My New Room-Mate

I smiled softly, closing my eyes and inhaling a breath of fresh air. It couldn't be a more beautiful day.

I was leaned against an oak tree, dressed in a pair of jean shorts and an old T-shirt. My pale skin was covered in goosebumps, hands tracing up and down my bare arms absently. Rain was splattering onto the tips of my worn-out shoes as they peeped just out of the sheltered spot, the occasional splotch of water falling from a leaf and dropping onto my shoulders or head. I couldn't see further than a few metres down the drive, the heavy sheets of rain casting grey onto everything. 

The muffled sound of my phone ringing snapped me out of my daze, making me jerk. Damn.

I turned to watch the belted satchel beside me for a moment, just listening to the generic ringtone call out. I knew exactly who it was and what they had to say. It continued to ring, over and over, until finally it stopped.

I leaned forward and pulled the satchel into my lap, digging through it to fish out my old Nokia. Its screen was blank, even after I smushed the 'on' button a few times with my thumb. Smacking it into my palm a few times, I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the oak as it sputtered back to life, waiting for it to display the details of the missed call. 

1 Missed Call - 5:52PM.

MUM. 

My nose scrunched up involuntarily as I threw the phone back into my bag. Not ten seconds later, it started to ring again, and once more I let it ring itself out. The good thing about having the world's most ancient phone was that it couldn't record voice mail messages, so no-one could ever claim to have "left a message". 

It took me ten minutes and three more phone-calls before I finally stood up and dusted off my legs, not caring as my dark hair got snagged in a few low twigs on the tree. I grabbed my satchel and swung it over my shoulder, stepping out into the rain and slowly strolling my way up the drive, kicking a stone in front of me.

The silhouette of a small car came into view as I neared the top of the road, parked on a careless angle behind the picket fence. I readjusted my satchel, my mouth settling into a grim line as I saw my mother sitting behind the wheel, strumming her long nails against the dashboard. As soon as she caught sight of me, she rolled her eyes and leaned forward to turn on the ignition.

"Chlora," she acknowledged as I opened the door, chucking in my bag before I slid into the seat, not giving a rat's ass that I was dripping water onto the faded leather. 

"Mum," I muttered back, propping my arm against the window sill and running a hand through my tangled hair. The car was silent for a few minutes, the sound of rain hammering down on the roof and the click of an indicator the only things to be heard.

"I called you," Mum finally said, her voice clipped. "Six times."

"Five, actually," I corrected, not turning to look at her.

"Five too many," she growled out, flicking on the windscreen wipers. I rolled my eyes.

"Five too few, in my opinion," I retorted. "But what can I say? You and I have never shared similar views." 

"Chlora," she smacked the heel of her palm against the steering wheel, turning to shoot me a harsh look. "Stop contradicting me! You disappeared yet again, you didn't answer my calls yet again. Get a grip! The world doesn't rotate around you, so stop acting like it does and quit wasting everyone's time."

 "Oh, I'm sorry," I threw my hands up mockingly, anger flushing my cheeks. "I forgot that it's my fault you decided to move to us to Australia and leave Dad behind, it's my fault you got shacked up by Rob and it's so totally my fault that you and Dad got a divorce. It's me who's responsible for your screwed up second marriage and screwed up second-marriage kids, because I am the screw up, right? I'm the selfish one, isn't that what you think? It's all ME."

Mum clenched her hands around the steering wheel but didn't reply, turning the corner into our street. Familiar houses flew by as I forced back tears, glaring out at the naturestrip as the car slowed down. We pulled bumpily into the driveway, jostling around until the car stilled and Mum pulled the keys out of the ignition.

Tense silence followed, until she finally said, "You can get yourself to school tomorrow. For the week, actually, and you can find your own way to football."

"Fine," I muttered back, clicking off my seatbelt and opening my door.

"And you're banned," she added. I paused, closing my eyes and willing it not to be what I knew it would. "You're banned from that stupid cemetery. I'm sick of you disappearing off into it, it's weird and I'm over it."

"That's not fair," I ground out, not turning around. Tears were stinging at my eyes once more. "The cemetery is the only place I'm comfortable in."

"Yeah, well sometimes life isn't fair," Mum replied, opening her door and getting out. "I would've thought you'd have realised that by now."