Not good for you

03;

I threw my bag on my bed and closed my wardrobe door. It was easy and didn't waste too much space.

I always knew that whenever I went on a vacation, I shouldn't pack too many clothes because I always spent all my money on new things that wouldn't be used for a long time.

Then, I always had the nerve to act all shocked when I was out of money.

That might have been why I applied for a night shift during senior year, which almost cost me my finals. My boss wasn't exactly an honest employer, but the job he gave me kept me occupied and paid me quite well. I was an unofficial cleaner at a local pub and spent quite all nights doing the dishes and making the place sparkle again.

I had to give up dancing just to have time and energy for work. I'd been dancing after school for years now, and it was one of the hardest things I've had to do, but I had no choice. But my mom acted like nothing happened, like I didn't make any sacrifices to help her out. She never cared about my hobbies or interests anyway.

My mother's irresponsible spending habits were another reason I got the job, too. She'd always make room for going to the barber every second week, then getting her nails done and painting her eyelashes.

The most ironic thing about her behavior was that she knew her salary wasn't the best, yet she never learned how to handle it. She needed a day or two to spend all her money on unnecessary clothes or house equipment that she'd never use anyway.

I hated that I was starting to become like her. I wanted to be the opposite of her, someone responsible and wise, but sometimes, when I looked into the mirror, I couldn't even see myself; only glimpses of her burned inside me.

One of the main reasons I chose not to spend my summer at home with her was that I needed her to realize I wouldn't always be here to help with the bills or give her money for her night out with her high school friends. I also needed time away because this senior year was awful and exhausting. But at least I've got my friends by my side who were sometimes ruthless and raw, but that was what made them. They never hid their opinions on things, which made me grateful that instead of staying quiet, they were never afraid to voice their thoughts.

That was how they made a lot of enemies, but wasn't that the point of high school? To make friends and enemies along the way while you were exploring yourself and headed toward adult life?

My phone vibrated on my bedside table, so I turned back to grab it when I heard my mother's footsteps.

"You packed everything?" she asked, and I stopped midway.

"Yes, I'm only waiting for Leigh to pick me up," I said, and she nodded.

When a clouded expression washed over her features, I furrowed my eyebrows. Usually, her sudden change was a way of trying to talk some sense into my head, which was hilarious, considering that sometimes she was more childish than I ever could be.

"You know you shouldn't show off, right?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, already tired of her lecture.

She crossed her arms and leaned against my doorframe.

"I meant financially," she said, and I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious, Heddy. I understand that sometimes it feels great to pay for your friends, but they will get used to it and always expect it from now on. Just don't spend your money on anyone; it's not like you'll be friends forever."

I would have agreed if it wasn't her parenting way of telling me I shouldn't spend all my money. She didn't even want to hear about me buying a present for Leigh's birthday, either.

"The last thing you need is having every barfly clinging all over you once you touch your wallet." She rolled her eyes, and I could feel my anger growing inside me.

"Excuse me?" I asked, glaring at her.

She took my infuriated sight in and just shrugged.

"Don't act like you're special," she said, her eyes never leaving me. "Don't think that they are something special— high school relationships barely last. Honestly, I don't even know why you would go. Don't you think that I need you here?"

Her empty but vicious words echoed in my ears. Notice how she said she needed me, not wanted me here because I was her daughter. She just needed someone to rely on once she'd thrown all her money out the window.

There were times when I'd rather scream at the top of my lungs from frustration, and she'd still find a way to blame it all on me.

Before I could say something I'd regret, I grabbed my bag and hurried out of my room, careful not to touch her shoulder once I slipped out the doorway. Starting an argument with her never ended well.

"I don't think you should go," she followed me down the stairs.

"Did ever the thought cross your mind that maybe I want to go?" I asked as I threw my bag down and grabbed my shoes.

She watched me tie my shoes with a scoff, and there was no sign of hesitation on her face.

"Well, if for some miracle you feel that way..."

"I do." I interrupted her. "No miracles involved."

"I'm pretty sure because you feel responsible for them in your way," she tilted her head to the side, her hair falling. "You were always too vulnerable."

I stopped in my movement as her words sliced through me. They were raw, hurtful, and true at the same time. But I would have never thought that she'd go there. And for what? Because I'd be spending my summer with my friends?

Talk about being a responsible parent.

"Vulnerability is not weakness," I hissed, but she wasn't even listening.

"You're right," her eyes met mine. "It's the biggest flaw a person could have, and you are full of it."

I felt like someone had just kicked me in the stomach. She was so flat and calm that it hurt that she never even tried to understand my place. She gave me all of her figure speeches while completely ignoring the fact that she was just as flawed as I was.

God forbid anyone – especially me – who would remind her of that fact.

Trying to swallow my sadness, which was an old habit of mine, I blinked my tears away just when there was a knock on the wooden door behind us.

"Leigh is sure fast," she commented as she walked over to the door while confusion pulled me under the surface again.

Because Leigh has never knocked.

I've been trying to teach her some manners, but she's been fiercer than I could ever imagine. Once, she'd made a note about this in her head, but she always seemed to forget it once she reached the front door of our house. Honestly, I'd just given up after that. You couldn't force anyone to change. Maybe you could inspire or guide them in the right direction, but you'd never be in a position where you could or had the right to change someone.

My mother opened the door, and my heart missed a beat at the sight of our uninvited guest.

Seeley was standing on our porch, wearing his flipped black baseball cap, cargo shorts, and a white undershirt that exposed his muscles. Playing basketball for years and visiting the gym lately really did a number on him.

My eyes fell on a tattoo hidden under his shirt, right on his heart. I couldn't see all of it, but I was sure it represented a chain.

I didn't even know he had a tattoo, but it looked good on his skin.

"Hi there, Violet," Seeley greeted my mother with a smile. My mom's eyes widened in shock, and I forgot for a moment how to breathe.