A World of Colors

Chapter 2

Mom and I enter a yelling fit during dinner. My face is so hot. I want to break something. Anything.

I run through the halls. I need to escape from her unleashed, idiotic wrath.

My mind jumps to the heart of the issue.

There was a small artist workshop that had just gone on sale, and Dad couldn't have been happier about his brand new purchase. Even though he was thousands of miles from home. And I was alone.

My parents couldn't be more different from each other. Mom decorates with dark, brooding, bland colors and trinkets while dad fills his life with color and personality. To be frank, I don't know how they are still together. Dad's stretched trip was a pretty good example of their real but strained relationship. He just needed space every once and awhile. And once and a while means leaving me alone with mom on the east coast for a month. I don't know how I am going to deal with mom on my own for that long.

We moved into our new house on the coast a few days ago. I have officially spent the majority preparing myself to go to a private school in the middle of nowhere- thanks to the courtesy of my mom's outrageously expensive appetite.

We had been struggling in the money department for the past couple of years. My dad was a painter when we lived back on the other coast. He likes to joke that he loves art almost as much as he loves me. He would work through the night on his creations and mom would spend all of the hard earned money the next day. We were pennies from going broke. It's not every day that somebody wins the mega-millions lottery.

But we did. My mom almost had a heart attack when she looked at the television screen and her scratch-off number, 2834375669122, was displayed for the world to see. I don't want to have to listen to her go on and on about how lucky we were and everything that we are grateful for and what she plans to spend the money on. Not better colleges or future savings or charity.

Mom had spent hundreds of dollars on tickets for the last couple of years, using all of Dad's hard earned money on luck. We were going broke. And then we won. Ten million dollars.

I'll deal with her later. I don't even want to think of how to fix this right now. Had it not been for the lottery, none of this would have ever happened.

She constantly goes on and on about the new house she just purchased, with the designer kitchen and antique bedrooms meant for royalty. Or her new party dresses for all of the galas she would be hosting in the gigantic entry hall. And the art, architecture, and technology she had put into the home to make it the classiest around.

I stomp up the stairs.

Step One.

Mom, you need to get a grip on yourself.

Two.

Please let us move back! I want my

Three.

Friends and my

Four

Family and the

Five.

Public school with my special

Six.

Music programs and the nicest

Seven.

Teachers and my-

I stop and count to ten to get myself up the remaining marble stairs without crying. My eyes sting as I think about my old life. The security of my room, my classmates, my average school, and my best friend. I have been forced out of my perfect life and into someone else's.

The eyes of one thousand black, white, and grey hurricanes stare at me out of the painting marking the top of the stairs. I force myself to focus on the Marble stairs squeak under my feet to keep from letting all of my emotions loose at once. I trip at the top of the stairs and hear a snicker below me. Mom, again.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Just get to the room.

The cell door of my prison shuts behind me, and I collapse on my king size bed. It feels empty. No matter how many paintings my mother surrounds me with, the colorlessness of the canvas won't draw me in. I won't let it.

I miss the days when my life was simplistic and real.