City Girl Gone Rouge

Chapter 1: Leaving

So here I am, sitting at the airport against my will, waiting for my plane to be called.

Now you're probably wondering why. Well, about a month or so before school ended, I pretty much gave up on school, resulting in my grades dropping.

That of coarse, caught my parents attention.

In their own twisted way, they decided a summers worth of hard work will fix this.

And this hard work I speak of, is all located in a very small town in Montana called Alberton. And when I say small, I mean miniscule. It holds a measly number of 417 people living there. Meaning everyone knows everyone. And I'll be the odd ball in town.

You see, I'm going to be living with my Aunt Lacey who just so happens to own a ranch of 147 acres of land. That's the hard work I was talking about.

But here's the thing. I've never even seen my Aunt Lacey.

Ever.

According to my dad, Mommy dearest and her sister haven't ever gotten along.

By getting along, I mean even being able to stand being in the same state, let alone the same house for eighteen years.

I guess that explains why they now both live in states that are a whole country apart.

Another reason to sulk: I've lived in the hustle and bustle state of New York since birth. Now, I'll be living in a small town in the middle of nowhere. I bet they don't even have a movie theater.

"Flight 214 is now boarding. Flight 214 is now boarding," said a woman's monotone voice over the loud speakers.

Heaving a huge sigh, I roughly grabbed my suitcase by its handle and dragged it toward the line that was already beginning to grow in size.

"Samantha Jensen! You aren't even going to say goodbye to your parents," my mother scolded me. I winced.

Rolling my eyes at her comment, I made my way to my dad, swiftly pulling him into a quick hug. Feeling my dad give me a tight but short squeeze, I lifted my head and gave him a soft smile.

I've always been closer to my dad than my mom. Probably because we always fought over every single thing.

You should have heard the fight we had when she told me I was leaving for the summer.

Not pretty.

By now my dad had wisely learned to let us have our squabbles and ignore us the best he could in the process of one.

"I'll miss you Sammi," he mumbled into my hair.

"Me too," I whispered. Quickly pulling away, I made my way to my mother. Pulling her into a similar embrace, I whispered in her ear, "Try not to cook to much while I'm gone, don't want the house burning done in my absence."

My mother was a terrible cook, and she knew it. She could hardly make toast without blowing something up.

Looking up at her, I saw the dry twist of her lips slightly curve upward.

"Whatever you brat," she said, shoving me away. Laughing loudly, I gave her a cheeky grin.

Heading back to where I left my stuff, I called over my shoulder, "Whatever bitch."

Practically hearing her jaw drop, my grin grew even wider.

When my dad's cackling laughter made its way to my ears, I felt like my face would crack.

I'm so awesome with goodbyes.

With the smile still on my face, I handed the lady in charge of collecting our tickets, my, well. . . my ticket.