If there was a contest for the unluckiest girl in the world, I'd be in first place. I was Meg Lorie, a twelve-year-old girl that had no friends, no fun, and no life. Nothing at all. Just moving. Of course moving constantly with a mother like mine was torture. I always said to Mom what an unlucky girl I was.
And what did Mom reply?
She would say, "Honey, you are a wonderful girl. Look at all of your hobbies, the things you like; you're perfectly normal and so special..." and well, you get it pretty much.
A little more about the moving business.
I moved all the time. It was so annoying. Every few years, I was settled in with the new school and everything. Marilyn Swanson was my only best friend in years and when I moved, I knew I had left her for good. Nothing helped. Even hugging a gazillion times.
I was born somewhere in a small island in the Atlantic Ocean, near Mexico but I didn't remember anything about that place.
Well, maybe I should have talked a little about my new home. It was a tiny house in a normal town. I lived on a road with not that many kids, except this guy named Max and his pretty sister Rebeca who was 18.
But he was fourteen and I only saw him once. He was nice, but he didn't interest me.
The moving thing interested me. Like, when this would stop.
I had to put up with it, though.
I called Marilyn once I had settled in with the new house and school.
"I can't let my mom always move whenever I form a friendship," I said to her one such day.
"Well, I know your mother. She wants the best, Meg. Believe me. She wants you to go to a better school and everything."
"No. You don't know her personality."
'You're pointless to explain to. Sorry Mary," I said to her.
I sunk back in my bed and onto my green comforter. I spread my feet onto it. Life was difficult. Especially with a mother like mine. My brother Elli thought so too.
I looked out my window. Dad was getting in the car. He was going over to a friend. Lucky person, I thought. He has friends, and I deserve to have some too.
I couldn't say my mother was mean or anything like that. Just the moving business upset me.
My phone was on my dresser. I texted my older cousin Samantha.
I just cannot believe what my mom has done to me, dear Sammy. She totally does not worry about my friends, or where I want to live. Last time our house was OK. Now it's small and uncozy. Can you help me, Sammy? I'd be happy if you would . As always, love Margaret.
I thought a little.
P.S. Tell my mother I still love her. I do. It's just a small thing that bothers me.
I sent the message, hoping Samantha would reply. She didn't. It was OK. She was in high school anyway.
"Meg!" My mother called from the kitchen.
I came down the small dark hall and into the large kitchen.
"Meg, Dad's friend Anne is coming over for lunch this afternoon at one o'clock," she said. "Dress in a pretty gown, perhaps."
I knew Annemarie. She worked at an orphanage for kids.
Anne came late. Elli greeted her with some flowers.
YOU ARE READING
Max and I
Teen FictionOne young girl's journey into discovering herself and strengthening the relationships of the people around her.