Max and I

Chapter Fourteen

After Beca's flight to Nevada, everything was regular, nothing exciting, with no surprises. Wayne got sick and had to lie in bed. Elli was busy all day, so I had no one to talk to at all.

Mom suggested I draw a picture.

"No thanks," I said. I didn't feel like doing anything. In fact, I was sad for some strange reason.

I went down to my room and got out a piece of paper. I felt like doing nothing.

Dad was doing some work in the backyard. I came out the door and watched him. He was digging up roots and weeds. I knew why. Winter was coming closer, and it would get cold. Then my birthday would come in November and I'd be thirteen. Wow. I suddenly remembered myself as a chubby little four-year-old, playing in the sand, throwing water into Mom's face. Child years went by just too fast.

I remembered about Beca. She wasn't at home anymore, forever. I might as well just go over to Max's place and have a nice time talking. But I had more important things to do. Besides, seeing Max all the time was pretty annoying to him probably.

Instead, I thought about Sophia for a second. She was acting to me as if we were in a love-hate relationship, and I didn't understand her ways. What was up with the nod the other day? And Timmy telling me something nice? It was weird. I didn't like girls who acted mean but the nice again.

I wished I could just lead a normal life again, with Sophia, play-dates, no moving, and many friends, like Sonya.

But I couldn't get all of that at once.

The next day Wayne had a fever, like yesterday. It wasn't better.

. Mom was getting worried and wondering if she should take her to a doctor. When Mom wasn't busy, I asked her a question about moving.

"Is this the last place we'll ever to? At least in the next ten years?" I asked.

"Meg," Mom said folding some clothes. "How many times did we discuss this topic already? One hundred?"

"I don't know. I lot."

"Yeah and..."

"I know, we will move like next month, except you don't want to tell me, right?"

"No, Meg. We can't tell the future. See, if Dad or I lose a job, we have to move for sure."

"I know those things," I said, "but can you at least try to not move when it's unnecessary?"

"Meg, let's talk about this later. OK? When Wayne feels better, maybe?"

In reality, I knew there was no "later." Mom didn't like talking about moving.

I wasted time that weekend. I drew a lot of stuff and made a lot of junky drawings. I couldn't do better. There was only that to do, since talking about my major problems to Mom was useless.

Finally, I decided to ask someone completely different about all of my messes with friendships and other problems. I decided to send an email to Sonya. I still had it in my contacts. I wouldn't see her again, but maybe she could write me an answer.

After a lot of correcting for about an hour, this was what my letter looked like:

Dear Sonya,

I haven't seen you in so long! Can you send me a picture of yourself? Do you remember when we met so long ago? I was only seven. Time flies by quickly☹.

I wish I could see you again, but I don't know. I wish I didn't have to move again. Oh, and speaking of that, I have many major worries right now: My future? Friends, No moving, play dates, I feel that I'm growing up too quickly.