When my dad told us that we were moving, I never expected that we'd be moving to a different country. Canada, to be exact. It's not like I was upset about it or anything, I mean, I HATE New York. Okay maybe I don't hate New York specifically, but I sure as hell hate the other people who live there. Always judging others by what they look like and making fun of people because they're a little "different". I was sick of it, all of it. Of course, I didn't think moving would really change anything, but it's worth a shot, right?
I started packing right away. Starting with the things I didn't need for the next few days. I took everything down for my shelves, books, perfume, pictures. I stopped and stared at one picture in particular. It was a photo my mom took of my and my best friend when we were 12. I looked so different then, I still had my long straight hair with these ugly full bangs and I would always wear bright colors and smile none stop. Now I had short choppy layers, always dressed in grays and blacks, not to mention I hardly ever smile anymore. What's the point in smiling when my only reason to be happy was gone... forever? I ran my fingers over the picture slowly, and placed it on top of all my other pictures.
"Andi! Come downstairs, it's time for dinner!" My brother, Jason, called from the stairs. I closed up the box and headed downstairs. My family rarely had "family meals" but we were having one this time to commemorate our last few days in this house.
I took a seat at the table next to my mom, my brother was sitting across from her and my dad was at the head of the table, of course. "So, Andi, did you start packing yet?" my dad asked me as he poured himself some soda.
"Yeah, I cleared all my shelves and some of my art supplies." I answered, stabbing the meat on my plate with my fork. I was a big meat eater, I tired to go vegetarian once, but that didn't last long.
My dad smiled at me and finished chewing he food then turned towards my old brother. "And what about you, Jason? What have you packed so far." My brother practically glared at my dad then made a kind of "pff" noise, then continued to eat. He didn't exactly like the idea of moving as much as I did. He had friends here, I didn't.
After that we all continued eating, no one said anything and all you could here was the scratching of forks against the plates and the gulping of drinks. It was painful... eating in silence, I really hated it. I ate quick and finished first, excused myself and cleaned my plate. I then ran up to my room and continued packing.
I really hope things are different when we move...
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