JUSTIN'S POV
"Justin! Are all your boxes in the car?" I hear my mother yell from the other room.
"Yes mom! I'll be out there in a few!" I yell back to her.
I hear the front door shut. I continue what I was doing before my mom interrupted me.
"Yes babe, we'll Skype every other night, text each other all the time, and talk on the phone in our free time." I say, rolling my eyes.
Ashley made me repeat that list of how we're going to keep in touch. I'll be moving 3 hours away from here and she insists on nonstop communication because apparently if we don't then I'll find a 'new girl'. I didn't really mind at first, but now it's getting annoying. It's only 3 hours away, not 20. I don't want to hurt her feelings by telling her that though, since she's so sensitive.
"Okay, do you proooooomise?" She asks, drawing out the word promise.
"I promise." I reassure her.
"Okay well I have to go now. The cheerleading director is starting to get mad at me for taking such a long break. Muaaaahhh!" She ends with a kissy noise.
"Okay, uh, muah?" I say, but it comes out sounding more like a question.
She hangs up, going back to whatever she was doing at cheerleading camp. I slip my phone in my back pocket. I look around my now empty room, sighing while running a hand through my dark brown hair.
I'm glad to finally get out of this city. I've lived here all 17 years of my existence. I need a new change, new friends. No offense to my current friends, it's just they're pretty much shit at being friends.
My mom finally decided it was time for us to move too. I know she always wanted to stay here because this is where she grew up with my dad, the place they started their life together.
But, for some reason, she's finally agreed with me about moving somewhere else.
My dad died when I was 2 years old. I don't remember him though, so it doesn't hurt as much as it should. The only thing that gets me down is how I don't have a father. I don't know what it feels like to have a dad.
My mother says he was an amazing man. She once said his hearty laugh was so contagious, it could make the most sad person in the world join in on the amusement.
I don't know what his laugh sounds like. I don't even remember his voice. Hell, I wouldn't know what he looked like if it wasn't for the few pictures we had of him.
Everybody tells me he was such a good man. I completely believe them, because if he wasn't a good man, he wouldn't have died saving a young girl and her grandma- a very old woman -in a house fire.
I hear a honk outside, snapping me out of my thoughts. I walk out of my room and down the stairs. I exit the house and walk towards my old, red pickup truck. I get in, start the ignition, and wait for my moms car to pull out of the driveway behind me. The moving truck guys already left, driving to our new house.
My mom finally pulls out and starts to drive. Soon enough I'm behind her, leaving our home.
. . .
Danielle's POV
The cries of people mourning over Uncle Pete fill my ears.
I take slow, subtle steps backwards, attempting my escape. Luckily, everybody's practically crying their eyes out. Nobody notices me as I hide behind a big tree, several feet away from the burial. I turn my back to them, leaning against the tree, and take a deep breath. I've been here for almost an hour and a half and honestly, I'm ready to get out of here.
