The Treehouse
I never wanted to live here. I like it, don't get me wrong, but still, I can't help wishing for somewhere better. I used to live in a nice little house, smack dab in the middle of California. I was a regular happy little 9 year old, going to school, church on Sunday, hanging out with friends. My mom was a lawyer, and my dad had died when I was 4. We were a happy family, just the two of us. But things started going bad on my 10th birthday.
Fred wanted to be my stepdad. Everyone could see that, except my mom. Fred was an ugly gross man with buckteeth and greasy, black hair. When I asked my mom why she kept going to dinner and parties with him, and if they were getting married, she just sighed and said "Jayden, mommy is just hanging out with a friend. He is just a friend." And that was always the end of that. No matter how dumb I was, I still knew she was lying.
A few weeks before my tenth birthday, I noticed that my usually fashionable mom was wearing really baggy shirts. Then one day, she wore a normal shirt to go out to dinner, and I said "Mommy, you look kind of fat." Astonished, she looked up from the dinner she was heating up for me and said "What? Oh honey, don't worry, I'm fine."
But unfortunately, that was not the end of that. My mom kept getting fatter, and I was worried. So, sly as I was at age 9, every time my mom and I were watching TV and a weight loss commercial came on, I'd nonchalantly say "Oh, I hear that works really well."
She never took the hint.
On my tenth birthday, all my friends and family (and Fred) were gathered around a table, where I blew out the candles on a pretty cake and opened mountains of presents. It was the best birthday I'd ever had. Almost. The only bad part was that by that time my mom looked she swallowed a watermelon and no Weight Watchers hint was working. Eventually everyone left, and it was just my mom, Fred, and I. I went over and said goodnight to my mom, completely ignoring Fred. "Wait, honey." She said to me. "I have just one more surprise for you."
Eager for just one more present, I sat down and waited on the sofa. Fred and my mom kneeled in front of me. "Am I getting a puppy?" I asked excitedly. "I always wanted a puppy. Or a kitty! Or a goldfish! Or-"
"Honey," my mom interrupted, "Your not getting a puppy. It's something better! We're getting…," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, "A baby girl!"