A/N: I can definitely explain the long time it took to update this story. Ahem: It was because...winter break.
Seriously though, I wanted to update, I swear, but I had writers block, and Netflix was calling my name. Fortunately for y'all, my sister, VolleyballGoddess, was there to slap me back on track and even write a little of this chapter. So, thank her for it.
I do already have parts of chapter four written, and I'll try to update before break is over. Happy New Year's by the way. May 2014 be hella-rad.
I had barely had the pillow on my face for a couple of seconds before Zach yanked it off again. "Let's go, Gallagher Girl. We still have lots to do."
I groaned— again— but took the offered hand and let him pull me up, before starting to help him unpack yet another one of my boxes of stuff. (Seriously, how many things did I have? I don't remember having this many things at Gallagher.). It was a surprise we had gotten so much done so quickly. The next few hours passed by relatively quickly— and Zach's seemingly endless barrage of questions and comebacks made them go by even faster.
"So, do you have any siblings?"
"Nope."
"Cousins?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Aunts or uncles?"
"Do you always ask this many questions when you help a girl unpack?"
"That depends— do you always give one worded answers when a guy is trying to get to know you?" I ducked as a stuffed animal flew at my head.
"Zach!"
"Yes, dear?"
I bit back a smile and tried to look irritated. He saw though, and winked at me.
Zach and I were starving, exhausted, and (probably) pretty smelly by the time Mom called us back downstairs. I dropped the box I was rummaging through and took the stairs two at a time on my way down because the smell of pizza was engulfing the house and making my stomach growl like crazy. Zach chuckled behind me, going quite a bit slower.
"Hey you two!" Mom grinned as we entered the kitchen; peeling open one of the pizza boxes and cracking open a liter of soda. She grabbed a cheesy slice and set it on a freshly unpacked plate. "Hungry?"
I lunged for the food, grabbing two slices and the Sprite before I even responded to her question with a mouth full of pizza. "Yes!" I leaned against the kitchen counter, holding out the slice of pizza and letting the long strip of cheese dangle in the air before plucking it up with two fingers. I looked over at Zach. "Are you gonna eat?" I asked.
He shook his head, and shrugged. "Nah. I have to get going anyways." His eyes wandered over to the clock hanging above Mom's head and slowly started making his way to the door. "I told my sister I'd be home at four. Thanks for having me, Mrs. Morgan." He gave Mom a smooth smile. I glanced at my mom, who shooed me towards the hallway smiling maniacally. I rolled my eyes and set down my pizza slice, following Zach to the front door.
Zach opened the front door, and stepped into the afternoon sun. When he got down the steps he turned and smirked, giving me the typical boy-head nod as he sauntered backwards. "See you around, Gallagher Girl."
"Bye, Zach." I said, suddenly feeling awkward. What do you say to a guy you just met and spent the entire day with in your bedroom? "Thanks for helping me unpack."
He mock bowed. "My pleasure." He pivoted and turned onto the sidewalk towards his house.
"Cammie!" Mom squealed the minute the door had shut. I trudged back into the kitchen and picked up my pizza. She nudged me with her elbow. "That boy is quite the looker." She raised her glass of Sprite in salute and tipped it towards me. "Cheers to you, kiddo." I rolled my eyes and flicked a piece of fallen crust at her.
"Cheers for what? For getting him to help us move? That was all him!" I countered, glancing over at the door that Zach had just left from. Mom shrugged, wiping her greasy hands on her jeans and turning towards her bedroom.
"That's my point!"
I don't know about other girls, but I think shopping is literally the worst. I think walking through a mall for three hours is worse than the worst. And I think trying on the same shirt in six different colors is definitely worse than the worst of the worst. So, of course on Monday night I was absolutely miserable.
"Cam, will you please come out!" Mom was groaning on the other side of the fitting room door. I stared over at my reflection—a moderately tall, sixteen year old, with dirty blonde hair and gray eyes stared back at me looking totally abject—and shook my head even though Mom couldn't see me.
"No way!"
Mom had this great idea, to go shopping for new clothes since (she thought) I had absolutely nothing to wear for my first day of public school besides my old Gallagher uniform. Roseville High's semester didn't start until early September so it left me and my mother lots of time to pick out outfits, but yet she had chosen to pick tonight to drag me to the Roseville Mall and force me to try on a million and one pair of jeans.
"I bet you look gorgeous, honey." Mom calls out again tapping on the dressing room door again. I sighed, staring at myself in the mirror again and rubbing the fabric of the shirt in between my fingers.
"It doesn't fit." I told her. I wanted to yell out that the clothes I had back at home were just as good as the ones hanging on the rack in this dimly lit store, with too much perfume and too loud music, but Mom wouldn't believe me anyways, because her career as a high school principle had given her false confidence in what teenagers think is 'hip' or 'cool'.
"Bull, Cammie," She shouted back, in her no-nonsense tone. "I know for a fact that, that's your size. It fits just fine." The was a rattling on the other side of the door, and the lock started jingling and then the changing room door opened, to reveal Mom holding a bobby pin in her hand.
"Mom!" I groaned, pressing myself up against the wall. "It's not too small, it's too big." I grabbed the shirt at the top, where there was a mile long stretch between my chest and the fabric. "I have no boobs."
Mom leaned back, looking me up and down. "That's nothing a good push-up can't fix." She grabbed all of the clothes I had tried on (and hated) and slung them over her arm. "How bout you get dressed and we'll go to Victoria Secret and get you one?"
"No thanks."
"Get dressed Cameron." Mom ordered, swinging the door shut behind her. I sighed, pulling off the shirt and dropping it onto the floor by my shoes and then hurrying into the shirt I had come in. Clothes, oh so many clothes…Why couldn't everyone in the word just walk around in uniforms? Then no one would ever have the problem of what to wear. And then I wouldn't have to be loading a stack of crisp, new cologne scented outfits onto a register.
"All done." I sighed. Mom was standing in front of a tired look cashier, with bad acne and a miserable expression. His dark eyes skirted between me and the pile of clothes waiting to be scanned and his pierced lips curled into a smile.
"Did you find every thing okay today?" Both my mom and I answered at same time.
"No."
"Yes."
The cashier nodded, and started scanning the items painfully slowly. He said something about twenty percent off all hoodies and jackets and Mom immediately hurried off to get one. I sighed, when she returned two different jackets in hand in two different colors.
"Which one?" She offered, holding them both up. I studied the two of them, running my index finger along my temple. "White one."
Mom nodded, but dropped the gray jacket onto the register anyways and pushed away the white one. I guess my style of fashion wasn't that reliable. The cashier—Logan according to his nametag—rung up the total. My eyes widened at the numbers, but Mom didn't even flinch. She swiped her card with out batting a lash and grabbed the bags off of the counter.
As we walked out of the dimly lit store and back into the crowded mall I looked down at the clothes in the shopping bag and felt my stomach lurch. One more week until I would be wearing this down the hallways of Roseville High.
Thirty minutes later my new clothes were hung up in my closet, the sun was setting deep behind the branches of the trees lining our street, and my mom and I were bent over Chinese take-out in the living room. Frankenstein's beginning credits were appearing on the TV screen just as Mom asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, "Aren't you excited for Monday?"
I rolled my eyes and nodded, taking a giant bite of my egg roll. It was a lie. I was completely and totally not excited for Monday. Because Monday would be both me and my Mom's first day at Roseville High. I didn't know how most kids would feel about their mother teaching at the same high school they would be attending but I was anything but happy. It would be nothing like at Gallagher. I could feel the same sinking feeling in my stomach that I felt at the mall, weighing down my take-out like an anchor.
"You should tip off my teachers to lay off the homework," I grinned, snatching a noodle off of Mom's plate and dropping it into my mouth. Mom snickered, reaching over to snatch an egg roll off of mine.
"That's a joke, kiddo. If anything I'm going to tell them to double it." She ruffled my hair and I swatted her hand away. Mom laughed and put Frankenstein on mute. She set her cardboard take-out box on the coffee table and crossed her legs under her. In the little light of the TV and in her oversized pajama shorts and t-shirt, it was completely obvious how truly pretty my mother was. She looked young enough to be my sister, and sometimes she even acted like it. She was sure as nosy as one.
"You're not nervous are you Cam? Because, I am! Private school girls I can handle, but a bunch of rowdy teenagers…?" She blew out a gust of air making the stray hairs around her forehead flutter. "No way!"
I shrugged. Mom was one heck of a principle, the students would love her. There was no doubt her principling would be unquestionable (is principling even a verb?). I knew that, and I wanted her to know that so I said, "You'll do great Mom. And just remember, that it's gonna be my first day too, and I'll be going through the same kind of hell as you."
Mom laughed and took another bite of her noodles and rice. "Don't swear kiddo." She grabbed one of my hands in both of her own and added, "Your father would be so proud of you."
I hadn't heard her mention him in a long time. It still hurt, like those stories you hear about people who lose a limb and can still feel where it used to be. Not having Dad was like missing my arm or my leg. I looked down at my plate of fried rice. "Yeah…"
"He would," Mom insisted. "I know he would give anything to see you, all grown up…" her voice cracked and she faltered. I felt my own eyes sting.
"What if I mess up? What have I done to make him proud? People don't notice me, Mom."
She scoffed and wiped her eyes before pulling me in close. I curled up and breathed in her mother-smell— a mixture of perfume, lemons and old books. For a moment, I felt like I was six years old again, lying in my mom's lap as she read me a story, waiting for my Dad to come home from work. I would almost be falling asleep before the door would open and I'd hear his voice calling out to us. Then I would be wide awake, and as tired as he was, Dad would pick me up and swing me around while I laughed. And then, he would listen and embrace Mom as I babbled on about my day, only pausing me to ask me to follow him to the kitchen while he got something to eat.
It was great, until the day Dad didn't come home. And then, all I could remember was the phone call, the panicked look on my mother's face, the shaking head, the whispered, 'No. No, please'. The totaled car. The funeral.
I wasn't six years old, and I didn't fit in my mother's lap anymore. Things were different.
"Cammie," my mom said softly, stroking my hair. "He would be proud at how strong, and smart, and beautiful you've grown up to be. You took all the good things in him, and the good things in me, and you've made it into your own, incredible person. You are everything we could have hoped you'd be, and more. I'm sure your father is looking down on us as happy as he could ever be."
I blinked back tears and hugged her even tighter. "I love you mom." She hugged be back tightly. "I love you too kiddo. Now let's get back. John Boles is waiting."
I pulled back, rolling my eyes and smiling as I wiped my eyes. "He isn't cute, Mom!"
"Yes he is!" I snorted as my mom unmuted the television. We settle down to watch the black and white film.
A few beats of silence passed. Suddenly my mom nudged me. "And people do notice you. Like hottie-neighbor-Zach."
"Mom!"
A/N: Hi, this is hashtagfanfiction's sister, thanking you for sticking through her temporary disappearance from earth. Please R&R, and forgive if any of the writing is different- she and I have way different writing styles, and, like was previously mentioned, I did have to take over a little bit. She'll be back soon though.
Happy New Year's!
