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Chapter Two

When you’re sixteen, lying on your floor and listening to some band cover Kelly Clarkson, moving halfway across the country seems exciting, liberating and fucking awesome, right? Right.

But when you’re seventeen and actually getting ready to move away from all you’ve ever known and grown up with, it’s nerve-wracking, anxiety inducing, and fucking terrifying. Just looking at my shitload of different colored suitcases sitting by my front door makes me want to vomit in the decorative potted plants my mom has in the foyer.

Of course, I’m still excited and happy to be leaving, but if I only had one honest thing to tell you, it would be that time flies like a bat out of hell. I never expected this day to come so quickly. I don’t really care if I sound like my eighty-two year old grandmother saying this, but it seemed like just yesterday that I was begging my parents to let me go. Now I’m the one struggling to let go.

My mother has been weirdly cheerful. I woke up this morning to chocolate chip waffles, bacon and a fruit smoothie. She was humming when I stumbled into the kitchen, exhausted from lack of sleep. I was way too excited and kept tossing and turning and unable to sleep a lick at all. It was kind of like a child on Christmas Eve. I almost thought that she had forgotten that I was leaving today until she kissed me on the cheek and said:

“Morning, pumpkin! Big day today, huh? Did you sleep well last night? Gotta be well energized for the trip ahead. I can’t believe you guys are actually driving there. I would have taken a flight myself. Are there too many chocolate chips in these waffles? I know you like a lot, but still…oh! Try your smoothie, it’s strawberry and banana. Your favorite right? Is something burning? Shoot, my toast!”

Fun fact: my mom rambles when she a) is extremely nervous b) talks about George Clooney c) is about to break down crying.

“There’s no such thing as too many chocolate chips, Mom. This is all great, really. Thank you.” I kiss her on the cheek and force the food down to my churning stomach.

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” she says quietly, “It will be the batch of chocolate chip waffles I make for a while.”

I stop mid chew. “Mom.”

She waves her hand. “I know, I know. Sorry.”

I go back to silently gnawing on a piece of overcooked bacon. I don’t really have an appetite because of nerves, but I’m not the kind of daughter to skip out on the last meal her mother will ever cook her.

Jesus, I’m turning into her.

I clear my plate, even though it was a chore and look at the clock on our stove. It’s 8:12 a.m. Britt will be here with the U-Haul truck at 8:30. I head upstairs to my room and shut the door behind me. My room is empty, except for the furniture and the fish bowl for my goldfish that I won at the fair this past month. My bed is stripped of its sheets and comforter, all of that packed into one of the many boxes full of my stuff that’s scattered around my floor.

I scan over the words on each cardboard box, scribbled sloppily in eye pencil because I could not find a sharpie to save my life. Savvy’s clothes, Savvy’s shoes, Savvy’s CDs, Savvy’s books, Savvy’s makeup, Savvy’s school supplies.

I sigh as I read the last box. I’m actually going to college, which I had planned on my whole life, but I just saw everything so differently. I really, really want to go into medicine, children’s medicine specifically, but USC’s med school is fucking insane to get in and stay into. And Britt and Avery will just be in Cali for the hell of it, not having to worry about exams and studying until 3:30 a.m. to take a test at 4:30 a.m. At least Reagan will be attending school with me.