a/n: I'm sorry guys, I kept forgetting to upload. I was distracted playing video games, buying and hanging up posters (I have yet to get a Hetalia one!), cleaning the house because we have a guest right now, and practicing for band. Auditions for snare and quads are tomorrow and I really want snare so I'm uploading really quick today…sorry for any mistakes in this chapter.
I didn't get any questions. Oh well XD
"Ahhhh!"
The car jerked violently to the right, half the car now off the road, and jerked back to the left suddenly, the car narrowly avoiding the stray dog crossing the road.
"That was close one, da?" Sitka smiled back at Cheyenne and me in the back, knuckles white from clinging to the edges of the seat, and feet braced on the seat in front of us to keep ourselves from flying through the windshield at Sitka's next Sudden Death Brake. All I could manage was a weak nod, my throat too raw from screaming to produce any understandable sounds.
"We will be there soon!" She exclaimed, edging her foot down on the gas pedal, accelerating while swerving in between the few cars on the road. For the first time in my life I was getting car sick and I let out a moan as the next jerk doubled the feeling.
"If you hurl on me I'm going to hurl a fist to your face," Cheyenne said, warily watching me and my most likely green face.
My only response was a grunt as a rested my head on the window, closing my eyes and trying to settle my stomach. It was maybe six seconds before another turn brought my relaxed head off the window, and slammed it back down.
"Aghh..." I groaned as I leaned away from the window and rubbed the forming bruise on my head. I hate it when that happens.
"Yay! I found your street!" Sitka squealed as she took a sharp right and plowed through the dirt road, braking at the last minute in front of my house.
I immediately unbuckled myself, opened the door and flew onto the ground, on hands and knees. I never thought I'd feel dirt again. At least it was all over now.
I slowly picked myself up of the ground, wincing as I felt a rock stuck in my elbow. I picked it out and shrugged at the tiny drop of blood from my arm. Hell of a lot better than a piece of car metal through my leg or glass in my eye.
"Aspen!"
I looked up from my tiny wound at my mother who was rushing towards me.
"Mom!" I yelled back as I dropped the rock and ran to meet her halfway, embracing her in a bear hug, which she gladly returned.
She stepped back, one hand still on my shoulder. "Come inside! You two, too," she said, motioning for all three of us to come inside the house as she led the way.
A warm, familiar smell greeted me as I walked through the door, and Cheyenne recognized it, too.
"Cinnamon rolls!" We both exclaimed as we dashed to the kitchen.
"Wait for me!" Sitka exclaimed and she ran after us into the kitchen, where we stood staring at a batch of still-warm cinnamon rolls. I reached my hand out to grab one.
"Nuh-uh!" My dad exclaimed as he thwacked my hand away with his mixing spoon, splattering frosting all up my arm, "I haven't frosted them yet!" He dipped his spoon back into the frosting bowl while I licked the splattered frosting off my arm. "Now shoo!" he said, waving his frosting-loaded spoon at us in warning.
We all awed our disappointment and turned to a laughing Mom.
"You girls can hang out in Aspen's room for now and I'll holler when the rolls are ready, ok?" she said, and then addressed her husband, "You better frost those rolls faster!"
The first thing I did when I entered my room consisted of running across the room and taking a flying leap onto my bed, face-first. I grinned as I inhaled the smell of my sheets. They were still somewhat clean and they smelled like home. That was the important part.
I would miss this part of my life. Sure, it would be fun getting to know my real family and living with them, but nothing is ever as comforting as having two loving parents and a place to call home... that didn't have flour on the ceiling.
I don't think I would have a choice though. After all, I'm a 104,094 square mile expanse of government property and home to over 5 million people.
I sighed. I didn't even know I knew that.
"You. Are. Retarded," Cheyenne said, playfully smacking me upside the head.
"Hey!" I sprang up from the bed, knocking over Cheyenne in the process. Sitka stood aside watching us, smiling yet again.
"You two act like siblings already!" she commented, "but I think Aspen needs help packing her stuff..." She looked at the closet, full of almost nothing but black clothes, and frowned, "and help with her wardrobe."
"Th' bl'ck is fine!" I countered, walking over to the closet and standing beside her. "Let's j'st st'rt p'cking th' imp'rt'nt stuff f'rst," I said, lifting some of my favorite t-shirts out, my black skinny jeans, and a couple sweaters for the upcoming winter. I would come back for more after I stuffed this in a box.
"Where're th' b'xes..." I muttered, looking around the room for a place to set the clothes in.
"Here," Cheyenne said, heaving a stack of folded down boxes towards us.
"Ah, m'n, they haven't b'n p'pped up yet..." I stated, throwing the pile of clothes in my arms onto the bed and picking up one of the boxes. I pulled it open and flipped it over, folding down the flaps that made the bottom of the box. "I n'd p'cking t'pe..." I mumbled to myself, handing the box to Sitka while I went and looked for it.
"Cinnamon rolls are done!" My mom hollered down the hall at us. We had just finished taping down the flaps to the second box.
All three of us immediately dropped what we were doing and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a cinnamon roll off the tray and the napkins my dad threw at us as we stuffed our faces and giggled happily.
My mom also grabbed one, but she was boring and put hers on a plate and ate it with a fork. That is how one eats cake, not a cinnamon roll. Pfft, adults.
My feeling of home was shattered once I finished my cinnamon roll and remembered I still had to pack and leave.
"I pr'm'se 'll c'me b'ck 'nd vis't," I told my mom, or, foster mom. We had finally finished loading the boxes into Sitka's car. There weren't that many.
"You'd better," my mom replied, giving me a bear hug, which I gladly returned. "I'll miss you."
"'ll m'ss you too, m'm." I really would.
"Ok," Sitka interjected, closing the back of the car, "fun is over...we need to go home."
Home..., I thought as I untangled myself from Mom, do I even have one anymore?
As I buckled myself into the seat I realized one other thing.
Sitka had to drive us back.
a/n: All the feels +_+ Poor Aspen…I would hate that. I think she's taking it pretty well though, given the circumstances.
One can have a house, but not a home.
Alright, later on in the story…I need your guys' input…would you rather have state-napping (lol like kidnapping…get it?), supernatural intervention, or more of a school-based thing where they all get transferred to Aspen and Cheyenne's school and hilarity ensues. And when I say supernatural intervention I mean vampires, werewolves, ghosts…legit stuff like that (and TECHNICALLY the story already is kinda supernatural because well…we having landmasses as people, ya know?)
Or MURDER! DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNN…
Input your input, you inputers (not a real word)! Ha…say that five times fast…I can't even THINK it five times fast :P
No questions…I want that^ in the review this time ^^ and ask me questions, too! :D I LUUUUV QUESTIONS!
Metaphorical Boston Crème Pie! Yum!
