my personal devil in prada // lydia martin

Dream of Californication.

The air was heavy; static with unresolved tension. But, I suppose that's what you get when you cram a teen, packed with a fuck-ton unresolved family issues, and a forty-something sheriff into a car for far too long after what might be perhaps the biggest argument of said teen girl's life.

And because of this heavy, unresolved tension, the air was cloying with a silence that I certainly did not want to break, so where did that leave me? Staring out of a questionably-stained-with-half-washed-away-monster-guts window at the blase scenery. And after hours on end, it was enough to make anybody want to shoot themselves. Or, in the very least, I wanted to shoot myself.

I'm not sure if it's because of the awkward silence, or the mind-numbing boredom, or maybe even the fact that I'm being kicked out, and forcibly re-homed in the always-hot, always-makes-you-want-to-die California. Fun.

I spared a glance over at Jody, staring forward with a look that mirrored my boredom exactly. Understandably too -- she was the one who had always been kinder to me than I ever deserved, and slowly evolved into the sort-of mother I never had; which was more than anybody ever asked her to do in the first place. Now, she has to pick up the slack for my brothers, driving me to Cali and helping me get situated. That's right. Jody has been the one to help me, not Sam and Dean 'Family don't end in blood' Winchester. Though, I guess blood doesn't extend to your half-sister, the product of a drunken fling. Especially when your dead mother is brought back by God's sister to find a surprise half-kid. Then, it's time to get rid of her for her 'safety' (though we all know it's just a bullshit excuse, why leave the safest place on Earth for a sleep Californian town?).

And a part of me does want to understand why they did what they did, I really do. I'd be elated if I ever got the chance to meet my mom, I'd do almost anything. But the one thing I wouldn't do, is abandon someone I've known for 16 years for a practical stranger. No, I wouldn't do that. To give them credit, they had set up some fraudulent money system to get monthly cheques into my account so I could actually survive.

"You can turn it on you know," Jody broke the silence, and nodded toward the radio, "instead of indecisively reaching for it every 30 seconds. God knows we need to break this awkward silence." I chuckled, one thing about Jody -- you could always count on her to be truthful, even if it's a bit blunt.

After flicking the worn dial on, the sound system crackled to life,

Dream of Californication... the chorus blasted out. Ironic.

"I'm sorry... for you know..." I bobbed my head. I was never any good at apologies.

"Making this car journey incredibly awkward? Don't worry about it. You have every right." She smiled.

"To be an asshole?"

"Yeah. You're not exactly in the best position, I get that. And besides, being this angsty is the first normal teenager thing I think I've ever seen you do." True, she's never seen me do any normal teen things, like sneaking out to Lizzie's party, and -- possibly -- making out with her.

"So, what exactly is this place, again?" The conversation was rolling now, and I didn't want it to stop, because if we're left in that god-awful excruciating silence again, I will legitimately shoot myself in the face. Because, fuck me that would be awful.

"Beacon Hills. It's got a good school, and a good lacrosse team."

"And that's relevant to me how?" Because my senses are picking up another Jody scheme.

"Well, you know, maybe you want to actually get out there, rather than being a little Hermit recluse." I rolled my eyes at that part.

"Also, I know that you're emancipated now, but I've met the town sheriff-"