I knew moving was a bad idea. I kept saying it over and over again to my parents, "We're fine here in Wisconsin, why the hell do we have to move to bum-fuck Louisiana of all places?" But they never listened. Their decision had already been made ahead of time. There was no point in arguing, nor was there anything I could do about it.
I looked over to my sister, who sat alone on the couch. Headphones in her ears, a book in her hands, she couldn't pay less attention to anything I said if she tried. (Yeah, I wasn't exactly on the best of terms with her- it'd been that way for about four years now.) She said nothing to me. She said nothing to my parents.
It was like she didn't even care anymore.
Of course, living in an entirely new place had its downs.
Yes, I'm aware of what I said. There were no ups to living in Louisiana as far as I could see. All the so-called "perks" were negative. Being a senior in high school didn't exactly help anything, either. Despite being in the top grade, kids from my own graduating class would push and bump into me in the hallway. They'd call me stupid names like "white trash" and whatever else you could think of.
I'd come home every day and throw my backpack down on the floor by the basement door. Mom would look up from her chair in the living room and ask, "How was school, honey? Any better?" To which I would answer with a blunt, "No," and trudge up the stairs to my room. Dad would yell up and ask what I wanted for supper. I'd slam the door without even bothering to respond. I would then proceed to bury my head under my pillows of my bed.
Delicately reaching my ears, I'd hear my sister's television in her room. True to form, she was watching wrestling again.
I'd normally kick the wall and tell her to turn that shit down, but God knows I'd rather step on a thumbtack than speak to her at the moment.
My eyes shut drowsilly as I allowed a nap to overtake my conciousness. Unfortunately for me, her television speakers were still on when I finally fell asleep.