If Smiles could Kill

Breakfast at Awkwardland

I am not a morning person. In fact I despise the sight of sunlight invading my room through the crack between the curtains. I hate having to get out of this warm bed. But I got no choice.

Right. I got transferred to another school. And today I’ve gotta haul my ass over there. Why? Simply because my crafty mother had a back-up plan. Would you believe it? She actually anticipated that I would fail in that old school and end up having to enter another. She sneaked an application and had me take the test. Well hells hole. I did not at all notice ‘cause she had sent applications for high schools left and right not even 4 months before my graduation from middle school.

Bless damned overly prepared mothers. Overly attached parents too. Not that I have parents. I only have one. My mom. One parent. I don’t know my father’s name. I don’t know where he’s from. How he looks like. How he likes his coffee, or if he even drinks coffee. But seriously what kind of person doesn’t drink coffee. He’d have to be tasteless. Or one of those over health conscious people.

I scrambled out of my room and acted all sneaky going to the kitchen. Was not at all effective. She’d been up awake making a big deal of packing me lunch and making breakfast. As if I didn’t eat cereal most days and food from the cafeteria.

“Good, you’re up and about.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I hate having to hold your allowance as leverage to get you to attend school.” As if she hated it. She probably laughed over how a great blackmailers she is. I thought as I opened the cupboard.

I took my favorite bowl and mug. Poured some cereal and milk. Settled on a kitchen bar stool.

“What are you doing? Arent you gonna eat what I’m cooking? Got bacon and eggs all sizzling here.”

“Sorry. It’s a habit.” I said through a mouthful of honey stars. “I’ll eat them anyways.”

I grabbed the plate right after she transferred the hot pieces from the pan. The toaster dinged and she buttered the loaves then put down the plate in front of me.

“Eat up! You better be ready for your first day on Conrad.”

“Conrad Academy just sounds so tacky.” I said as I chewed on a slice of almost burnt bacon.

“It’s a good school! I was surprised that you actually passed their entrance exam! You should be grateful you get to study there.”

“Right I should be. But you see. I ain’t” I said through gritted teeth.

Tears welled up in her eyes. As if I was gonna fall for that. I was mad. Boy was I mad.

“I- I forgot to tell you that…-that..” She turned around to the sink and washed some plates.  “Conrad is a boarding school. I contacted the Headmaster anyhow. Told them I’d send all your luggage a week later.”

“How did you forget to tell me? Wait. Im guessing. You just didn’t want to tell me. Arent you happy! You’re sending me away for good! It must be such a relief. Must be so easy for you to just give me up to a phony prep school.”

Now I was really mad. Well she just told me I’m as good as gone. I’m not welcome in this house at all. Great! Cause I’m fed up with it too!

“I’m done eating. You’ll have to send my bike over too.”

“OK. Be down in an hour. I have to drive you over there remember?”

I did not remember. She did not tell me that. But I said “Right.” anyway. I stood up and went back to my room. Took what might be the last ever shower I would have in the house I grew up in. Put on jeans and a band shirt. Laced up my sneakers. Slung my full back pack on my shoulders and bounded for the door.

As I opened the car door I glimpsed the attic and saw that the curtain was blowing in the wind. The porch steps were old and still the same color since I was a kid. The hedges were not at all pruned. That front door still had the carvings on its dark wood. Boy I might actually miss this house.

The ride was quiet. We did not speak to each other. I had my earphones and my phone. She had the radio shows. We stopped in about 2 hours.

The school was far from home. It was out in the countryside. It had this massive iron-gate. And a showy white fountain with really fancy looking monuments. The drive way had white gravel and scrunched under the tires. Mom parked right there and went up the steps of the stair way. I followed her. Sure I was amazed. The campus was not at all like the public school I’ve been to. The next moment I was in the principal’s office. Or rather the headmasters office. It said so right there on his marble plaque beside his crystal paper weight.

“Im sure Mr. Hanson will fit right in.” The principal – I mean headmaster said to my mother with this seemingly practiced smile. He must smile a lot for parents.