Oblivious

7. mistaken

Chapter 7

A/N: Right now it is a Wednesday. The story started on a Monday, and she went to a party on a Tuesday night (rebel). Just to clarify things up :)

Emma’s POV

                I blacked out for the rest of our conversation, until someone spoke up and made the whole conversation even worse.

                “We’re moving on Saturday, so let’s start packing. We’re leaving in 3 days!”

                Before anyone could leave the room, I interrupted their movements. “Wait, why so soon? How am I supposed to transfer schools in that small amount of time?”

                “Emma, please remember that I am one of the top surgeons in the world. I could transfer you into a university with such a short notice. Don’t worry darling, we got it all covered. We already called the school you’ll be attending and we will verify everything before we move.” When he stopped talking, he noticed my distressed state. “Come here, darling,” he said as he engulfed me into a big hug.

                He motioned my mother to join our hug and soon, all of us were together in one group hug, finally acting as a family.

                Once we move, I know that everything would be back to the way it was before.

Dad will be gone and I would not see him for days, weeks even. Mom and I would only say a simple “hello” before we’re off to wherever we need to go, or offer a “goodnight before we head to bed.

                We all pulled out of the hug and started packing for the move. It was coming quicker than we had expected.

~

For the rest of the day, we packed most of our things. Our house was now full of boxes. I packed up most of my things in my room and just left out the necessities I would need until the move came.

After packing for hours, mom decided to cook dinner. We actually sat down together, as a family. We chatted about random things, until I finished my plate of spaghetti, and wished my parents a goodnight.

I entered my room and before I take a shower, I write in my journal.

Some would call it a diary, but in a diary people write about their daily lives, gossip, and it sounds so girly and childish.

In my journal I draw, I write about what happens in my life in just plain words, a song, or maybe even a poem. I write about the daily lives of other people, I write what I observe, not just things about myself.

That is why I don’t consider my journal a diary, but just memories. It holds pictures of the good times and words for the bad.

It holds my guidelines on what to do, and what not to do in life. I could look back in it and give myself some advice, not write about how my crush is dating some bimbo, even though I do not have a special interest.

My head snapped up, away from my journal, when I heard a swishing sound of snow, as if someone was walking near my window.

I disregarded it as wind and slipped out of my clothes, getting ready for my warm shower.

~

                The next day I woke up with a text from Jenna. She offered to give me a ride to school, which I quickly replied yes to.

I wanted to tell her about the move, only her. I didn’t want to tell her in an environment, like our school, so I asked her to come a bit earlier than usual.