Not Quite Enough

5.April

Land of Confusion // Genesis

"Hey, April, can you grab some fresh towels and start a new load?"

My mom doesn't wait thirty seconds after I walk into the salon to request something from me. I don't think she noticed the fact that I was stomping my feet from the back door to the break room to drop off my bag. To be fair, I'm usually stomping my feet so I guess she wouldn't notice the difference today.

Because today I'm not stomping my feet in anger at the a holes of the world who blindly believe every rumor told by the people with the power. Today I'm stomping them because I'm mad at myself.

"Sure thing. Give me a second."

The words I use are fine but I admit, my voice holds all of the frustration in my body and aims it at my unsuspecting mom. I would feel guilty but after all, she's the one who orchestrated this whole move from one hellhole to the other and agreed to the shop class fiasco.

"By the way, April, I got an email from the exchange student who will be staying with us. She'll be here next Friday!"

Ah crap. I forgot about that part of the deal. Instead of moaning my disapproval, I wisely keep my mouth shut. I'm sure that anymore attitude from me will be met with consequences. I really don't need any more consequences in my life. Sometimes even when you've done the right thing, the consequences aren't worth it. I'm already living that dream. Nightmare. Whatever. Doing what I knew was right is what started the rumors that have torn me down.

I go about starting up the load of dirty towels and fold the clean ones before taking a few to my mom's station. She's on her feet all day cutting hair, something she said she always wanted to do growing up. I'm not sure Mom thinks she's living the dream but one thing she can say about her life is she did what she'd always wanted to do.

"Here you go," I say as I add the towels to a shelf next to her station in the salon. I force myself to use a neutral tone because although I'm not angry with her right now, I have been. Although I am angry at myself right now for getting sucked in by that line spewing grease monkey, part of me is mad because I wouldn't even be in the position I am if my mom hadn't pulled strings to get the district to move me.

I'm so irritated that Nico looked proud of how I stood up to the douchy guy who keeps telling me to park in the back lot. I'm more irritated that I liked that look of pride on his face. It's been a long time since anyone was proud of me other than my mom. But pride in how I've handled straight up bullying for the last few months is not exactly on my wish list. It's a problem to solve, something to survive, not celebrate. While her pride in my character is appreciated, I'd kind of rather have normal situations to stew over and be a brat about, instead of this insurmountable shit storm of hormonal revenge.

Thanks a lot, high-school-crush-turned-bully, Craig. He's the one I should be hunting down and screaming at. But he's not around and I don't want to be the stereotypical teenager who bitches at her single mom for all of her problems. Today. So I suck it up and smile instead.

"Thanks, honey. The floor could use a pass with the broom."

"Right on it." I actually don't mind sweeping up hair that much because there's a built-in suction device near the back of the room. All I have to do is sweep the hair over to it and the stuff disappears inside. Kind of satisfying in a soothing way, come to think of it. What I do dislike is emptying the bag that stashes all of the hair. Disgusting.

I'm sweeping over near the hair dryers where one older woman is stationed. Her hair is in foil wraps and she's reading a magazine. The woman lifts her feet as I approach so I push the broom quickly under them without making eye contact.