“Dammit!” I yelled. I was so close. I almost made it out.
“Allie, get the door!” yelled my mom from wherever she was.
“Okay” I mumbled as I walked to the front door.
The doorbell rang again. “Coming” I said cheerfully as I could. I bitterly opened the door and I forced a smile onto my face.
“Oh Allie, dear I’m so sorry!” said the overdramatic red-head as she flung herself onto me. She hugged me too hard for too long.
“I’m doing ok,” I said, trying to peel her off of me, “Why don’t you let go of me?”
After another couple minutes of insufferable hugging and sympathy looks we got started. I ran up to my room and stalled in grabbing my folder full of homework. I slowly walked down the stairs into the kitchen wear the short, boney women sat. I gave her the folder and attempted not to grimace as I breathed in her overly applied chemically perfume.
She went through my assignments painfully slowly. She read through each one slowly. Occasionally she would make a muffled comment or nod. Soon she came to the end of my final packet. In all fairness I had bull shitted that whole packet as I hated the history of pre-revolution America.
When she finally finished she tried to make small talk. Finally she brought up Austin. I made up some sob story that brought a few tears. And also a lessening of the homework I would be working on this week. I thanked her and happily pushed her out the door.
YOU ARE READING
The Final Call
RomanceWARNING! This story could trigger some readers! Please use caution! Ally had never lived an ordinary life. She was a successful, published author before high school. She'd always had her troubles, but nothing like this. When her boyfriend tries to...
