A/N: Hey there! Since you're here you decide to give this story a chance. And for that I thank you. Please review even if you have nothing good to say (I hope that isn't the case though). I won't bore you with a long author's note so here you go!
I woke up this morning to find a glorious surprise. The house was actually clean.
The dirty laundry was picked up; the empty pizza boxes were gone. And there wasn't a beer bottle in sight. There was a basket of fresh laundry done and the whole house smelled like Pine Sol. My dad was sitting on a couch and (here's the most mind-boggling thing) he was actually sober!
He looked like he had finally shaved and was wearing a clean, white button up and tie. His hair was actually combed and cut so that you could see his amber eyes under his auburn hair.
I made a dramatic show of walking out the front door and double-checking the house number before coming inside.
"That's very funny Mollipop. Your Aunt Brenda's here." Ah so that explained a lot. Yes, my dad calls me Mollipop. I bet your parents have embarrassing nicknames for you too.
My Aunt Brenda was a very neat and polite woman. She was a bit eccentric but was very nurturing. I believe she's some sort of nurse but I'm not sure. She had some sort of fancy title with it that I never bothered to remember.
She had my black hair but her eyes were amber. She kept her hair extremely long and always threw it into a long braid. My dad used to tell me stories of how when they were kids, she went through this rebellious phase and chopped it all off. I had a hard time imagining Aunt Brenda as 'rebellious' but that probably makes sense since the worst she could do was chop off her hair.
Aunt Brenda sometimes stops by to make sure were doing okay. She does our spring cleaning and leaves some cash for me on my dresser. Whenever she was here was one of the rare times I could count on a hot meal. As you can imagine I was always happy to see her.
I took a whiff of the unusually fresh air and found that there was a cinnamon aroma. This could only mean one thing.
I make a break for the dinner table which we rarely ever use. I wasn't surprised to see that this year's pile of accumulated trash had been removed.
I slide awkwardly into the worn chair that I wasn't used to sitting in. I could hardly contain myself as she placed the warm plate of fluffy French toast she made from challah bread. "Hmm, challah. My fav!" Two sausage links and half a grapefruit sat on the plate.
I was in food heaven. The kind where no one ever starved, and the all you can eat Chinese buffets never closed or kicked you out because you got into a fistfight with a 6 year-old girl over the last dumpling. Which I totally didn't do.
Right as I was about to put the piece of warm sticky happiness on my tongue, I accidently inhaled the mountain of powdered sugar I covered my French toast in.
I start having a massive cough attack that brings tears to my eyes. Being the spaz that I am on my way to the sink to get some water, I trip over one of the ends of the table and send the entire plate crashing to the ground.
I gasp in horror as I watch the scene unfold in front of me. The sausages fall first and bounce a little on the floor. The French toast lands with a dull sploosh and the grapefruit rolls to the other side of the room. Finally, the glass breaks and I fight the urge to cry over my fallen friends.
I send a harsh glare to my dad who seems to think this is hilarious. "Maybe next time champ." He says mockingly to me.
Aunt Brenda is sympathetic. "I can make another if you like, Molls." Glancing at the clock, I realize I don't have enough time to wait for her to make another plate. I would have never slept in so late if I knew her breakfast was going to be waiting on me.
With a sigh of defeat I turn her down and trudge back up the stairs to get dressed. I put on an old pair of jeans and a My Chemical Romance t-shirt (I'm not really a fan I just borrowed it from my friend Grayson.) I pull out a pair of yellow vans that are kind of falling apart. They've got a few holes but I've deemed them wearable. I doodled on them so that their now covered in sharpie. My dad told me that I gave them character.
Once I was ready to go I grabbed my windbreaker, backpack, and skateboard. "I'm out." I yelled.
I ride the skateboard over to Grayson's house which is about a block away in this neighborhood called Creepy Meadows. No, I am not joking. That's the name of the actual neighborhood. Because naming your neighborhood 'Creepy Meadows' is such an attractive name for potential buyers.
Grayson had the perfect family. A perfect house, a perfect neighborhood (minus the name), the perfect jobs. The perfect loving kids who did their homework and never bickered or fought. The white picket fence, the three kids, they had it all.
I won't lie. Some days I'm kind of jealous of him. His dad works at the bank and his mom is a kindergarten teacher/ part-time house wife. He has an older brother currently studying at Princeton and the most adorable little sister named Millicent.
It bothers me sometimes how perfect his life his. How in the cards of life, he had the best deck but the cards seemed to always be stacked against me.
He used to piss me off so much when he complained about his family. How his mom is always checking in on him. How much pressure they put on him. But so what? At the end of the day he's not eating the year old top ramen you've been rationing.
But I guess I can't blame him. He has basically no freedom because if he doesn't call his mom every 10 min when he isn't within a half-mile radius, you can COUNT on the cops being called. But nowadays they wait a good two hours before responding because she's notorious for doing it.
I unlock the front door and march into his house unannounced. I did it all the time. His parents were so used to me they stopped caring. The first day I met Grayson I learned they always keep their key under the wooden bear sitting in the chair holding a 'Welcome' sign.
"Hello Molly Jane!" Mrs. Pierce calls cheerily. Although her voice his chipper I can see her lips purse. It's no secret that she'd rather have someone more… not me hanging out with her son. Over the 3 years I'd lived here in Erie, Pennsylvania I'd built a reputation for myself.
"Hello Mrs. Pierce. GRAYSON GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE!" I scream. Mrs. Pierce looks startled.
"Molly Jane I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't yell in my house, please." She gave me an award winning smile.
"Oh sure thing Mrs. Pierce." I say mocking her cheerful attitude.
Honestly. I don't know why the woman even tries anymore. I do the exact same thing every day.
"I'm coming. I'm coming." Grayson says. Grayson is tall and lanky. He looked like he could be an Olympic runner. Which he kinda is, er wants to be.
He sports a blonde crew cut and has electric blue eyes that make the girls at our school swoon.
Did I mention that he's two years older than me?
Now I know what you're thinking. What's a sixth-grader doing hanging out (yes hanging out, were only friends.) with an eighth grader? Who would want some little kid being around them all the time? Good question. I'm not entirely sure.
Grayson tells me it's because I'm so reckless. I go around doing whatever I want. He says he envies my freedom and loves my attitude. I guess the feeling is mutual. We complete each other. I'm everything he wants to be but isn't and as much as I hate to say it, I want to be like Grayson. The kind of person you'd be proud to introduce to parents.
But it's whatever, I am who I am. I tell Grayson he should get over it. He's a goody two shoes and he needs to move on.
Together we ride our skateboards to school. Well, Grayson's mom actually doesn't know he does that. His mom says they're way too dangerous and rattled off some statistics of skateboard related deaths and a whole bunch of other crap. His dad bought it for him on the sly. I praise his dad for this. At least he doesn't want his son to grow up to be a sheltered freak.
The ride to school was peaceful. We don't talk a lot; we just enjoy the wind blowing through our hair. Well, my hair mostly since his is so short.
The both of us attend Oakwood Jr. High School. The school has ivy running up and down through it and it looks a little shabby but I love it.
"Molly, Grayson!" I turn around to see Porter running (which is a very rare sight) waving a paper around and rushing to us.
"Read this," he yells as he shoves the paper in my face.
I scan the flyer the letters were tiny, written in cursive, and very colorful. It was murder on my dyslexic eyes. I swear it took me at least 20 minutes to decipher it.
I finally came to the conclusion that it was some sort of Greek reenactment camp. It showed pictures of campers happily playing volleyball and canoeing. There was a bunch of pictures showing campers hugging each other. The whole thing was so obnoxious and ridiculous; I crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. Naturally, I missed.
"Hey." Porter screamed. "I was looking at that! Great now I have to get another."
"Why would you want to go to something so stupid?" I looked him over.
Porter was wearing grey sweat pants and a Kelly green Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt. He was a short kid with a round, baby face and kind of pudgy. He's in the seventh grade. Kids made fun of him a lot because his real name is Portia. We call him Porter because it's more emasculating. Don't ask me what his mother was thinking because to this day I have no fucking clue.
Poor kid couldn't catch a break because thanks to his already bigger stature, pink cheeks, and the fact that Porter was very close to Porker, they called him Porky. Like the pig. Or sometimes just Porker.
The kid was mad funny though. This was why we were friends.
"I don't know it sounds kind of interesting." Grayson remarks.
"Oh please you just want to get away from your mom for the summer!" The tell-tale corners of his mouth start to curve and I cut him off before he can deny it.
"Yup, I see that smirk you just want an escape." I glare at him, daring him to say otherwise.
"So what if I do? Besides what do you have better to do?" I scowl at him.
"Of course I have better things to do besides sitting around with a bunch of geeks in plastic battle armor!" Some people turn around and gave me a curious look. I sent them a world class mind-your-own-damn-business look. "Anyway you know I can't pay. Plus it's all the way in New York." I say this more quietly because I don't like every one knowing about my business.
"It says here it's free and for people with disabilities like dyslexia and ADHD. It's perfect for us. But you have to be recommended."
"Recommended?" Just who did these people think they were? "Where'd you even get this?"
"That girl over there!" He pointed to a girl with dirty blonde hair and a hat covering her eyes. She caught us looking at her and quickly looked away. I noticed she was standing next to Lauren and I groaned.
I groaned "Oh God, it's Lauren."
Lauren was Porter's sister she was the same age as me and somewhere down the line, convinced herself we were friends and go shopping on weekends and to Pinkberry every Wednesday. I stand her up for shopping but always go to Pinkberry because she pays for my fro-yo. Hey if she wants to pay she's totally welcome to.
The reason I didn't really like Lauren was that we were total opposites. She was into that whole girly girl movement that seemed to be really in with the popular girls. And she tries sooo hard to be my friend. I don't know why. Maybe she feels the need to since I don't seem to have very many of my own.
"Brrring" The first period bell goes off.
"Catch you guys later. I'll see you on the bus!" Grayson yells as he takes off to his 1st period.
I stand in line for the bus eagerly. Usually I don't care for field trips but this one was going to be epic. For the end of the year trip we get to go to Hershey Park. Only here's the best part. It's only for the kids in special classes. I get to ride the awesomely funtastic Skyrush. While the losers that called us losers get to stay in class. Pretty sweet huh?
Coach Kenner checks off our names as we get on the bus. "Name?" she asks me.
"Molly Jane Zeth." She nodded and said "Go ahead" gruffly.
I cram myself into a seat with Porter and Grayson. But right as I'm doing it, Ms. Hackney chews me out.
"Only two to a seat. There are sixteen kids on this trip and this bus has the potential to seat 50! Find another seat." I sigh since there is no point in arguing with Ms. Hackney. Even I wouldn't go there.
I could have easily chosen a seat by myself but Lauren looked like she was going to pee her pants, waving and yelling for me to sit with her. She looked so hopeful and happy. Standing her up at the mall was one thing; she could easily have fun by herself. But looking her in the face and shooting her down was cruel. Especially with Angel sitting in front of her.
Don't let the name fool you. She's no angel. And I couldn't leave Lauren there to fend for herself. She wasn't even supposed to be on this trip. But of course she always gets what she wants.
I plop down in my sit unhappily and cross my arms. This is going to be a real long trip.
Thunder rumbles in the distance and it starts raining. This day just keeps getting better and better.
Well that's all folks! Don't forget to review!