"Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world." -Gustav Flaubert
I fumbled with my bracelet that my best friend gave me, as tears filled up my eyes. My mother glanced at me through the rear view mirror as we got on the highway. "I'm sorry honey" she says as her eyes are off the road. I look away from her and keep my eyes fixated on the bracelet. That feels like it's the only thing that won't upset me.
"Honey you know I had to take this job since your fath- "I KNOWW" I snapped as I didn't want her to finish the sentence. I've hear that sentence so many times I'm surprised she didn't make a song out of it. "Honey you know I had to take this job since your father left us". That's what I always hear. I grabbed my iPhone 6 along with my crappy dollar store earbuds and I blasted House of memories by Panic At The Disco. I shut my eyes slowly kicked off my my all black vans and eventually went to sleep.
Hours later which felt like minutes my mom tapped me and told me that we arrived. Ehh North Dakota why of all places did we have to move here? Why not Hawaii or something?
I tried to keep a pouted face but when my mom showed me the house I eventually grinned. It was a grey house with 3 bedrooms 2 bathrooms. I had the biggest room in the house! I grabbed my white and yellow suit case and dragged it upstairs. I unpacked most of my clothes and just decided to take another nap.
For dinner my mom ordered my favorite PIZZA. Throughout the night I felt guilty for snapping at my mom on my way here she really just wants what's best for me and I just need to accept it.
YOU ARE READING
The Pastor's Son
Teen Fiction"How are you this reckless if your father is the pastor of a church" I ask "I just am baby girl, I just am" he says as he smirks at me.
