Selcouth City

Unexpected Summer

It was a bright, sunny day, and I was going to spend half of it in the air.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Mom says, practically shoving me out of the house with my trunk towards the yellow cab.

"Oh, no, it's cool. I totally didn't want to go to the Fugazi show this week. Thanks, Mom."

"Here," she shoves a hundred into my leather jacket, and kisses me on the cheek. "Maybe you can catch them in Seattle, eh? I'm sorry babe, you have to go. You can't stay here alone while we go to Mexico. A sixteen year old girl can't take care of this house all by herself."

"16 and three quarters!" I correct her.

Mom's thick brown hair was in a bun, but a few stray strands danced in the summer wind. She had been planning this trip since Christmas with Tom, my stepdad --and I completely refused to go, believing to have the whole house to myself this summer. I could do what teenagers did in the summer with Sammy, my bestfriend, but she ended up going to Florida. So, currently I was being shoved into a cab driving to Flint's airport so I could spend my summer with my brother in Seattle. I had no idea what Seattle was like, but I knew it rained a lot there.

"Keep in mind what all happened this school year. Its for the best." She pats my shoulder.

"Sure." I mumble, taking the comment as an insult and her touch on my shoulder a cold one.

Okay, so I guess it was for the best, me going to Seattle for the summer. I had time to recollect, as well as breathe from my horrid junior year experience. Junior year was simply hectic: 1 abusive boyfriend, a huge dramatic friend arrangement as to where I ended up with only one (Sammy), a mental breakdown, and an almost expulsion. Yeah, it doesn't seem as intense in text, but trust me, I still want to disappear.

"I'm sure you'll have a blast! Plus, Eddie's got a -"

"Surprise for me? Yes, Mom. You've told me enough. I believe it, and its probably not even a surprise anymore." I don't know Edward all that well, even if he is my brother. He ended up moving to Seattle with our mom's sister a few years after I was born, because I guess Mom didn't want to deal with two kids at once --stupid, I know; Its the only explanation I have. He and Aunt Rita stopped visiting us after a while, but they would occasionally give me calls. Like on my birthday, or Christmas, stuff like that. Eddie's apparently 20; 4 years older than me. I only know what he looks like around age 13 (a large portrait of un-hit puberty Eddie hung in the hallway leading up to my room) which is permanently branded into my brain until my perception of him is refreshed when I meet him in person. That was the last picture we took of him before they had stopped visiting.

The cab driver honked the horn, and we both glared at the impatient man who had probably never recieved a huge payment in his life (which was from my mother) just to make sure I made it to Flint's Airport safely.

"Make sure you call at seven! I put our hotels' numbers in your trunk for the whole summer so you can call me every day." She says, spinning around in her flow-y floral dress --which practically screamed 'I'm fucking going to Mexico'-- that also complimented her slim size she had accomplished by eating only veggies and juiced drinks practically 24/7.

"I'm sure that wont all be necessary, but I'll call." I sigh, slipping on my round blue tinted side shielded shades.

"Okay," Mom grins at me, her lively brown eyes, even through my shades, showing kid excite. "We've gotta get on the road. Tom says have fun." I see Tom, probably the worst stepfather ever, quickly carrying luggage out of our house into their black Hummer.

"Yeah, fun." I slide into the car and roll down the windows to let in the early summer sun heat. Mom shuts the door and the cab driver takes off instantly before she was even given the chance to wave through the window. I put on my headphones and press play on my CD player. The beginning of Mr. Bungle's self titled album starts to flow through my ears, and I sigh, pulling out the clean hundred dollar bill from my pocket. I press my thumb over Ben Franklin's printed face and frown. I don't think Mom was aware she slipped about five of this guy into my trunk. Who knows how much's on that card she slipped, too. I ball up the crisp dollar and unravel it. I pass it up to the driver, where his attitude gets even more pristine.