Love, Drugs, and High School

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Annabelle

          A trip back home—I couldn’t handle this. How was I supposed to go back home, after I had just gotten somewhat comfortable here? “Pack tonight.” My uncle said, catching me even more off guard than I already was. “We leave first thing in the morning.” It was hard for me not to envy his calmness.

          After packing a few short things, I fell asleep only to have the wakeup call that came too soon. Honestly, all wakeup calls are too soon. “Annabelle,” my uncle pushed, “we have to get going! Your mother wants you there as soon as possible.

          Just groaning and shrugging my shoulder, I put together the outfit of jeans and a sweatshirt. “Why are we going?” I asked groggily. For some reason, it had never occurred to me to wonder.

          He ignored my question, ushering me into the car and assuring me that we would get breakfast on the way.

          It didn’t take very long before he got all of the stuff in the car and started to drive. This seemed too familiar…being in the car with my uncle and driving back home. Memories…ones that I really didn’t want to remember.

          “Are you going to answer my question?” I snapped. It was early in the morning. The least he could do was have the courtesy to clue me in on exactly what was going on.

          “And what would that be?” He replied, but we both knew what the question really was. Right now, it was too early to go through this.

          “Do you want to tell me why I’m missing school, why I’m just packing up my bags and leaving, and why I’m going back home, most importantly?!” The trees were whizzing by us and we pulled onto the highway, just beating the morning traffic.

          “Your mother wants you.” His response was short and to the point, which couldn’t have worried me more. I mean, I know that girls tend to over analyze things, I do it all the time, but something wasn’t right.

          “Uncle, I have a cell phone, she has a car, this must be serious business if she pulled me out of school to see me.” The realization was sinking in, and I didn’t like it one bit. Why would my mother not just call me? If it was that important where she needed to do it in person, then why not just drive up and talk to me? It was—at the most—a thirty minute drive, if that. Something had to be wrong.

          “It’s best if we wait to talk about it until we see your mother.” That was all he said. He didn’t try to change the conversation or ease the tension, which was very out of character for him.

          Since talking seemed out, I decided to look out the window. What I never realized was, was that on the highway, there are so many memorials. All the car accidents…car accidents…Emmett. Tears clouded my vision.

          My phone started to buzz, but I didn’t care. I just disregarded it and threw it in my bag in the backseat.