It All Started with Hello

Chapter One

Is there such thing as a summer vacation hangover? I mean, you're exhausted, have a massive headache (yeah I stayed up late panicking for no good reason, but still), slightly nauseous. For some reason this year the last one is especially true.

I'm normal teenage girl really —minus the gun and knife collection— stressing over homework, constantly snacking, oh and Netflix (lots of it).

So, when my alarm went off at 5:30 on the morning of the first day of junior year of high school, I was absolutely fucking miserable. I hadn't even been up a whole minute and I was already annoyed, it also didn't help the my mom was slamming cabinet doors closed, concocting God knows what for breakfast.

She tries she really does, but she never seems to get it right. Her cooking has to extremes burnt and salty. It either taste like charcoal or like salt water, take a pick.

I eat it though, maybe it's because I want to try to keep our mother/daughter relationship that is rocky at best. It has been since I was fourteen and my parents separated, my mother not wanting me in the life he felt the need to continue. But she never asked me what I wanted. That was the root of all our problems pouring out of us via petty fights.

It was a struggle to get out of bed, bags under my eyes.

"So cute." said only in sarcasm.

I blame him, he really tired me out the whole summer. I mean it's not entirely his fault I was there to and took part, but it's still his fault for being him.

After taking entirely to long to decide what to wear just to end up in a tee and jeans, I made my way towards the kitchen, picking my favorite switch up on the way (a double action OTF with a burgundy handle). It was a gift from my father who had originally gotten it from his brother, may he Rest In Peace. It was the one physical object that screamed Gomez still in my life.

"La vida es para vivir"

The inscription on the blade meant so much to my father, it had been explained to me the day the switchblade was given to me.

"Mi princessa, we lead a dangerous life, but without it we wouldn't be living we would just be breathing. Tío Marco lived by this."

My mother was plating a suspiciously brown fried egg, along with mostly black bacon.

"You have time sit down, relax." my mom stood across the island pointing to the bar stool in front of her.

I sat down on the seat I was directed towards, taking note of her strange behavior.

I bit into a piece of the fried egg and felt salt granulates dissolving in my mouth. This was new: burnt and salty.

"Your father called." I stopped chewing mid way, my eyes must have been the size of planets. Trying to keep my composure I pushed down the food in my mouth.

"Why?" I managed to get out, my mind spinning in circles. He never called. The last time he did it was because he was lying down a hospital bed recovering from surgery needed due to a bullet, he had needed some of his hidden cash to cover the medical fees.

My mom turned toward the cabinet getting a mug and filling it with coffee, setting it in front of me next to vanilla creamer and cinnamon powder, my favorite combination. She was being oddly calm during a conversation about my father, usually we would be fighting by now, me defending my dad, her pointing the finger at him.

"He said he wants to talk to you about some responsibility." my mother facade broke only slightly when she rolled her eyes. "He mentioned it is up to you."

That's why she was being so composed. My mother didn't want this conversation to happen in fear that she'd lose me to my father. Her tactic was to have a calm conversation, where neither of us would blow up so that I could listen to her reason and decide not to communicate with Dad.

"I'll have to think about it." I took a sip of my coffee ending the conversation there. It wasn't a false statement, two years without a single word to me —not even a "Happy Birthday" or "Merry Christmas"— I found myself questioning if it was worth the ultimate pain.

"You have to tell me about your summer. Was he any good?" I rolled my eyes in annoyance at the questions my best friend, Demi, was asking me. My head was now throbbing and my stomach was in knots. I didn't feel like answering question, especially while deciding whether or not to speak to my father.

The first bell of the day hadn't even rung yet and I was already getting interrogated. Why did I ever tell her that him and I had a summer fling?

I ignored her, hoping just to get through the class and then go to the nurse in between periods.

The high pitch shriek if the bell just hammered my head even more. I wasn't usually such a bitch, but I felt thrown off my everything. What reason did my mom have to tell me right before school started?

"Good morning teachers and students! Administration would like to wish everyone a great first day and year." the voice coming from the PA system was shrill and happy. I was tempted to grab my knife from inside my boot and destroy the system. I felt my jaw stiffen and my hands gripped the desk, just so they would have something to do other than grab the blade.

I drowned everything out around me, the day had just started and I was already out of it. The teacher was making an introduction to himself and the class...blah blah blah.

That was until I heard a familiar sound. A sound I had become overly comfortable the first fourteen years of my life and then once again the summer.

The roar of a motorcycle.

AUTHOR'S NOTE
Alright this is where I'm going with editing this story. What is your opinion?
~THISGIRL_READS