Beneath the Crowd *EDITING*

Beneath the Crowd - 1

“I’m home Mother, what do you need?” I mutter as I enter the kitchen.

             “I will not beat around the bush, and you will not question my decisions, is that clear?” Mother explains.

             “Yes Mother, like always.” I sigh and throw my bag on the wooden chair beside me.

             “We’re moving. Your father and I decided this morning after the neighbour made a comment about our ‘youth’. Do you understand what that means?”

             “Yes, Mother,” I nod.

             “What?” She asks.

Mother and I never get along. If it wasn’t for my dad, I’d probably be in an orphanage. My mother hated me since birth, and never explained why. She loves children, I mean; she runs a daycare down the street, but with me it’s a different story. She told me to call her by her real name, Elissa, but Dad talked to her, and now I can only speak to her with formalities, ask to use almost everything in the house, and only call her Mother. Bitch.

             “Did you ask to use that chair, Shadow?” She asks, hands on her hips.

             “No Mother, I did not, sorry.” I admit. Usually dad is here when I get home from school since mother is at the daycare until 5, so we usually do whatever we want.

             “I didn’t think you did. Now tell me what that means.” She demands as she makes a waving motion toward my bag, and I slide it off the chair and onto the floor.

             “It means they’re questioning your ageless beauty.” I answer.

             “Good, now go pack. Your father is dealing with the daycare and will be back soon. We’re leaving then, whether you are ready or not.” Mother dismisses.

Dad was slowly backing out of the driveway stalling for time when I burst out of the front door, two large duffle bags bouncing along with me, throwing my balance off. I stumble along the driveway and trip on the car tire, face planting against the hot tar driveway.

             I outstretch both my arms like I’m about to do a push up to balance my weight, but that only results in getting my hand run over… slowly.

             I howl in pain and lift my injured hand, falling over my side and the weight of the duffle bag tips me over. Holy Derp, what else can go wrong?

             “Dad, will you stop driving and help me up!” I yell and the car comes to a sudden halt. Not for me though, I realize and I slowly stand up, but just to look both ways before turning down the street.

I balance my weight properly and run after the car, finally catching up at the stop sign. I try to open the backseat door only to find out it’s locked. I press my face against the tinted window to see the back seat stuffed with Mother’s crap, of course.

             I knock on the driver’s window twice and Dad rolls down it down only to throw out a gum wrapper and quickly roll it up again. However know dad, there were probably directions to the new place.

             I take out my phone and text him thanks, then call for a cab.