Trying to live #Wattys2024

Chapter 4 (Edited)

I felt utterly drained as I grabbed my books from my locker and walked to the parking lot. Not only had the drama with Scott sapped my energy, but the thought of staying under the same roof as Henry Avilla was equally exhausting.

I pushed thoughts of my mother's accident out of my mind as I opened the driver's side door of my car. I wasn't a car enthusiast and didn't even know the make of my vehicle, but it had been a gift from my dad. I had asked for a black one, and he had obliged, sending it over for my sixteenth birthday last year. I preferred dark colors—black, white, dark blue, and gray.

I placed my bag on the passenger seat, fastened my seatbelt, and drove off. I had work after school and needed to change out of my uniform. I didn't work every day—just at least six hours on the days I did. If school interfered, I tried to make up the hours. I often worked longer shifts on Saturdays, up to eight hours, to avoid my mom and Scott. Sundays were my off days, which I used to complete assignments or read in my room.

As I rolled down my window and placed my hand on the handprint scanner, I gave a polite nod to Stanley, the guard, who barely acknowledged me. The gates to our mansion opened, and I drove up the long driveway. After parking, I walked to the front door and unlocked it with my keys.

I climbed one side of the bifurcated stairs and then up to the third floor, which was mine and Scott's domain. It housed two master bedrooms, an office, a lounge area where Scott entertained his friends, and a large library designed for me—my sacred place.

Rushing into my room, I shed my uniform and changed into skinny black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and my white Pumas, which I had worn to school. I tossed my uniform into my walk-in closet.

My room was large (it was a master bedroom, after all), with an attached bathroom, walk-in closet, and a living room area. Dad and his friends, like Henry's dad, had torn down a wall to combine the two rooms.

I had kept my room simple and impersonal after returning from camp. It was a mix of white, gray, and gold. My king-size bed had a white duvet cover and a mix of white and gold pillows. The nightstands, makeup table in the walk-in closet, and desk opposite my bed were all white. The desk looked disastrous with books piled all over it.

My favorite spot was the window bench, overlooking the front lawn, adorned with gold pillows, just like my living room. Next to my desk were three small steps leading to the living room. There was no door separating the bedroom and living room, just curtains on either side. The bathroom door was next to my nightstand, and the walk-in closet door was next to the bedroom door.

I grabbed my Louis Vuitton bag and stuffed everything I needed into it, placing my books on my desk.

As I closed my bedroom door, it hit me—I wouldn't be sleeping here tonight. I had to stay at the Avilla mansion across the street until my mom recovered.

Not thinking about her was intentional; it spared my heart from pain. I shook my head and walked to my car. Our mansion had been purchased by my grandfather, who loved it as much as his own home. After Dad graduated high school, he and Uncle Josh lived here together. When Mom and Dad married, they moved in here, as Uncle Josh and his wife moved to New Jersey.

When Mom and Dad divorced, he left the house to her. I was glad because I would never have forgiven him if he lived here with his new family. The oak tree swing on the front lawn, which Dad built for me with great difficulty when I turned twelve, held too many memories.

I loved that old swing for all the memories it held, even if they were bittersweet. From the first time I scraped my knees climbing the tree, to Priya's first swing, to Cam chasing me when I stole his iPod. Scott pushed me when I teased him about being in love, and Henry first asked me to be his girlfriend there. It was where he always gave me my birthday gifts, trying to erase the bad memories from my twelfth birthday, and where we had our last kiss. The swing was both the best and worst birthday gift ever because the day after, Dad left us.

Even now, swinging on it, the overwhelming feeling of those memories and Dad's departure never left. I cried every time I used it. A small smile crept onto my face as I touched the swing, remembering the day Henry asked me to be his girlfriend. I was fifteen in 10th grade—having skipped a grade in elementary school, I would turn seventeen in November and graduate at 17. I said yes, not just because we were best friends, but because I felt something for him. I loved him, but by the time we broke up at the beginning of junior year, those feelings had faded. Maybe because he spent so much time with Juliette while I was away for a month. Those were the worst four weeks of my life. I shook my head slightly.

I wouldn't think about him.

I was glad Mom let me keep the swing and didn't cut down the tree as originally planned. "It's the only thing he left you with, and I'm not the one to take this away from you," her words echoed in my mind. I took a deep breath and drove off.

Navigating through the streets, I reflected on my strained relationship with Mom. We were good until I turned fourteen. I thought her dislike was due to her suffering, but seeing her behavior with Scott made me realize it was personal. She didn't like me, but I still tried to make her proud.

Until I had enough.

Until I decided not to let her control me anymore. I was young but mature enough to make my own decisions. This was the most mature decision I'd made in my life. Well, until last year when I made the best/worst decision ever.

Parking my car was difficult; even with my license, I was still a terrible driver, especially at parking.

I walked into 'Royals,' the coffee shop that stood for the royalty of Lakewood, and was greeted by the sound of a bell signaling a new customer.

Royals exuded luxury. The interior had black marble tiles, black coffee tables, and black chairs with golden, ornamented arms and heads, as if kings or queens sat there. The decorations included plants, expensive paintings, and flower-filled vases.

Even the counter was black marble. The only normal-looking things were the stools at the long tables. My eyes found the stairs leading upstairs. When I wasn't working, I always sat in the 'VIP lounge' upstairs.

I knew for a fact that my former friends, including Scott and my ex, Henry, would be there. Then my gaze landed on a familiar face at the counter, talking to my boss.

My grandma.

 "Shit," I muttered to myself.