Change My Mind (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

(1) Goodbye Massachusetts

Shiloh

If I have to listen to my parents argue one more time, I am going to burst with anger myself. The voices screaming below filters through the air vents and sounds out swirling around me, making my head spin. I roll my eyes and shake my head, continuing to stuff more shit into my suitcase. If anything this entire 'move' is going to do is separate my parents rather than bring them together as they wish. I don't know why I am being dragged across to another continent just to "help". As my mother put it, "You'll get to experience life outside of America. It'll be good for you." Just the thought of being surrounded by people who I have no idea of who they are or what their culture is makes my stomach turn into a never ending black hole.

My mother, Emily, is the most amazing person you could ever meet. She has the biggest heart known to man or woman and she is unbelievably smart. She's a professor at Harvard University with a degree in Psychology. As busy as she is during the school year, she still manages to make time for anything that I might need. She's a very easy person to talk to and she is my best friend. My father, Adam, works for an electric company as an electrician. He graduated high school but he never went to college. I can't say that he's not smart, he's brilliant in his own way, but because of the high status and demand of his company year round, he's barley home.

If someone were to look at my family, they would probably think of us as a joke. My mom, the professor, marrying the smart electrician and a daughter who can barley even get her grades over a C+ in a school that demands excellence and won't take anything less than an A-. My high school is very academically competitive and it is beyond me how I was even accepted. It had to be that it is the same school my mother went to when she was my age and continuously won't stop doing favors for them. So I guess I can say that Cambridge Charter School had to pay her back somehow and letting the daughter of Mrs. Emily Gladwell ruin the overall GPA of the students for just four years seems good enough.

I can't say that I'm ever going to be as smart as my mother or probably even as handy as my father. If someone were to ask me what I was going to do for the rest of my life, I'm would tell them three simple words: I don't know. Those three words, as simple as they are, have such meaning and force behind them that it scares me to death. I don't know what I want to do for the rest of my life. I don't know what my future holds and just like it would anyone else, it scares me. I try my hardest to not let it affect me, and be as it may a lot of people think I'm totally cool with not knowing. But my mother knows, my best friend knows and I'm pretty sure some of my teachers know as stuck up and rude as they can be.

I know I don't fit in where I am. I know I don't belong with these people who don't have a care in the world about what they spend money on, what house party they're going to be at on Friday or even fussing over which Ivy league school they plan to attend next fall. My mother keeps telling me that venturing out in the world will be good for me and that this trip to the United Kingdom will make my world change right before my eyes but the more she talks about it, the less I have faith that it will. And it's not that I started out with a lot of faith in the beginning. I remember the day my father came home, his excitement radiating off him like a kid in a candy shop seeing chocolate for the first time. He told us that his company is giving some gigantic work offer that will place, whomever takes the offer, at a higher standing in the company and maybe even attain a corporate position here in Massachusetts. My mother was ecstatic and of course they both looked at me with such high hopes themselves.

I didn't know how to react then but only with a simple smile and a wave of a finger saying "Woo," Of course they were disappointed in my reaction but what did they expect? At the time he received the offer it was junior year and I had my hands full of study sheets, my tofu noodle soup dinner sitting cold next to me and my nose stuck in SAT and ACT books. If anything I wanted more than to pass junior year, it was to at least get decent scores on the SAT and ACT tests. And of course I achieved nothing but average in both while everyone around me rejoiced and attained the highest level of excellence.