When the New Girl Cries (on hold)

Who do we have here?

Author's Note: Hi guys! I just want to say thank you for reading! I'd appreciate if you guys would comment some suggestions for my writing. Thank you!!
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"Mom, I really can't go. I can't do this," I say.

I can't be going. Not today. I have to make a story. And fast.

"I'm going to be sick! Where's the bathroom in this house," I yell, over reacting. I already know where the bathroom is, I just feel safer knowing my mom is there.

We moved into this house 2 days ago. I know I'm going to dread it already. It's a one story, small, old house. I don't feel right when I'm alone. I can feel something isn't right. My mom and I are all alone. My dad left us for the woman he cheated on my mom with when I was 8. He was everything I wanted to be when I got older. Now, I can't even think about him without being disgusted.

My mom grabs me by the wrist with a disgusted face. She drags through the hall, passing the kitchen and living room into a small room which looks like the bathroom.

Nothing's in there yet except for the toilet and a small sink. Not even a bath or shower.

I slam the door shut so she can't see that I'm making fake vomit. I use some peanut butter cups I grabbed from the table next to the entrance of the kitchen. I crumbled them up and smushed them all together to make a gross dark tan color out of the mixed peanut butter and chocolate.

I threw most of the fake vomit that didn't really look like vomit into the toilet and smeared some on some toilet paper to look like I wiped it from my mouth.

I walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen and threw it into the trash can since we don't have one in the bathroom yet. I made sure my mom could see the toilet paper so she wouldn't accuse me of lying.

"Mom, do we have a thermometer?" I asked. I know I have some tea in my bedroom, so that could make the temperature go up.

"Here," she said after she went into a box labeled bathroom and tossed the thermometer to me.

I could tell she was annoyed with me. Today is Monday. I don't even want to think of what those kids at the public school are going to say about me. I really don't want to go.

I take the thermometer out of the plastic container and stick in in the tea. I let it sit there until it reads 101.2. I also use my palm to create friction on my forehead in case my mom wants to feel my forehead to check if it's hot.

I take out the thermometer and run to the kitchen. I slow down when I'm visible to my mom. I begin walking with my head down. I hand her the thermometer.

"It's really high. I think I should wait till tomorrow for my first day. I'm not even really prep-"

"Stop it Mackenzie. I know you're nervous but you have to go. You're going to be fine. I've already told your principal that you would meet her this morning. Now get ready."

Shoot. It was worth a try, right? Whatever. Maybe she's right. I'll probably be fine, you know? How bad can teenagers be?

I've always been homeschooled since 6th grade. We used to have enough money to support ourselves. Now, since my mother got fired, she hasn't been able to get another job. I would get a job, but I'm only 13. Nobody wants a 13 year old little girl working for them. I would probably mess everything up anyways. We had to give our house to the bank and buy this one. Mom says it was really cheap. The other guy who owned it apparently went missing. After 5 years passed and no one had found him, they put the house up for real cheap. Of course, it was pretty much the only thing we could afford to have some money left for food.

I walked back to my room and went through my boxes to find some denim jeans, a white shirt, and a flannel jacket. I changed and brushed my hair to make myself look somewhat presentable.

"Honey, you've got 10 minutes to eat. I've got some poptarts out for you on the counter." She yells.

"Ok mom. I'll be right there."

I scurry over to my nightstand to get my phone. I walk into the kitchen and start eating my strawberry poptart.

I don't have any service on my phone, of course. I do have wifi though.  Since we don't have any internet at our house, our neighbors let us use their wifi. My mother gives them 50 dollars a month so we can use their wifi to make calls and check our emails, even though  I do more than that. I check my snapchat for anything from my friends from 5th grade, when I was in public school. Of course, I get nothing.

I turn off my phone ringer and slip it into the front pocket of my backpack once I'm done with my breakfast. I bring the straps of my backpack from 5th grade around my shoulders and poke my head into the doorway of my mother's bedroom.

"Bye mom, I'll see you in six hours," I say, waving.

"Bye sweetie! Remember to find your way to the office once you get in! I love you,"

"I will, thanks mom. I love you too,"

I walk through the halls and grab my key off of the table next to the door.

I keep walking down the street until I find a group of people that look like 8th graders. There's a sign with a bus on it above their heads. I guess this is where I'm supposed to go every morning so I can get picked up by the bus.

I stand far away from everybody so I don't cause any attention on me. I stand there for about five minutes until a girl notices me and walks up to me.

"Who do we have here?" She asks.