Escaping Truth: Truth Series, Book 1

The sun ripped through my sheer, canary yellow curtains, disturbing my slumber. I sat up stretching and thinking about the weird dream I had last night.

I was standing in an amphitheater filled with screaming and cheering people. I had on a flowing gold flowing corset gown, like from the 1800s, and a sparkling diamond tiara. The people in the crowd were speaking some kind of weird Celtic and French like language, but I knew what they were saying. I contemplated what the dream meant. My best friend Ashley would be able be able to tell me. She studies dream books for fun. She'd probably tell me something like I want to go into a career with power, like politics.

I shook the dream off and got up. I went into the bathroom to commence with my morning rituals. I absolutely love the fact that I have my own personal bathroom. It really came in handy when I had an allergic reaction to my mom's left over seafood last week. I was hugging the bowel all night.

After I took a shower and brushed my teeth, I pulled my hair back into a pony tail and went to find something to wear. I finally decided that a blue tank top, with my favorite khaki pants would do. I grabbed my book bag, slid my feet in my flip flops, and headed down the stairs.

My mom was in the kitchen pretending to cook. Her boy friend Jeff Canton comes over every morning and she pretends to cook for him. She gets up at five in the morning just so she can drive to IHOP and get back in time, so she could get his breakfast ready before he gets here. Of all the extremes, she wins the trophy. I thought honesty was the best policy in a relationship. I thought parents were supposed to be setting a good example. I don't think he would have a problem if she couldn't cook.

"Are you fake and baking again?" I asked her as I stole a piece of turkey bacon. I no longer eat beef and pork and I'm so glad that my mom changed her diet along with me.

"It's not fake, someone made it, it just wasn't me," she sniffed.

I love my mom, but sometimes I wonder how I came from her. We are so completely different. We really don't even look alike. Mom says I look and act a lot like my dad, but she doesn't have any pictures of him. I must get my dark hair and eyes from him because my mom has straight strawberry blond hair and ethereal light blue eyes. They were so pretty, like the color at the bottom of Niagara Falls. My eyes were just plain ol' green. Like I said, nothing in common. Sometimes I think my mom is from a different planet.

Just then, Jeff knocked on the kitchen door.

"Who is it?" my mom asked like she didn't know who it was. I was getting a real kick out of this. I tried to steal another piece of bacon, but she slapped my hand.

"It's me, Jeff," he answered.

"Just a minute babe," she told him.

"Pam, can you please open the door?" he begged. "I have to use your facilities."

This threw off my mom's entire schedule. She wasn't expecting him so early. She hurried to throw all the containers away, as she yelled, "One minute hon." I watched as my mom scrambled around our kitchen cleaning up and hiding the evidence. I will never understand how women can bend over backwards for men that don't deserve it, or don't even notice the trouble they've gone through half of the time.

Finally she let him in. She went in to give him a kiss, but he ran around her to hurry up and make it to the restroom in time. She grimaced in the direction he ran for a second, and then she turned to me.

"So, what are you going to do for your birthday?" she asked walking over to the table where I was sitting and leaned over one of the chairs. My birthday was in a week. If I knew my mom, she was planning an extravagant party. Last year, she closed down a bowling alley and invited all my friends, and some not so friends, to my party. I just wanted a simple cake and ice cream party with my closest friends.

"Mom, the only thing I want to do is hang with Ash and Matt. I don't want anything fancy. Just the guys and my mom," I exclaimed, interrupting anything she was thinking.

"Melonie, this is your eighteenth birthday! It's your coming of age party. I was thinking that we could rent a hall and invite your senior class to come and dress up. I could rent you a limo and we could have everyone wait outside for you entrance like on the T.V. show on MTV." My mother was so excited. She went on and on about this extravagant party and all this mess that I didn't want. When she started talking about seeing if we could get some acrobatics dancers to twirl from the ceiling, I had had enough.