Thank you so much for all of the reveiws! I had no idea that this story would be so popular. I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter.
"Mom!" I yelled wading through the piles of unpacked boxes that had claimed most of the space in our tiny apartment, and from the looks of things we wouldn't be unpacking any time in the near future. I'm sure some people start unpacking their belongings the day that they move into their new place. I'm also sure that those people are planning on staying in the house, apartment, trailer, or whatever they're living in for more than a few months. And (just to sweeten the deal) I'm willing to bet that the family doesn't consist of a single mother and her teenage daughter.
"Ma-maaaa!" I practically screeched when she didn't answer me. I've found that the more syllables there are in a word the faster the other person responds. Case in point as soon as I shut my mouth I heard my mom's voice coming from the kitchen. I didn't quite understand what she said but it sounded like, 'I'm in the kitchen darling'. Normal? Oh no not in this family. I don't mean to be harsh but my mom was never meant to have kids, she acts like an older sister with maternal instincts. Well maternal instincts that kinda suck at times. And she never, never, calls me darling, or honey, or even sweetie, we're talking developmental scarring here. Since we're on the topic of my mom scarring me for life (this ties in with the never meant to be a mom thing) she referred to me as 'the best mistake she ever made' until I was seven and asked her what she meant…and she still wonders why I'm so messed up.
There was only one way that my mom would ever call me darling and I knew what that meant - company. It also meant that I'd have to make polite yet stilted conversation with one or more of my mom's friends who generally ranged from uptight business women (reason number three that my mother shouldn't be a mom, she's a well off and totally focused on her carrier-not-so-much-her-kid business woman) to 'her latest projects' (druggies and strippers she was helping to get off the streets). Therefore exposing me to all the different people that I do not want to be like when I grow up, thanks Mom thanks a lot.
As I neared our tiny kitchen I heard polite small talk drifting through the apartment, so it was business today. Interestingly enough Mom had been on the phone constantly for the past few days, maybe she was finally meeting with a client or something.
As I had suspected two women in business suits were sitting at our little wooden kitchen table (the cheap kind that are supposed to look expensive, it came with the apartment) with a mug of coffee each. The brunette, who looked ready to fall asleep, was my mom (I swear she could use some hibernation time). Though it looked as if she hadn't slept in days she still managed to look presentable, if I was in her place I'd probably be in sweats, with out make-up, and I definitely wouldn't have bothered to brush my hair. I guess I won't be following in my mother's footsteps, that's alright I'm not even completely sure what she does for a living.
The other brunette was small, perky, and she seemed to be a little high on coffee, although maybe she always talked extremely fast and in a high pitched voice. Regardless of her mental state at the moment she was holding up a flier with a house printed on half the page and the number of bathrooms and bedrooms printed on the other half.
"Nowthishouseismoreinthepricerangeyouweretalkingabout. Itcomescompletewithgranitecountertopsinthekitchenandthreelargebedrooms. It'sjustwhatyourlookingfor." She rambled on for a few more minutes about God knows what (I know I didn't have a clue what she was saying) until I decided to subtly hint that I had no idea what was going on.
"Uh mom…? Who is this?" Alright subtlety really isn't my strong point, but at least I'd get some answers now. My mom turned towards with this huge (and slightly unhinged looking) smile on her face and knew this couldn't be good.
"Honey, this is Mary, she's a real estate agent. And I know this is a big step for us, but I think we can handle it." She said still smiling. I don't know what she was expecting me to do but judging by the way her face fell, just standing there wasn't it. In my defense though I thought she was trying to tell me that she was pregnant or something, but I didn't know what a real estate agent had to do with that. Unless we had to move to a bigger house because of the baby, that made sense. Honestly though what was she thinking having another child? The poor girl (or boy I suppose) would probably end up wearing any of my old baby clothes (which would totally suck if it was a boy) that my mom still owned.
"My God what were you thinking Mom?" I exploded, she was old enough to know that she couldn't handle another kid. And just when had she found time to uh…make…this kid anyway? Who had she found?
"Well I thought the extra room would be nice…You know since we'll be here for a while." Her voice was small and scared sounding, I might have thought that was pretty cool (how often do you get the chance to scare your mom like that? Especially when you're a good little rule abiding daughter like me) if I wasn't complete distracted by my new sibling's peril.
"Well are you even gonna marry the guy?" I asked, the baby at least deserved to have a father.
"What? Gabriella Maria Margarita Montez what on earth are talking about?" Ah the dreaded double middle name, just another reason to add to the list of factors messing up my life. And that's right people my initials are G.M.M.M, I'm seriously considering losing one of my middle names when I turn eighteen. Probably Margarita would be the one to go, I know it's Spanish and everything but here in America it's an alcoholic drink (a fact I'm sure my parents were completely aware of when they named me).
"So…I take it your not…pregnant…" I laughed nervously as my mother let out a string of Spanish curse words and Mary blushed from her roots to her neck, pregnancy obviously wasn't her thing. Or mine, which is why I escaped to my room with a muttered apology and a thumbs up to Mary about the picture of the house she was still holding.
I suppose you can tell by now that I have an over active imagination, it makes for some pretty interesting dreams but it also convinces me of the strangest things. Like for example that my mom was pregnant, obviously she learned her lesson with me.
I hadn't been sitting in my room for very long when my phone rang, I scrambled over my mattress and various boxes (if we really were moving then it was a good thing I hadn't unpacked yet) to get to it. When your room is boxed up and the walls are white a person can get bored very quickly, any calls, prank or otherwise were appreciated. I spent an hour talking to a some guy trying to sell me some skin care product once (I never want to talk so much about clogged pores again, eww but I was desperate) .
"Hello?" I've been trying to think of a new way to answer the phone, I mean really 'Hello?' can you say cliché, but I honestly can't think of anything that doesn't sound stupid or tacky.
"Hi, this is Troy. Remember me?" Remember him? How do you forget the source of your deepest loathing? I mean, I'm sure he's a lovely person on the inside, but since I CAN'T FIGURE HIM OUT, I wouldn't know. How could he sound so casual? I was sure that I would never understand this guy.
"How do you know my number?" Oh yeah, way to be smooth Gabriella, way to be smooth.
"Phonebook. Look my test thing might be screwed up but are we a match?" I almost snorted, what was he saying? I was you know…me, and he was Troy Bolton star of the basketball team (I'd done some research), were we a match? You can do the math, but I didn't have to.
"Well I mean technically we are but I don't really-"
"Great, maybe we should meet somewhere. How does coffee sound?" He cut me off , I was trying to give him a polite refusal and he cut me off. See if I'm ever polite to him again. I was so miffed that I didn't process what he was saying for a few seconds.
"Are you on drugs?!" I nearly yelled at him. I knew him but I didn't know him that well, he could be a rapist or, or well maybe that was my wild and crazy imagination going off on a stroll through wild and crazy lane again. But seriously did he think I was going to accept?
"Ummm…no. So I guess I'll just see you around then?"
"I doubt it but you know maybe." I didn't want to be too hard on the guy, he was obviously delusional as it was. Maybe that's why I couldn't understand him, because he was crazier than I was.
"Gabriella!" My mom's voice came through the phone's speakers after Troy had hung up the phone, "Why were you so mean to that poor boy?"
"Hey mom ever heard of privacy? Would you please respect my personal space?" We had these arguments from time to time, as I said she was closer to an older sibling than an actual mom.
"Privacy? I changed your diapers and bathed you as a baby! You know nothing about privacy. Oh and dinner's ready I need you to come to the kitchen." You see we didn't even argue normally. I hung up and walked the three or so feet to the kitchen, and the heavenly smell of burnt macaroni and cheese smacked into me like a brick wall. Mom's not exactly the best cook either.
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