Looking from my distraught mother, Elizabeth, to my 12 year old sister, Emma, I quickly made my decision. "Yes mom. I want to go live with dad, and I want Emma to come too." Elizabeth's face paled dramatically and Emma stood up, dropping the fruit loops she had been munching on in the process. "Yes!" Emma nearly screamed and locked her arms around my neck in a hug that seemed too strong for her petite body.
Brushing her unique bronze-colored hair out of her bright greens eyes I told her to go pack. After a moment of unlatching her arms from my neck she obeyed and came back down shortly after carrying a small royal blue duffel bag adorned with her middle school mascot, the gators, and her favorite quilt.
Seeing that she was ready, I rushed up to my room and grabbed the bag I had already packed. I had called Dad the night before to arrange our flight from Chicago to Seattle and then the short flight to Port Angeles and finally the ride to forks in his patrol car. I didn't mind the car much, but Emma hated the fact that she had to sit behind the plastic barrier if we went anywhere.
That was why I had been saving up my money to buy a car to drive Emma and myself back and forth from school.
I called a cab and we were gone in 5 minutes flat. Leaving Elizabeth in the dust felt good for a change. No more drug problems. No more crazy boyfriends. And best of all, no more of her tipsy friends coming on to me. Elizabeth had been doing drugs since she met her boyfriend, Phil, 2 years ago. He was always a horrible man and pushed her into it. It was quite disgusting to say the least.
We got to the air port and left our broken mother behind. Finally we would be able to start over. Finally.