The Boy At The Back Of The Class

Try Acting Like An Adult For Once

"D'you need any help there, miss?" The moving truck driver asks as I pull out my last few boxes from the back. He is leaning casually on his truck while I am finishing up my work. He's gotta be at least nineteen. He flicks his dark hair out of his eyes and smirks at me and I feel my face get hotter than usual.

I glance over at him quickly before picking up one (quite heavy) box and settling it in my arms as comfortably as possible. I nod down at the other two and heavily breathe out of my nose. I hear him give a hiccup-y laugh at my struggle to get those damn boxes down on the ground and I roll my eyes just barely so that he won't see my annoyance.

"Could you set those two on top of this one?" I grunt and nod down sharply at the pile of two at my feet. For a few seconds he just stares at me with a small smile on his face while I wait a bit impatiently for him to help me, and then he shakes his head. What was he doing? Why wasn't he helping me?

"Hate to break it to you but," he begins and then picks up the other two boxes effortlessly, "you're not gonna be able to carry all these up those steps." He finishes and nods up to the upstairs window where my mother and I's new apartment was. I narrow my eyes at his assumption that I couldn't carry just three boxes up two flights of steps. I don't think he noticed my childish action, thank goodness.

"Thanks." That's all that I can get out in the end. He smiles kindly and begins walking in front of me, opening up the building door for me, too. Not gonna lie, it would have taken me three hours to get that door open if I had three boxes. But that's just the door. The stairs were no problem. In fact, I actually beat the truck driver to my new front door. I was slightly sweaty and the both of us were panting, but I made it before him.

"Thanks for helping me, dude. How much do you need?" I set down my box and pull out my wallet from my back pocket. He pushes it away and let's his fingers linger on mine for a moment. "The only payment I need is for you to get a coffee with me sometime." He raises a thick eyebrow and smirks down at me. I scoff. Although he was pretty decent looking, there was no way I was going to jump right into dating.

"Uh, yeah. I'll call you." I lie and plaster on the fakest smile I have ever achieved. He breathes out slowly and hands me a slip of paper from his back pocket. "Don't forget to call!" He reminds me after two seconds. He turns away and begins to make his way back downstairs to his truck. You can probably guess that I was pretty thankful for him leaving. I sigh and quickly open the already cracked door.  Mom is unpacking some of her stuff in the kitchen, pots and pans strewn across the counters and tiled floor.

"Need help?" I ask her and move aside my three boxes. Mom looks up and waves me away. "No, honey. I'm fine. Why don't you go unpack your room?" she says, a tiny bit breathless. I shrug and begin sliding the biggest box to my room with my foot.

My room was just down the hall and around a very tight corner near one of our few windows. The door was old, white, and still painted with lead paint. I was honestly surprised that the last owners didn't renovate this place. Its sort of a dump. Anyway, back to the room itself.

Behind the door was actually kind of pitiful. It consisted of faded pink walls with little yellow daisies painted in some of the corners and it was kinda headache-y to look at for awhile. Mom had told me that that a younger girl had this room previously and her parents never repainted it.

That wasn't a lie.

As soon as I stepped into that room, I instantly felt homesick. But this was my home now. This "flat" was my home. No more bright lights of Chicago.  How was I going to make this work? I could already see myself crying myself to keep that night. Sure, call me childish. I was acting like a baby. I know.

I groan quietly and stand in the middle of the room. The floors were hardwood like my room in Chicago, which was a bit comforting. I would get used to it. It might take a little while, but I would.

After bringing back the other two boxes I  actually began to unpack, starting with my bed. The frame and mattress were already set up, I just needed to put on the sheets and whatnot. I push through what seemed like endless boxes until I found the one that read bedding and then rip it open, dumping the contents on the floor. Inside was a packet of brand new white sheets that I bought just before we left our old house officially, my dark blue comforter, and some pillowcases. I quickly make my bed, struggling with the corners of the tighter sheet that fits around the mattress itself. When I'm finally done, I prop up my pillows and smooth out my comforter.

"Dang it." I mumble and pick up the frame, careful not to spill any glass anywhere on the mattress or floor. I go into the bathroom next to my room to see if mom had set it up yet. Fortunately, she had set up the trashcan and the regular stuff like the shower curtain and soap holders. I dump the shards of glass and the frame into the trashcan and brush off the photo. Later on I'd go to one of the small shops down the street and get a new frame.

After sorting out my clothes into piles of pants, shirts, dresses and skirts I began to hang them up in my closet. To be completely honest, the closet was the best thing about the room. It had two built in mirrors on the outside and the doors slid open to where you could walk inside of it. My old closet just opened and closed, nothing too cool like this one.

I hung up shirt after shirt, and then pants, then skirts, and then dresses. I then lined up my shoes underneath the hangers and put some winter blankets on the built in shelves up top. It actually looked pretty cool when you stood back and took a look at it.

"Hey mom? Could you come here for a second?" I call to my mom, still looking at the closet. I hear footsteps coming closer to the door and mom talks in. She looks at my work and smiles.

"See, it won't be too bad here! Once you get sorted in and comfortable it'll feel like home." She sighs and wraps an arm around my shoulders. That's when I frown and shy away from her. "This will never be home." I reply quietly and close the closet doors. Mom looks down at her feet. "Addison, don't make this so hard." she tells me sternly. I roll my eyes and cross my arms. "It's Addy, and I'm not making this hard. I'm trying to tell you that I hate this place with a burning passion and I want to go back to Chicago." I say just a sternly. Mom purses her lips and throws her hands up in the air. "I give up, Addy. I've tried so hard to make you feel okay about this and all you've done is make it hell. Talk to me when you're ready to act like an adult." She turns around and walks out of the stupid room I was forced to call mine. I would act like an adult when I was an adult, and when I reached adulthood I would be out of there quicker than lightening.