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Living with the Adams Boys

Teen Fiction

Living with the Adams Boys

94 4 1

by olivia_ovms

by olivia_ovms

C h a p t e r 1

"I'm moving to England."

Those words played over and over again in my head. England? I've never even been out of the state of Michigan. And now I was moving to England.

I was so excited.Â I had absolutely no friends at the place where I lived now. I went to a shitty school and lived in an even shittier neighborhood. My life wasn't all that great. I couldn't wait to get out of the little town where I had lived all of my 15-almost-16 years. So obviously when my mom told me we were moving, I was happy.

"Great! So when do we move?" I asked.

"In two weeks," my mom replied. "But Trisha, you're not coming with me to England. "

"Wait... what? What are you talking about? Where else would I go? I mean, you're all I have." My voice broke at the last part. My dad had died 4 months ago overseas in Afganistan. He was in the army, and he would have gotten back exactly 1 week and 5 days ago if he hadn't gotten blown to bits by a missile. I missed him so much.

"I mean you're not coming to with me. You're going to be living with a friend of mine while I go to England to mourn alone."

I finally got it. She was leaving me alone again. It's not like I wasn't used to it. Since I was nine, I had pretty much been on my own. I wouldn't see her for weeks at a time, and then she would just pop into my life again. I hated her for it.

Is it wrong to despise your own mother?

"So I'm gonna be on my own for, like, how long? Two, three months?" I asked with gritted teeth,Â trying to keep my cool.

My mom sighed. "You're not listening! You are going to be living with a friend of mine while I go to England. You'll be there for two years in the least."

I must have looked ready to kill someone, beacause my mom sighed again.

"Trish, it won't be that bad. You'll go to a regular school and make new friends."

NewÂ friends? I didn't have any old friends. She would know that if she ever paid attention to what was going on in my life.

"And anyway, this will be a better life that the one you already have chosen for yourself," she said obliviously.

That's when I snapped. Just totally, completely lost my head and screamed at her.

"I choseÂ this path for myself? I never had a choice. I always had to live the lifestyle that you were living,Â which sucks by the way, and never make my own choices. You are all I have left in the world. Dad is dead. Valerie is dead. And you act like you don't even----"

"Stop!" my mom shouted at me. "Don't you dare bring your sister into this. She died and theres nothing you can say or do to reverse it."

"Obviously." I growled. "I'm so done here. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack to move to wherever you're sending me because you're too fucking lazy to raise me yourself. "

Before she could say another word, I ran back to my bedroom,Â slammed the door, and cried harder than I have for a long time.

*Two weeks later*

I hopped off the plane onto the tarmac and was promptly smacked in the face by the balmy Florida air. It was so hot here. I wonder if Hell is as hot as this, I mused to myself as I grabbed my multiple bags. I was going to find out someday, according to my mother.

After our argument, there had been hardly any words spoken throughout the two weeks. Then at the airport, we had parted with another agument, this one ending in her telling me to go to hell, and me replying that I would see her there.

See how loving a relationship I have with her?

Not.

I sighed, trying to forget about her. She left me, so why should I care about her?

I don't.

I looked around. I spoke to the woman I was going to be living with on the phone, and she said she would be here. I stood on my tiptoes and looked around. I'm not the tallest person ever, I'm only 5'3", so it's hard to see where I'm going in a crowded place. And I told the lady what I looked like, but my looks are just.... average.

I have dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes, which are pretty much the only thing I like about my appearance.

Do you know how everyone stereotypes blond-haired blue-eyes girls to be pretty? Well, not all of them are, and I'm one of the unlucky ones. I've had people tell me I'm pretty before, but when I look in the mirror, I don't see pretty, I just see average. Too skinny, too short, I just try to blend in.

I looked around again, and this time I saw a petite brown haired woman holding a sign. It said, "Welcome to the Adams family Trisha!" I started to make my way over my to her. She saw me coming, dropped the sign,Â and embraced me. I just kind of stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

She peeled away from me with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, you just look so much like your mom," she said tearfully.

Ugh, don't remind me.

"So, um, where are we headed?" I asked, just wanting to get this show on the road.

She smiled and led me to her car, which happened to be a white, 2013 convertible Camero. Well, I guess my mom wasn't kidding when she said these people had a lot of money. we put my things in the trunk and I got in the passenger side.

"Marco Island, to answer your question. I'm Lucy by the way." she said.

"Cool." I had no clue where Marco Island was.

We drove for a while, finally pulling up in front of a house.

Or maybe I should say palace.

Because this place was on about 5 acres of land, with perfectly manicured lawn and shrubbery.

The house itself was white, with 3 or 4 stories and balconies everywhere. It looked like a dream, to say the very least.

I climbed out of the car and moved around to the back to get my things.

"Oh no dear," Lucy said. "Gerald will get you're things later. Now lets go meet everyone, if everyone is home."

I had two thoughts. The first one was, who is Gerald?

The second one was, how many kids does she have?

I was about to find out.

Ã¢Â—Â‹Ã¢Â—ÂÃ¢Â—Â‹Ã¢Â—ÂÃ¢Â—Â‹Ã¢Â—ÂÃ¢Â—Â‹Ã¢Â—ÂÃ¢Â—Â‹

Well shit. this chapter sucks really bad, but keep reading please.