Carlos knows that hate is a very strong word, and should be used loosely. His mother told him that when he was six and Lucy at daycare had broken his favorite pencil. She had wiped his cheeks dry and told him he hadn't really hated Lucy from daycare, but merely disliked her in that moment. Carlos is pretty sure he hated that Lucy from daycare, though.
But Carlos can't think of anything else that can perfectly word out what he's feeling at the moment. Hatred. The word feels so foreign and foul on his tongue. But that's all that he feels. Perhaps he's not being realistic, or the hatreds clouded his judgment. But he really hates this.
He hates the large truck that coughs up smoke in their driveway. He hates the wind that's too strong to be pleasant, and pushes him around constantly. He hates stuffing boxes to the brim with his mothers clothing, which he knows the majority of which aren't even worn.
He hates his mother's rebellious attitude as well. She's quick to let herself get started. She'll babble on and on about how Mr. Anderson at the Office who apparently doesn't care about the flickering lights in the main corridor. She talks fast too; sometimes she stumbles over her words mid rant.
Apparently Mr. Anderson talks faster.
Plus, he's her boss. So perhaps she should've thought it over a bit more when she decided she'd had enough of Mr. Anderson at the Office. He'd fired her right on the spot. That day, she came home like a vicious firecracker ready to explode. Her hair undone, shoes kicked off somewhere in the distance. After Carlos had eventually calmed her down, she'd announced they'd be moving on the spot, upstate to the city of Lievester, a place much different then their quiet country life style. Mrs. Craeler at the Parlor had told Jamie at the Grocery Store to tell Ms. Amy at the Bus stop to tell his mother; Mrs. De Vil, that Lievester had the cheapest pay for buying houses, and many open jobs with good pay. When Carlos asked when, she said tomorrow. A million other questions danced on his tongue, but only one was spoken.
"What?"
Which is why he's here now, cradling boxes of his mother's glass as though it's ancient. One of the moving men dropped one out of anger a few hours ago, his mother didn't bother to check it after she heard the shatter. She just pinched the bridge of her nose and looked at the ceiling, Carlos would've as well if he wasn't busy trying to safely transport the glass from the kitchen to the trunk. He puts it in softly, but it honestly didn't matter how softly he'd put it in, because a few moving men placed their stained sofa right in front of it afterwards, hopefully it was in front of it. The Sun had grown weary and traded its spot in the sky with the moon when they finally finished getting everything in. His mother and him had just started cramming themselves into their tiny automobile when their neighbor, Mr. Spinel tapped on the window of their little automobile that chokes on gas to often.
Mrs. De Vil does not like Mr. Spinel. So Carlos is not at all surprised to find his mother glaring at him.
"Hey, Mrs. De Vil,"
His mother nodded, trying to be polite.
"Hey, Mr. Spinel," says Carlos; the only actual being that doesn't hate Mr. Spinel
"I um, get you all a Goodbye gift, just something to remember my family and me by." His mother nodded again, and Mr. Spinel handed the gift to Carlos. It was wrapped in tacky Christmas wrapper with a dull yellow ribbon taped onto it. Carlos cringed at the color combination. He forced a smile at Mr. Spinel as he quickly walked away. Carlos hears his mother grumbled obscenities that were undoubtedly about the tacky wrapper. The car groaned as he started it up, Carlos could feel his stomach churn as he passed all the streets that were bathed in memories, some good and some bad. Like when he had gotten a shiny in his first Pokemon deck in ninth grade. Afterwards Bruce Brenner had heard about it and gave him a choice. He'd get a broken arm, or he'd give up his shiny, Carlos chose the broken arm. Bruce gave him a second option, he'd either get a black eye along with his broken arm, or he'd give up his shiny. Even though Carlos gave up his shiny, he still got a black eye. A two for one deal!
Somewhere along the road, his mother had decided the roaring of traffic wasn't enough noise for them, so she turned on a 90's radio station and went back to her teenage years. She'd rolled all the windows down and let the rain wash down on her and Carlos, who wasn't as happy about it as she was. She was belting out the lyrics as though she were at a rock concert. Carlos tried writing the word "help" in the window; all he got were sympathetic stares. He tried screaming over the lyrics to get his mothers attention, but she was so to deep into the music that Carlos hadn't even known why he bothered to try. So Carlos resigned himself to the deepest corner he could find and curled up in it. He tried blocking the rain with his back, but the rain pelted through his shirt He could see the moving truck behind him; along with the people who'd they'd paid to help with the move. Carlos swore he saw him doze off once or twice in the last minute or so while driving.
Carlos groaned in dismay. This all happened to quickly for his liking. His shirt was sticking to his back and it irritated his skin. The roar of the cars contrasted significantly to the usual hum of cicadas in his country hometown. When he looked up in the sky, it was clear, a sight he'd never seen. There were no stars in sight, just the flickering of the road lights they passed by often.
I have a problem, I start projects then abandon them when I can't think of anything else. Review though guys. :) -R.B