm wearing an untucked white oversized shirt on comfortable and short jean shorts.

I exit the bathroom, finish my breakfast and hop onto the school bus. Even though the school is 15 minutes away from our neighborhood it feels like 30. Once I get to school I hop off the bus and run into my homeroom as soon as I can. I hug my friends, Sara and Mikaylah. 

Sara is tall and has straight blond hair and tanned skin. She wears crops all the time and had like 70,000 bracelets up her arm. She's beautiful, I'm not. Mikaylah is black and has long black braided hair which trails down her back. She's the lots of makeup but hoodie and sweatpants kind of girl. I've known her since kindergarten and Sara since 3rd grade, both have grown really close to me. We go into the girl's bathroom, and I glance at my reflection. It haunts me.

A/n: Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter! I started this a year back but never really finished the chapter, but I'm glad I finally posted it. Please check out my book Bus Story and don't forget to vote and comment! I love hearing from you guys because you all have such creative ideas. Anyway bye!💕😁q(≧▽≦q)