Homesick

A Fresh Start

My high school graduation was three days ago, and taking a leap year would be a great way for me to decide what to do with my life - but my parents are not enthusiastic about the idea.

Since I began school, they have set high standards for me, whether it be straight A's or maintaining my quote-on-quote flawless record.

This has led to my mental health deteriorating. Luckily for me, I have Nickolas and Klara. They are the two people I can always turn to when I am overwhelmed by stress.

The car silence is unbearable.

My mother shares glances with my father and rubs his arm assuringly.

Making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror my Father clears his throat.

"I wish you would stop and think about this. You are throwing away your life Charlotte."

I felt a pang in my chest.

My whole life I've strived for perfection, not for me but for my parents.

Before I can defend myself my mother says that I should also know her two cents.

"Your father is right, everyone knows there is no such thing as a leap year. You will keep pushing off going to college. Do you know how embarrassing it is to tell our friends that our daughter is not going to college?" Disappointment rings throughout her voice.

"I still plan on applying to Stanford. I just need time."

"Time? Time?! Are you taking the piss out of this situation? You've had eighteen years to figure this out! "Hell, we've figured it out for you" He spat out.

I can't help but agree with him. My whole life they've had it planned out since I was born; go to Stanford to carry on the legacy and become a neurosurgeon, get married to a well-off man no later than thirty.

I feel shame. I let them down. I anxiously smoothed out my dark green dress, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me.

The ride felt like seven hours but it was only twenty minutes long. I look out the back seat window and see my grandparents' lavish house.

"Do we tell your Mom Charlotte is taking a leap year?" My mother says looking at my father before getting out of the car.

"No, that would kill her."

Hearing that made me dizzy. Stepping out of the car I see a large line of cars parked outside their house. Knowing they are all here to celebrate my graduation makes me uncomfortable. I try to keep my balance whilst walking in four-inch black heels.

Once we reach the door my father knocks on the door and my mother turns and looks at me and frowns.

"What an awful color on you," she says whilst tucking my bang behind my hair.

As the door opens I am met by my grandma with a huge smile on her face. She curled her salt and peppered hair and wore a formal bright blue dress.

As she pulls me into a hug, she says, "Oh, my Char bear, come inside!"

I instantly feel better. Although my grandmother is a lot she has given me more comfort than my parents ever have.

Once our embrace is broken she takes me inside and introduces me to all of her high-brow friends. All giving me shallow compliments or advice I can't remember. Since Nickolas and Klara are my only friends attending my graduation party, I can't help but wonder where they are.

"Charlotte!" I hear a recognizable voice call me -- Klara.

I turn to see Klara and Nickolas. Klara is wearing the nicest thing I've ever seen her wear. She is wearing a jean skirt and a pink turtle neck with her long blonde locks flowing down her back. Nickolas is wearing light-colored cargo pants and a white button-up with his wavey hair doing whatever it wants. I nearly ran to them.

I embrace both of them tightly and the sharp pain in my chest disappears. They are my home.

"Slow down cowboy, we just saw you yesterday" Nickolas laughed patting my shoulder.

"Yeah well, it felt like years," I say smiling for the first time today.

"Where are the drinks?" asks Klara.

"Well considering we aren't twenty-one yet, thesparkling waters are in the fridge"

"Gross rich people's water," she makes a fake gagging noise. As she walks off to find any other beverage than Satan's water as Klara likes to say. Leaving just me and Nick.

I've known Nickalos longer than Klara. He was the only kindergartener who talked to the quiet kid. I can still remember him with his messy brown hair and big green eyes asking me if I wanted to play with Legos with him.

"What's wrong Lotte?" This is a nickname he has used for me since we were five, I hate it but it's somewhat endaring.

I am taken aback. He somehow always seems to know when I'm struggling.

I swallow the lump in my throat every time I'm asked how I feel. I tend to get emotional because it's rare when someone cares enough to ask or notice.

"Parents."

"Oh...does it have anything to do with---"

"Uh, yeah" I cut him off before he finishes his sentence. I feel too ashamed to bring it up.

He studies my face for a few seconds before making an offer.