"THE STORY CONTINUES..."
• • •
"Campbell West, I am happy to announce the you are now Campbell West Cade," the judge said with a smile.
"Thank you," I replied before hugging my brothers.
I was so happy. I'...
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IT'S FINALLY FRIDAY.
*cue it's Friday by Rebecca Black*
It has been a terrible week, and I just want the weekend to hurry up. I was at the house, getting ready for the football game.
The boys were at practice so the house wasn't so loud. I had Brent's light blue and silver, short sleeve jersey on. It had the school's logo in the corner on the front, and on the back, was Brent's number and his last name.
Since it was a tad big on me, I tied the end of it. I paired it with a pair of dark blue jeans and white sandals.
I pulled my hair into a high ponytail with a light blue scrunchie. Then I started on my makeup which was a natural look with light brown eyeshadow, mascara, foundation, concealer, and pink lip gloss.
I would do blue and white eyeshadow, but every time I try to do a colorful eye shadow it turns out awful.
I sprayed on some perfume, and I made sure I had my phone and my wallet. Then I walked downstairs, almost crashing into Maya.
"Watch where you're going," Maya said with an eye roll.
"Will it kill you to be nice to me?" I asked her, making her nod, vigorously.
"Yep," she said, popping the 'p.' "Now excuse me, I have to go grab my cheer bag."
She walked away, and I shook my head. I walked into the living room to see Mom and Dad talking in hushed voices. It looked serious so I quietly walked passed them.
"Campbell, can you come here for a moment?" Dad asked, making me stop walking.
I turned around and said,"Sure. What's wrong?" I sat down in the chair beside the couch.
"We don't want to pressure you or anything, but with your mother in town with your sister and us having another baby. Then there is Maya-..." Mom trailed off topic.
"What's exactly going on here?" I asked them, confused.
Dad sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, we wanted to know if you would want to go to therapy. We see that you have a lot of stress on you, and we want to help you."
I sat there, stun. We had disagreements about the therapy topic. They wanted me to go after the attack, but I would not go.
"Guys, I'm fine. There is no need for therapy." I was uneasy when I said the word; therapy.
"Campbell, we're not trying to pry, but we think it would be best for you. You have been so shut off lately," Mom said, placing a hand on my leg.
"Guys, I'm a teenager. Of course I have a lot on my plate. College is right around the corner. If an eighteen year old wasn't stressed out, it would be phenomenal. I'm perfectly fine," I convinced them.
