We Are Home

chapter 3

Jessica Williamson Kirsty, I soon found out, was not fan of Charles'. To be fair, he did glare at her the entire duration of our visit, because my mother had decided to enter his huge house behind me. I saw her nose twitch at the extravagance of the place, but ignored it. He had this idea, and it was a valid idea, that all of the evils and unfortunate things that had taken place from my childhood to present day were a result of my parents. So, yeah, he did scowl at the blonde woman, and she did wrinkle her nose at him.

My biological mom drove the Mercedes Benz, my father riding shotgun, with my suitcase int he trunk of the car. My faux leather purse (real leather was expensive) sat on my lap. In it were my house keys, my phone, my wallet, a pair of earbuds, a pack of cigarettes, and my favorite lighter. I wore my favorite t-shirt, the one with Charles' and my names printed backwards. Jonathan Kirsty, Jessica's husband and my biological father, did not understand the shirt whatsoever. He'd asked what it meant, and I hadn't answered.

Jonathan stayed in the car as I went into Charles' place to say goodbye to him. It didn't hit me that I was actually leaving everything-leaving my friends, my aunt, my house-behind to live with parents, who both had a knack for abandoning people. I was absolutely insane.

Charles' house, which he shared with his brother and his two perfect parents, was ginormous. It was a mansion, with a proper wrought iron gate, marble floors, a huge staircase, and everything. It was also a building that triggered a lot of anger over Charles. He would rant about how it was just a show of wealth on his parents' part, and how they were shallow and mindless. I didn't have the heart to tell him that having a mansion, even for shallow reasons, was better than having a tiny little run-down home.

"Lena," Charles said. I had the keys to his house, which my mother found strange (her lips pursed when I had opened the front door). He had been sitting at the long, dark kitchen table, his foot tapping, when I had entered. He stood up and rushed to hug me. Then he noticed the woman behind me.

"You're a bitch," he told her bluntly. She gasped and started to say something.

"You have no-" She sputtered.

"Shhh, Jessica," I shushed her mockingly. I hugged Charles tightly, breathing in his scent. She shut up, albeit with a huff.

"I'm going to visit you, okay? And I'm going to call you every day and we can talk about the new student and Angelina and Mackenzie," I said. I was trying not to cry. My stomach was turning. My parents were taking me to a suburb, called Ravenswater, a couple hours away, so I could still take the bus to see him, but it wouldn't be the same. I was going to miss my best friend.

"Okay, Lee," Charles said into my hair. The embrace was over to quickly.

Charles turned towards the table and lifted a small black box to me. It was flat, and its dimensions resembled those of a large book. An orange bow had been wrapped around it. He handed it to me.

"This was supposed to be a birthday present, but I think you kind of need something to cheer you up right now," he said. I took the box and dropped it into my purse. I wasn't about to open it in front of my mother.

"What is it?" I whispered. He shook his head.

"You'll see. Remember to visit me, okay? We're still best friends."

"I know," I said softly.

And then it was time to say goodbye, even though I didn't want to. I didn't want to leave this mansion, even if it was a pretentious building, because I didn't want to leave my best friend.

Charles and I had been best friends for a very, very long time. He stood up for me, and I stood up for him, and we gave each other strange and wonderful gifts (he had given me a fluffy purple armchair one year. I had gotten him a set of rainbow pom-pom pens). We would (and had to) remain that way.

My mother cleared her throat as we left, giving one last glare at Charles before the expensive wooden door shut behind us and he was out of sight. He rushed to the front window and waved to me as I walked to the car. I waved back, got into the back seat of the car once more, and then my family-but-not-family was off.

The car ride was awkward. Awkward, but it would have been a nightmare if I hadn't brought my earbuds. The moment we pulled away from the mansion, I plugged them into my phone and started listening to my random selection of music: pop, rap, classical, rock, etc. About ten minutes into the car ride, when we had passed about a quarter of the town, I pulled an earbud out.

"Can I still go to school here?" It seemed a silly question to ask, but I had to ask it. I really, really wanted to stay at Laketon High, even if it had the charm of a dump-truck and the personality of a rock.

"No. You're going to go to Merkley Private College Preparatory," my (basically brand-new) father said from the driver's seat.

"Why?"

"Because it's much better than the public school here," he said firmly. His firmness fueled my need to argue.

"Just because it's public? Laketon has a good, um, softball team," I defended the high school.

"You're going to attend Merkley."

"Ugh!" I put my earbud back in and rested my feet against the back of the passenger seat just to annoy my parents.

For the rest of the car ride, my back was hunched in the backseat over my phone, on which I was ranting to Angelina about my parents. I told her how they were making me attend some private school in Ravenswater, and she told me that she would miss me so much and I had to visit. We didn't discuss why I had gone with them, because I didn't want to face the truth. There was a tiny, minuscule possibility that I was in this care because I wanted to live with them, because I wanted to know my parents.

I knew that most of me absolutely hated the two people in the front of the car, with years of built up rage. I knew that because I had forced myself to hate them. When I was younger, I had dreamed of them walking up to the small house and telling me that they had never meant to leave me, and taking me to live in a cute little house on the good side of town. Then I realized that there is no point in getting your hopes up. Now, here I was, in a car with the enemy, driving somewhere that I had never been. I was both terrified and excited (but mostly terrified).

Then my mother dropped the bomb.

"I'm sure you'll just love Jenna," she said casually.

"Who's Jenna?" I asked suspiciously.

"Your sister."

Wow. I'm so surprised.

jk. I knew that was going to happen.

please read and vote and comment and stuff!!!!

-Lauren Emmy