Only In My Dreams

Dreaming of Wilderness

CHAPTER ONE 

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I hate my parents. Hate them with a passion. They never listen to me and they don't seem to care about me at all. They think I'm a typical teen from one of those books they buy that say that it can help adults handle "any problem that occurs in your teenage child." I feel really bad for the children that have to be around the adults who write that crap, but I'm getting off topic.  

Why do I hate my parents? The same reason any other child would. They are taking me away from my friends in Carmel, California to go to stinking Maine. I don't even know where in Maine I'm going to be! All I know is that Maine is on the other side of the States and I won't see my friends anymore. My parents are malevolent monsters.  

I slammed the door to my room as I stepped over the thresh hold. With an sigh (which sounded more like a growl if you were actually there to hear it), I flopped on my bed and looked out the window. The sparkling blue waves caressed the sandy shores of the beach below as I pulled out my phone. When in doubt, call your best friend. Mine happened to be Skye.  

I've known Skye since we were little kids, playing the the sand and splashing in the salty waters of the ocean. Her mom was my mom's best friend. They've been friends since about high school. My mom's about forty so that's about twenty or thirty years. A really long time. I'm barely fifteen myself! 

"Hey, Lacey," Skye said as she finally picked up her mobile. "What's up?" 

"We're moving," I said dryly, not caring to put up a charade of happiness at the moment.  

"Oh. Jeez. I'll be right over," she stated, and hung up.  

I threw my phone at the numerous pillows that aligned the head of my bed. I felt like crying, but I don't cry. It's not even supposed to be in my vocabulary, but that little booger just won't come out of the nose. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I was wallowing in my self-pity.  

To be quite frank, I looked better before I flopped on the bed. The hairspray in my honey brown hair was finally fading and my curls were falling. My red sundress hugged my thighs at the moment, but that was because I was sitting down. It usually comes right below my knees and hangs loosely. I hate tight-fitting clothes. They are totally irksome.  

A knock came to my bedroom door. I looked at my miniature grandfather clock on my dresser. It's only been five minutes. Skye shouldn't be here for another five. It should be either a) Mom or b) Dad. Neither of which I was in the mood to talk to. So I just sat there, waiting for whoever it was to go away. Another knock at the door. I still didn't move. Apparently, parents don't know when to go away. So, since I didn't answer, that means walk right in. Am I right? Nope.  

"Hun?" my mom asked as she cracked the door open.  

I resisted the urge to grab the sling shot I keep under my pillow and fling something at her. I knew if I hurt her, the end result wouldn't do me any good. Though my next thought was throw a pillow at her, I sat, frozen and glaring at her, not willing to move.  

"Sweetie," Mom said, opening the door wider and standing in the open doorway, looking a little nervous. "I want you to know that your father and I mean no harm when we said we were moving. We just need a new location, new scenery, new . . ."  

Her voice trailed off as I gave her a cold stare. She bit her lip, as she often does when she's nervous. I do that, too, sometimes. I guess that where I get it from. I cross my arms and concentrated on making my voice sound cold, hard, and angry. Well, I was angry, but cold and hard didn't come easily. I heard I look pretty scary when I'm pissed. One of my old friends said that she saw red in my midnight-blue eyes before.  

"What else is new mom?" I asked, glad my voice sound dismissive at least. "I've lived here my whole life. The hospital I was born in is right around the corner. Remember when we used to go and stand in the room I was born in on my birthday every year? Probably not, since you and dad are always working." 

My mom paled and a felt a slight sinking feeling in my gut. I hated doing this to her, but if it gets me to stay here with the rest of my friends, hey, let's go to the boxing ring. My mom opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head, silencing her so I could go on.  

"And then there are my friends. The people I've known since I was little," I said, waving my hands as I talked now, feeling better at getting some of this off my chest. "And don't you dare say we can keep in touch with our mobiles and emails and such," I snarled. "It isn't the same. What about your friends? Like Skye's mom, maybe? What about me and Skye!? You know I'm tutoring her in Math! I'm the only one their family can afford, and that's because I don't charge." 

My mom cringed. I know I got her with that one. I crossed my arms again, waiting for her to say something. For a while all that sounded in the room was the distant crash of the waves, the clicking of the grandfather clock and our breathing. We didn't move. Then, my mom took a breath and grasped the door handle. She turned.  

"We'll talk about this later, Lacey Anne. All five of us," she stated as she closed the door and walked away.  

The five of us. My mom, my dad, my older sister, my younger brother, and (duh) me. My window opened as Skye climbed in. He faded blue jeans made her look boyish. Not to mention her short hair and boyfriend's t-shirt. I still wonder how she gets all the guys and I don't. Probably her carefree attitude. Huh. Whatever. She had a sad look in her brown eyes and her face was warped into a frown.  

"Your parents are sooo evil!" she said, sitting on the bed.  

"Tell me about it," I muttered.  

"They wouldn't even let me in, said you in one of your 'moods'," she said, making air quotes around "moods". Then she went on, "So I climbed through the window. Thank goodness I was wearing jeans today." 

I laughed at her. We talked for some time, my iPod's speakers blaring so my parents wouldn't hear us talking. When they came and knocked on the door, Skye dived under the bed. They walked in just as I curled up and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. They whispered something to each other and closed the door. I could hear them walking down the stairs and Skye popped her head out from under the bed, grinning.  

"I think that's my que to leave. Text you later, babe," she said with a wink and climbed back out of the window.  

I sighed as I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Maybe next time I open them, everything will go away.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This part of the story is just a glimpse into the life of Lacey Anne Simms. Next chapter should have something to do with the title, promise. ;)

{I edited. (: 6-6-11}