Not good for you

14;

"Aren't you bored already? It's been weeks." My mother snarled through the phone as I was roaming through the kitchen.

I held back a groan because I didn't want to give her a reason to hold the line anymore. It's been already forty-five minutes since she called me, and all she did was gabble about her boyfriend, her job, and me about being away. Once she opened her mouth, she couldn't stop talking, and she didn't care if she was holding me up or not.

What meant that I wasn't there as a financial backup, and she's got to choose carefully how or when to spend her money now. I already knew how to read between the lines.

She had to act like an adult now, and she didn't like that. I could hear the bitterness in her voice.

"Truth be told, Mom..." I said as I closed the top drawer.

I had too much time on my hands, so I got familiar with the kitchen a little bit. But since I didn't feel like using the oven, I was about to make almond butter no-bake cookies. I wasn't particularly hungry, but a snack was always good if I didn't know what to do with myself.

Seeley had told me to be healthier anyway. Well, this little cookie was healthier than the type of sweets that I've been eating lately. Anyone could see that I was trying.

"Yes?"

"With each day, I become more and more interested and happier, too." I nodded while swirling the pan so the ingredients would be combined flawlessly.

"I find that very hard to believe," she answered in a bored tone. "You were never an outgoing person anyway."

I didn't have the chance to go out. Not while she didn't have a problem spending my money. That was a significant difference. I wanted her to know that her childish behavior always kept me home. I wanted her to see how irresponsible she was with money, but I didn't want to ruin my day with an argument. Even if I was right, she made me feel bad for calling her out.

"I've had too much work," I said, pressing my face against my shoulder to keep my phone in its place.

"Maybe if you worked a little less and focused on your studies instead, like everyone else, then you would have been admitted into somewhere, and now I wouldn't need to be worried about your whereabouts with those wastrels."

My grip tightened around the pan as I concentrated on the ingredients. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from snapping at her. Why did she feel the need to talk down my friends? Why did it make her happy to tell me she didn't like them? One thing was certain: my mother always thought highly of herself and judged everyone else. Not that she could ever be considered a perfect example of a role model, but she'd never admit it. She claimed she had given me everything she could, and I was ungrateful for the sacrifices she made for us. I wondered if she'd ever see the real person she always has been.

"Don't call them that." I clenched my jaw.

"Why?" she asked. "You don't like that I know their kind?"

My stomach turned into a knot. How she talked about them, as if they were so different, made my blood boil.

"I don't like the fact that you judge people you don't even know." I corrected myself, and she cleared her throat.

"Watch your mouth, young lady," she warned me, and I rolled my eyes. "You've really changed for the worse ever since you've been gone. I knew it was a bad idea to hang out with those punks. They've always been a bad influence on you. You nearly failed your classes just to feel like one of them... This mentality will get you nowhere in life. I thought you knew better."

"Is this why you called me?" I asked, getting tired of her dramatic lecture already.

She let out a deep sigh at the end of the line.