taking chances [abandoned]

[ two ] - prelude

My mother barges into my room at about eight o'clock in the morning on the first of August.

Now, this might not be uncommon for some people, but I am the only one in this house with my own room. It's barely enough to stick a bed and a shelf in, but it is my room nonetheless, and no one is allowed to come in without explicit permission.

So when I wake up to see my mother standing over me, this is what comes out of my mouth: "Mom Mom no get out of my room please get out of my goddamn room I don't need you in here--"

"Sorry, honey," she says (still not budging), "but the mail just came."

She hands me a letter. It's thick. It's adressed from World Academy. I take it, and I don't realize my hands are shaking until I see the tremor of the paper. "Seriously?" I say, looking at it from all angles.

"Open it."

Mom's excited. She's even more excited than I am; I just want to sleep. But hey. I tear open the letter and pull a folded piece of paper out:

"Dear Miss Elle Andrews," I read. "We are happy to inform you that you have been accepted into World Academy's year-round travelling program."

My mom lets out a loud squeal, which I find incredibly embarassing. I lapse into silence as my eyes skim the rest of the letter; it's basically a lot of stuff about the world is our classroom and packing list and online information. I pull out the intinerary. It'd been avaliable on the website from when I first wrote the application, but I hadn't bothered to look at it. I didn't think I'd get in. But I read, and it says that first we fly to New York City, and then London, and Paris, and, "Holy shit," I say. I look up at her. "Mom, holy shit."

Usually my mom doesn't like it when I curse in front of her but today, Mom doesn't seem to mind. She grins at me. "My baby's going to have the time of her life," she says. "Oh, Elle... you're going to have so much fun."

"Yeah," I say. "In Europe and Asia? I'm going to have a lot of fun." I try to sound enthusiastic, I really do, but I haven't had my meds for two days and also I'm kind of in shock, which makes me feel numb. I trace the letter with my finger, like I'm hoping that the realization of what I've fallen into will hit me in the face. (It doesn't.)

Mom actually sits down on my bed, which I don't think she's done since I was a child. What with five siblings to take care of and her being more or less a single mother, she doesn't have much time for me. "Honey," she says, her face a cardboard mask of seriousness, "you do realize that this will involve a lot of responsibility, work, and independence on your part. It won't be all fun and games. I want you to get better, Elle, and I want you to make this experience a good one."

I smile. It's forced, and the corners of my mouth drag. "I know, Mom. But maybe this will help me." If this doesn't help me, nothing can. 

///

The next month is packed with prepration and I have to retrain myself to get up earlier. The insomnia stays, and I am prescribed sleeping pills. They sit on my bedside table next to the Prozac and the Xanax--enough to last for the full three months I'll be travelling. The other medications I'm bringing: Advil, Peptol-Bismol, Clearasil, and multivitamins, all packed up in a little clear bag ready to take to the airport. 

"I'm practically a pharmacy," I tell Marilyn, who's in my room helping me pack.

"Well, you're not taking Mom's heart medications, so that's one thing you don't deal," Marilyn points out, grinning at me. I smile back. I'm usually so distant from my siblings and I've realized I don't really know them, even though I live in the same house as them. Things you realize before you leave home for three months.