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Yes, Danny, We Packed Our 'Girl Supplies' - Allie

Fast forward to July 6th. Danny rewrote an entirely new information packet and printed one for each of us. Let's see... places to go, itinerary, packing supplies, restaurants (Actually, this one says “Restaraunts We Can Go To With Allie.” Not my fault I'm a vegetarian.)

The day we leave is crazy experience, especially for me. My parents are STILL trying to convince me to go to Amsterdam, and I'm quadruple checking that I have everything packed.

Plenty of shirts. Check.

Plenty of pants. Check.

Shoes. Check.

Hoodie. Check.

Makeup. Check.

Hair shit. Check.

Books, laptop, ipod, phones, et cetera. Check.

Chargers for laptop, ipod, phone, et cetera. Check.

Pillows, blankets, stuffed animals. Check - I even dug Wilson, my stuffed teddy, out of my closet.

“Girl supplies.”

Oh, God, Danny, why would you write that?

Is he afraid we're gonna get shit-faced horny or something? Or is he just being Danny? With him, I have no idea. Probably perverted Zach put him up to it. Good ol' perverted Zach. Hopefully...

I drag my suitcase and bag of stuff to entertain me in the car outside and sit on my lawn. I'm there for approximately point five seconds when Leah, my little sister, comes outside.

“Dad wanted me to ask, are you sure you want to go to Seattle?”

“Read my lips: Y. E. S. I'm not going to Amsterdam.” So they can shove that idea up their asses for all I care.

“Okay!” Leah skips back into the house. At the doorway, she screams at the top of her voice, “SHE SAID NO!”

“WELL, ASK AGAIN!” I hear Dad yell back.

“Allie, are you -”

“I AM NOT GOING TO AMSTERDAM, DAD!” I scream.

“SHE DOESN'T WANT TO GO!” Leah screams my reply, as if Dad didn't hear it when I screamed it.

“WELL, TELL HER SHE'LL REGRET IT!” Dad screams right back.

"Allie, you'll regret -”

“I DON'T CARE, DAD! I AM GOING TO SEATTLE WITH MY FRIENDS!” I scream. Scream, scream, scream. Thank God Meg pulls up in her car, with Danny buried in maps and atlases at shotgun.

I claim the seat behind Meg, dumping my suitcase in the trunk and dropping my other bag at my feet. “Hello, friends.” I say. “Let us now get me away from the hell that is my family.”

“On it.” Meg says, and speeds the entire way to Zach's house. No questions asked, they already know. Zach climbs in, disentangling himself from Reed. Possessive bi'atch, I think. Jesus, he's gonna call you every day. No need to strangle him. My good-bye to Mike took ten seconds.

I never liked Reed. She's always been a little too attached to Zach, practically begging him to stay away from Meg, Danny, and me. Plus, she has a squeaky voice and relishes eating every and any kind of meat around me. Normally, I'm fine with it, but she does it in a smug, “you-don't-know-what-you're-missing,” kind of way. Actually, I do know what I'm missing. By abstaining from meat, I am missing the chance to support businesses that murder. And by not supporting murder, I am preventing more murders from happening just so I can have a freaking McRib. Or chicken nuggets. Or bacon. And on and on.