When You're In Love with a girl

Chapter 1, Oh No New York

OH NO NEW YORK

My dad gives us the news when he gets home.

"Fam," he says, because he's a cool American dad who is in with the slang. The whole family is gathered at the dining table. We have sitting order around the table down pat. Mom always sits back to the kitchen, I always sit to the left of her, Sam sits to the left of me, and Dad, in the high chair. Just kidding. We just call it the high chair because it's the fanciest, most comfortable chair.

Dad opens his mouth, pauses, smiles nervously, then says, "We're going to have to move to New York."

Chaos reigns.

Sam slaps the table. "What the heck, Dad? You know we have school champs coming up soon, right?"

"I know how important football is to you, Sam, but this move is such a great opportunity. The company wants me to work connections in New York, where they need a better outreach after I've worked so successfully in Wisconsin."

New York seems so... so far away from Madison, where we live. Madison may be considered a small town by some, but to me Madison is like a bustling, full-out metropolis. We live in the suburbs where it starts to get very rural.

I've never been to New York, but I bet it's like Chicago. We go there sometimes for weekend trips. I hate it, honestly. Smokers, homeless, gangs, on the streets, and full of dirt. Maybe some tall buildings and ancient architecturey stuff, but I'm not into it. I much prefer the homey suburbs. And country—I always do love the barns and farms and animals. If Dad had said we were moving to Montana, honestly I'd be happier. But New York? For all the supposed culture and being one of the top cities in the world? I'm really not too attracted.

"New York is a bigger jump than Madison," notes Mom, swirling her perfect blond curls. Mom is an influencer on YouTube and constantly vlogs her life. In fact, her camera is rolling right now, filming our dinner. Every night she uploads a video of the "Gemney Days!" It's so stupid, and honestly, it's embarrassing.

When we used to live in Chicago, it was cool because at the preppy elementary school I went to, everyone's parents were rich and famous, so I didn't stand out. But then Grandma's health began to fail and we moved to Madison, where Grandma lived, to take care of her at the end of her life. Grandma died when I was ten.

Mom tries to be bright and cheerful, especially in front of her camera, but I know sometimes she still cries alone in her room because I hear her, wracking sobs and my dad trying to console her. In Madison, though, that my mother is a celebrity is considered weird. I'm Marley Gemney's daughter, daughter of an online celebrity....

Even though I've been at Greenheimer, my relatively small public school for four years, everyone still knows me as that stuck-up celebrity's daughter.

Even teachers subjected me to this treatment. "Hello class, I am Mr. Schleinfeld," I remember my 7th grade teacher saying. "We will start from the first row and work our way to the back of the room left to right. Everyone, introduce yourself, give your name and a cool fact about yourself."

Everyone said their respective names and cool fact but when it was my turn my classmates started whispering. "She thinks she's so stuck up," I heard one girl, the mean popular girl at the time, say. "Her mom is such an airhead." "Her mom may be pretty but she is a total yuck."

When I speak sometimes I rasp; I don't know why. I rasped then. "I'm," I started but then had to clear my throat, "my name, my name is Alie. Gemney... Alie Gemney."

Then the whole class started to laugh because my mother is always so smooth speaking on camera. Her vlogs are like a honey-coated, buttered version of her life.

"Why don't you ever appear on Gemney Days?" asks one boy, one of those boys all the girls swoon under. White blond hair and ice blue eyes like the Vikings. I don't remember his name, but for sure he wasn't my friend.

It's awkward, I guess. My interests are reading, art, and music—not exactly conducive to a vlog with populist appeal.

Sometimes I feel like the odd one out in our family. My dad has his work, but he's really not too hardworking. He slacks a bunch and goes in late to his office but he can do that because he's old pals with his boss. My own dad disgusts me.

My mom seems shallow to me too sometimes, with her vain vlogs and self-centered manner that she puts on for the camera.

And Sam? Sam is such an all-American. He wants to play for the NFL when he grows up, and I don't doubt he will make it. He is such an airhead sometimes. Football is the only thing in his mind and the only reason he has not failed school yet is because he is the best footballer of his age in all of Wisconsin.

I am just me, I suppose. Studious, introspective me. In any other family, it would be okay, but in my own family I feel like an island unto myself.

Back to the conversation that Dad started that day after work. "When would we have to move?" I ask.

Dad takes a ginormous bite of his beef and swigs it down with apple juice, swallows, and says, "Two weeks. We have to settle exactly the school stuff and final details about the apartment but it's for sure. We're moving to New York in two weeks." 

Author's Note: Tara here. Thank you so much for reading my first book.

 I promise, it gets even more interesting in the coming chapters....

Any comments on the story—constructive criticism or just comments are well appreciated! I do take the time to read and respond to all comments. 

If you enjoyed, please remember to vote. It will help the story be seen by more people in Wattpad's algorithm. 

-Tara G