Eventually [#Wattys2015][h.s.]

Chapter 1: Goodbye Seattle

A/N: The first chapter is here! Yay! I would really appreciate if you could vote, comment, and basically give me any feedback that you can because I have worked really hard on this story. It might seem boring at first with the first few chapters, but I promise that it will turn wild, dramatic, and fun-filled once the story gets flowing! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks xoxo. 

A few months earlier:

"Ew." I claim, twirling my spoon in what was supposed to be oatmeal. It obviously isn't, it just looks like vomit. I shovel the watery grains with my spoon and tilt the spoon sideways, watching with disgust as the soupy food fall back into the bowl. Is this how it's supposed to be?

Actually the real question is: What the heck is in this?

I curiously get up and open the black cabinets, scrummaging through the boxes until I found the one Elisabeth used to make my breakfast.

"Hot Oatmeal: made with organic, wild steel cut oats from Asia. Gluten-free, soy-free, sugar-free, low sodium and vegan. Original."

Well, no wonder it tastes like crap. There's literally nothing in it that makes it taste good. Then again, I never know what tastes good since I am only allowed to eat organic food like this. The last taste I had of real, gluten full, sugary food was at Jacob Keller's 7th birthday, shoving my face with cake, pizza, and ice cream. Once I got home, I vomited all over my mother's Prada shoes.

After that incident, my parents put me on a strict "lifestyle" of real, organic food. 8 years of living that "lifestyle" and sometimes it was good because I ate fruits and vegetables, but moments like this one make me realize that it wasn't all that wonderful. Eating strictly organic food isn't food.

It's just crap.

"Serena!" I hear my dad calling my name. I groan and walk over to to the dining room, holding the box in my hands. While holding the box, I take my time to read it because this will be the last time I'm eating this crap until I don't know how long.

Wait a minute, I take that back. My mother is even more strict than my father, so I bet I'll be eating worse food than this.

Great.

"Why do you torture me?" I yell out, finally coming into contact with my father. My father turns around wearing a collared shirt, but with no tie. Well that's a bit strange because he always wears a tie. He must be looking for it.

"Torture you how? And have you seen my tie?" My father's eyes look at me shortly before moving to the couch in the den. I knew he was looking for his tie; I know him so well.

His hands reach between the cushions and after a few minutes of his arms being stuck in there, he finally pulls out his favorite gray tie.

"Food like this?" I stare at the box in pure disgust. "Must you and Elisabeth purposely torture me by feeding me crap?"

My father chuckled. "We'll get you something non-crappy on the way to the airport. But I would hurry, you have a plane to catch in an hour."

"It better be donuts." I point at my father as I climb the stairs, running away to my room while I hear his laughter behind me.

I can hear the cabinet doors open and close downstairs, the sound of my dad frantically eating breakfast himself before going to the airport. I begin to feel a knot in my stomach and with every second that goes by, the knot grows. I pull my loose jeans on and by now, the knot is unbearable. 

I let out a shaky breath, still not believing I'm actually going home. 

I spent the last week worrying about going back home, even though this has been my home for the last 5 months. Every day, I've made sure that I've packed every single item I would need when I get back home and prepared for my first day of freshman year at Bush-Worth High, although I always thought that my first day would've been on the actual first day of school.