London Fog | school hiatus

Ch. 1

The first sound I heard when I woke up was the sound of my mother knocking lightly on my door. I opened my eyes, rolling over in my bed, wrapping my legs further in the mess that was my comforter. I did not want to talk to her right now. My flight was at three and I had committed thus far; I didn’t need her talking me out of this, not when I was this close.

I had lived with my parents throughout all of my college years. See, I had earned the top level of the TOPS program at my high school, graduating with a four-point oh and a 30 on my ACT, granting me a free-ride through college, provided that I maintain a 3.8 GPA. The best part was that they paid me to go to their college. I hadn’t left home, so I had gotten a job per the requirement of living with my parents whilst attending school. I hadn’t rented an apartment so I had money saved from that, and almost all of my earnings from my job. Not to mention that shortly after graduating three weeks ago, the novel I had written was published, making me a best selling author and raking in tons of money. Enough for me to buy a house right outside of London, where I had wanted to live for a while now.

“Come in,” I croaked, my voice still thick with sleep. I needed a glass of water.

“Hey, honey,” my mother cooed. “I just wanted to let you know that if you get cold feet and want to stay here for a while longer--”

“Mom. I was supposed to move out at eighteen, like all the other normal people. I need to do this. What could possibly go wrong?” I hope I didn’t just jinx myself.

“Well, I was just saying, I mean...” she trailed off, a hurt expression crossing her face.

I got out of bed, stretching my legs. I walked over to my mother, wrapping her in a hug. I was the one leaving, why was she acting so weird? I wasn’t going to be the last to move out; she’d have much more fun and adventures with Hardin, my brother who was going on twenty-nine this year. I felt her tears soaking through my shirt, her body shaking softly into mine. I put my head on hers, which was easy as I was about three inches taller than she was. I rubbed her back, silently praying that she would leave soon. It’s not that I didn’t love my family, it’s just that my family is very hard to love. I was awkward and quiet, spending my afternoons either studying or writing in my room, while the other three of them (Dad, Mom, and Hardin. Halley and Isabelle had moved out before me.), bustled around the house, always making noise. It was very much time for me to spread my wings and fly, as goes the saying.

“Mom,” I said gently, not wanting to hurt her anymore. “I need to get dressed,” I reminded her.

In an instant, she was out of my arms, wiping her eyes and muttering apologies under her breath. She power-walked out of my room, hustling down the stairs, probably hoping to get another load of laundry in the washer before we left for the airport.

I looked at the outfit I had planned for today, soaking in how empty my bedroom was with all of my clothes in one suitcase or another. That’s all I had really, clothes. I mean, I did own trophies and other knick-knacks, but those were stored in the attic. I took my outfit and my brush and headed into the bathroom to change and maybe look okay for the day. Maybe.

After I finished applying mascara, I looked at myself from the body-mirror in the bathroom. I had on my favorite shirt, it was a purple v-neck, paired with my dark jean-shorts and white Keds. I didn’t wear any jewelry, thinking ahead to the metal-detectors. I ran my fingers through my hair one more time, weaving them through my mop of brown hair. It went down to about mid-ribcage, waving slightly. My hair was my best feature, according to me, at least. My mom had said my eyes were just beautiful, while almost every store clerk I had ever spoken to commented on my freckles. I hated my freckles. I either didn’t have enough or had much too many, though I had never decided which it was.