Rooftop

1.

My box filled with classic rock records was the heaviest. I don't quite know why that is. I mean, I never once went on a giant shopping spree for them. I would just sit in the shop after school every day, and just listen to the music. I would generally just pretend to be doing homework, and would occasionally buy something from them so that they wouldn't kick me out.

    I load the box into the back of the moving van along with everything else, before sliding the heavy metal door shut, almost catching my fingers under it. My mom walks out of the house and goes up to the driver of the moving van, who is currently smoking a cigarette next to the house. After he sees her he discreetly throws it to the ground, and puts it out with his shoe.

    "We'll be leaving in 5 minutes. Make sure to be ready to follow us to the new house by then," She tells him in a sharp tone, obviously stressed out from everything going on. She walks over to me and tells me to go into the Ford, and wait for a couple of minutes so that she can make sure we didn't forget anything. After a couple of minutes she comes out with my headphones in her hands. She quickly hands them to me then goes up to the moving truck driver to tell him we're leaving. He steps into the truck and we start driving off with him following.

    "Are you excited?" She asks after we get onto the highway.

    "I guess," I tell her. Anything would be better than here.

    "Come on. Could you be less vague?"

    "Yes," I answer with a smile, just to bug her. But in reality I am glad that we're moving. No one here could really empathize, or even agree with anything I said. We had different religious and political view, and any time I would say anything it would always go back to those profound and controversial differences we had. And since I pretty much refuse to lie about what I believe, unless there is a literal gun pointed at my temple, that didn't help me make friends. Most of the teachers didn't even like me, for the exact same reasons.

    The good thing about moving to California is that the town we're going to have my same views, so I'm very excited to be able to say what I really think and then not have people think that I'm some sort of a psychopath.

    I start to feel the moving of the car lull me to sleep, but try to fight it by grabbing another Diet Coke from the bag of snacks we brought along, and chugging it down. As much as I hate to admit it, I absolutely love Diet Coke, even though I know for an absolute fact that it's terrible for my body. But I just tell everyone I drink it for the caffeine and no one asks me about it anymore after that. Though, that's probably because I offended them in some way with my views during that conversation.

    I plug my earbuds in and listen to some music for a couple of hours, until the playlist has repeated itself four times, then take them out to look out the window again.

    "We're in Nevada," She says looking over at me. I look out the window and see the sign pass by us, "What's the first thing you plan on doing after we're done unpacking?"

    "I'm probably just going to go out and get a cup of coffee, maybe look around a little bit in the process. See the sights." I try to look a little bit passive and grumpy, to fit in with my normal persona. I hope that the coffee shop is just as good as the one back in Arizona. That shop, and the record store were the only things that weren't absolutely terrible about where I lived. I could walk three quarters of a mile at any time of day or night, and pick up the best Americano I have ever tasted. That was usually my go-to study spot because everyone in there had pretty much the same two goals in their mind: get coffee, and get some work done. If you wanted to socialize, you would go to the back room. If you wanted to cry, you stayed in the corners. If you wanted to work, sit in the middle of the room, where the counter to order at was, just in case you started to feel tired. They were unwritten rules, but everyone would instinctively follow them, and if they didn't, they would figure it out, by the funny look everyone else would give them.

    We stop at a gas station, that I run into quickly, to grab a few things to eat. My mom said to grab the healthiest-looking thing they had, which should be pretty difficult, considering the fact that it is a gas station. Nothing here will be great for you.

    I pick up a six pack of Diet Coke, a bottle of water, some dried fruit, and an energy drink, which, after I pay for it, I chug down before I get back to the car, because, in my mom's words "they are rat poison that you can drink," which is a little hypocritical because she drinks more Diet Coke and coffee in a day than I do in a week.

    I jump back into the car, fully awake now, and trying to hide my jitters, which are now a mix between excitement, nervous energy, caffeine, and sugar. Even if she did notice, she never brought it up, which could just be because she doesn't want there to be fighting in the new house, too. Which I can understand. I never was a fan of it either.

    I start to doze off into a daydream as I watch the cars on the other side of the rode pass by us in a blur that reminds me of Superman.

*****

    "Why the hell would you tell her that, Columbia?" Daddy yells at me from across my bedroom. I hold onto the teddy bear Momma gave me when I was born.

    "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

    "Because of you, we're getting into a divorce." He still hasn't stopped shouting at me. I turn away from him, and start to cry. I really didn't think that it mattered that Momma knew about the pretty lady that came over to our house today, but Daddy thinks it's bad that I told her.

    After my sobs get louder, and my tears come more quickly, Daddy leaves my room, shutting the door behind him. He goes downstairs, and Momma starts yelling, too. I try to cover my ears with pillows, but it doesn't seem to help. This was all my fault.

Ello! So what do you guys think? Is it better than the first version (which I have deleted from my account)? Please leave a comment anywhere on the story telling me what you liked and what I could do better. And, just so you know, I'm going to update this story every Sunday. Sorry this authors note is so choppy, but I really need coffee right now, but am way too lazy to actually get some.
~Fawn