Summer Scape

01| Cookies Ahoy.

01| Cookies Ahoy.

I never expected it to be me. I mean, I knew that it would be a going to-be-senior, since the producers always choose someone who's going to help them spice up drama.

It should've been Jenna. She completely fits the whatever Fangirl category came up this year.

Which stereotype would I fill? Jenna said they probably had Loner in mind, but it's not like I live in isolation. I do have one friend.

I was probably The Sarcastic Bitch. Yeah, makes sense. All books have a sarcastic bitch. And an extremely hot guy. Which unfortunately remains absent in my life.

Or I could be The Pessimist. I call it being realistic, they call it negativity.

"Alyssa!" my mom yelled from my room. "Come up here!"

"Coming!" I called back, and got off the couch I had been sprawled on. I ran upstairs to my room to see my mom sitting on the floor with my clothes all around her. My closet door was open and nothing was inside it. She was throwing most of my clothes into a bag labelled Charity.

"Mom. What did you do to my room? When I said that I could live on the couch I didn't actually mean it. You can't throw my clothes away."

"Pshh, child." she said, waving me off. "I'm sorting out your clothes. All your closet consists of is band shirts, full sleeved tops, and baggy jeans. This is Florida, Lyss, not Alaska."

I'd often called my mom a lunatic to her face whenever she got these kind of ideas. She usually laughed in my face.

"You haven't had a problem with these for seventeen years, mom. Why now, mom?" I said dramatically, raising my hands, "Why now?"

"Because you're going into Summer Scape!" she suddenly clapped her hands together, eyes wide. "Oh my goodness! My baby's going into Summer Scape!" She pulled me a hug and started crushing me.

Sometimes I worry for her. It makes me wonder who's the adult in our relationship.

"But what about my clothes?" I managed to choke out of her hug.

"I knew you wouldn't go shopping with me, so I went to the mall myself and got you new clothes."

"You selected the clothes?" I asked, fearing that they were only going to be sparkly skirts and pink tops.

"Don't give me that look young lady. I know that you think I've been up to something crazy again. But I actually got you clothes which you would like, yet wouldn't look as if you just got run over by car."

Thanks Mom.

She rummaged around the mess around her and produced eight bags from so many different stores I didn't even know.

But I guess she was sort of right. The clothes were decent enough. Sure, there was a skirt in there, and a dress too, and also a pink crop top, but they looked slightly respectable.

Everything else comprised shirts and tops and shorts which were all in light pastel colours.

"Thank you mother." I said, relieved that I wouldn't spend the next two months looking like a monkey.

"What, are you back into your 'mother' phase again?" She goes, suddenly alert, "Last time you did that, you tried to speak with a British accent and even had a tea party. And I'm pretty they say 'Mum' over there."

"Hmph. No the sophisticated folk say Mother." I told her in my British accent, which by the way, is a miserable excuse for an accent.

"Sophisticated." She coughed.