Completed✔️
Disclaimer: I wrote this when I was 15 so it is a bit cliché, and many mistakes in the story:)
All Brooklyn's life, she's been more of a boy than a girl. She's only ever lived with her single dad and her three older brothers, which means...
"Brooklyn Alexandria Harvey! Get your lazy butt over here and help us out!" Colin, my oldest brother, shouted. I groaned, sat up, shut off my phone and shoved it into my back pocket, and dragged my feet towards the moving truck that was stuffed with boxes and furniture.
The house that we moved into was a simple one story with three bedrooms and two baths, a small fenced backyard, and plenty of matching houses surrounding us. I hated it. Okay, maybe 'hate' is a strong word. I disliked it because we had to move away from my childhood house, school and friends.
The ride was terrible as well. Mainly for the fact that I had to move 900 something miles across the country, stuck in a car with three talkative stinky boys and a dad's 80's playlist. For 14 1/2 hours. Talk about ear rape.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I replied with a snappy tone. My legs feel like jelly from being stuck in that car, and I just really want to lie down and take a nap. I quickly touched my toes five times to help, then jogged over to the moving truck. Aiden, my youngest brother (he's still older than me by 1 year), shoved a wagon full of boxes towards me. I took it's handle and dragged it up to the house without a complaint.
I pulled the heavy cart through the open front door and started stacking the boxes against the blank living room wall. Once my cart was empty, I went back outside for another trip. This went on for about five more trips before we had finally unpacked the truck. Now we'd have to unpack the boxes themselves. Yippee.
"Brook? Here's all your boxes. You and Aiden needs to figure out a room arrangement, okay?" My dad asked, pulling the wagon with four boxes that had my name written on them into the room. I got up, off the carpeted floor and took the boxes out of the wagon, allowing him to pull the wagon back out of the room.
I huffed as I opened up each box, looking for my bedding. The only reason why we moved was because of dad's work. Apparently, this is a one time thing, we won't be moving again, so I'll have to get used to sharing a room with Aiden. I pulled out my purple, twin-sized comforter and two pillows, then continued to place my two fluffy blanket on top of my comforter .
Aiden barged in, stood in the middle of the room, and, shouting at the top of his lungs, announced, "I called the closet!" I rolled my eyes. If he wanted to sleep in a closet, he can sleep in a closet. I can't bother to hang up my clothes, anyways.
"Alright, grab your stuff and get it in the closet. I'm not stopping you" I said with a flat voice. The October sun was setting, turning the sky into a beautiful fade of colours. I yawned and plopped down my sad excuse for a homemade bed, pulling out my phone to browse the internet for a while. I paused for a moment to take a picture and post it on instagram. Might as well keep my friends updated on how I'm doing in this state full of what I assume to be a cowboys and banjos. I examined my picture carefully before posting it. My long, honey brown hair glimmered in the decreasing sunlight, my oddly hazel coloured eyes deeply contrasting my natural pale skin. I shrugged and posted the picture.
After posting the picture, I close my eyes and sigh. Apparently I look more like my mother than my father. I wish I could remember her, she sounded beautiful, the way dad described her. But, she did die in a car crash before I got the chance to be old enough to remember her, I was only one and a half at that time. Just starting a to walk and talk. How ironic that my first word was "mama", even though I never knew her. It's a painful irony, really.
"Wake up, Brook" Aiden said, shaking my shoulders. I frowned and opened my eyes, glaring at him.
I wasn't asleep, you moron! Now what do you want?" I said grouchily. I wish I was asleep, but I guess that's not happening.
"Dad's ordering pizza." I jumped to my feet and raced out of the room, down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen, where dad was standing,
"Hi, can I get a large with extra cheese, no other toppings, please."Dad asked to the person on the phone. Yes! He knew I hated toppings on my pizza. Dad hung up the phone and looked at my excited face, rolling his eyes dramatically. Maybe I was wrong about moving, maybe I'll be able to live without the snowy winters in New York.
Maybe Tennessee won't be that bad.
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