Basically Together

Chapter 2~ Shock on Instagram

Chapter 2~ Shock on Instagram

Soon enough the day went by, and I was just sitting in my room doing homework for my Spanish class, while litening to Kid Ink's music on Spotify. I. Hate. Fucking. School. But I couldn't concentrate on learning new sentences in Espanol: I just couldn't stop thinking about what Hunter said to me before he walked off just mere hours ago.

"Come when everyone is gone, I don't want to be seen with a nerd like you." I don't want to be seen with a nerd like you. Nerd like you. Nerd, like, YOU.

Just as I was finishing up my thoughts, I was interrupted by the sound of the front door being slammed shut. Great, my mom was finally home.

Let me give you the "low-down" on my bitchy-ass excuse of a mother. She's a 44 year old divorced woman with a glorious-paying job as one of the strictist lawyers in the state. I'm not going to brag, but I am just going to say that we were pretty rich, living in a quite larger sized house than most of the people on my street. Okay, I guess I will brag; my house was pretty much a fucking mansion. But it doesn't mean that just because I live in a rich house with pretty nice things, my life is perfect. It is far from perfect.

"Reese!" my mom yelled up to me from the kitchen, coldy I might add. I could already tell she was in a bad mood. Could be from that case she just recently lost. Or just the fact that she was a complete bipolar psychopath.

I ran down the stairs as fast as I could, being careful not to trip on the steps on the way down. If my mom has to repeat my name twice, that means danger for me. Strict, I know. Right when I entered the kitchen, surely enough, I could see my mom downing yet another bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey, with her platinum blonde hair covering the one side of her face as she chugs down the alcohol straight from the bottle, not even bothering to use a glass.

"Mom, stop drinking. I don't need you drunk when Sissy gets home from school in an hour." I say softly to her. Then, as she looks up from her bottle that is already 3/4 empty, her mouth forms a grim line as she walks straight over to me. Shit.

"Worthless bitch, don't tell me what the fuck to do and not do." Then, as expected she brings her hand up, level with my face, ready to give it a sharp slap, when the doorbell suddenly goes off, loud and clear.

Like the weird psycho my mother is, she puts her best fake smile on as she walks to the door, acting as if nothing was just about to go down in here. As I hear the door open, I hide along the wall to eavesdrop onto whatever conversation my mom was about to have with whoever was at the front door.

"Hi. Can I help you, sir?" My mother asks the now confirmed male, who, from what I can see, is holding some sort of envelope with cursive writing on the front.

"Um, is there a Reese Parker in this home?" the man asks.

As I expected something like this to happen, my mother impatiently grabs the envelope from the poor man and slams the door in his face as she turns around and enters the kitchen again. I skurry into the kitchen and take a seat at the island on a high chair.

As my mom puts the envelope down on the table, I look to see that the writing on the front was indeed my name. But, as I anxiously reach across the island to grab the envelope, my mom suddenly slaps my hand away and gives me one of her wicked glares.

"Just because that doorbell distracted me, doesn't mean you get away that easily." And with that, my mother grabs her Gucci Handbag from the counter opposite of me and saunters up the steps to go to her room, with her Jimmy Choo high heels clacking on the tile upstairs. Stupid rich bitch my mother was.

Soon after, I waltzed lazily up the steps and slammed the door to my bedroom shut and gave the lock a firm twist as I plopped onto my bed and my iPhone 5s and dialed up one my best friends numbers.