Dylan

New Kid

A week later, I hear my mom call me up for school for the first time ever. In an excited rush, I get ready and pick up Flit on the way down to breakfast. Flit doesn't like staying in her room too long and tends to fly and perch just about anywhere in the house. It is a big house to clean, and I think my mom was secretly relieved when my dad hired a maid-mainly because Flit likes to poop everywhere, and my dad's precious papers were no exception.

"Oh, gosh, I'm so excited!" I nearly squeal as I attempt to eat and talk simultaneously. "I'm really very excited, I have never been to school before, you know?" I realize how that must sound, seeing as it is my parents I'm speaking to, and I backtrack quickly. 

"I'm so excited!" I reset back in time. "Dylan says he will pick me up--he has his driver's license, but I already told you that yesterday, so--"

"Either eat, or talk, Merissa," my mom finally sighs loudly. "You will choke."

"Don't curse me!" I fan her comment away.

My mom looks to my dad for help but he doesn't see the look because his eyes are only for the morning paper. She rolls her eyes at him and frowns at me. "Will you be wearing that for your first day?"

I look down at myself. I wear a baggy light grey sweater that comes down to my knees and a pair of dark brown leggings. I frown at my yellow socks and wonder if she was talking about them. Seeing nothing wrong with my outfit, I look up at her blankly. "Yes?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Then?"

She rolls her eyes again. I think I get that habit from her. "Finish your breakfast and come with me," she grumbles.

I shove eight strips of bacon, a cheese omelet and buttered toast down my throat and finish it with a glass of full cream milk. I jump from the chair, feeling refreshed. "Let's go!"

My mom nods and gets up, ignoring the fact that by helping dress up, her breakfast will get cold. I hide my smile behind my hand. I do so love my mother. I look down the stairs to see her climb up behind me, and beyond her to see Flit eat up the remainder of my mom's breakfast. Chagrined, I whip back around to pretend I have seen nothing.

Jolian is my mom's name, but it is so weird that she makes everyone call her Joan. She takes me back to my room and into my walk in closet to dig up a treasure trove of pretty clothes I never knew existed in there. She chooses an elbow-length sleeve baby blue dress that stops just at my knees, and pulls out stockings from somewhere. Then she chooses a somewhat normal looking necklace from my collection of gothic skulls, bones and spikes. How she finds these things, I will never know. Maybe because she planted them there in the first place?

Then she looks at the clothes and at me pointedly before walking out. "Five minutes, and Dylan's leaving!"

I nonchalantly ignore the stockings, exchanging my sweater for the dress. It is small because I am small. I get it from my mom who is very small boned, and fats seem to burn off of us before they get the chance to cling on. The waistline clings softly to my body and I decide that it is not awful. I put on the necklace, take it off, and choose a choker armed with tiny blunt spikes. Yes, this is better. I frown at my yellow socks. They are going to be hidden in my ankle high shoes, so it shouldn't matter.

A loud honk sounds from the driveway as I am reminded of the five minute time frame. Grabbing up my nearly empty bag--I only put my pencil case and a new notebook in there, since I had no idea what I should bring. I race out of my room and into the car. Dylan takes one look at my clothes, fail to stifle a laugh and hits the gas. Joan's eyes bores holes through Dylan's car, trying to burn off my leggings and choker.