I Forgive, I Don't Forget

Chapter One: The First Day

"Avie, are you ready?"

I wasn't. I was still laying on my bed with a pillow shielding my eyes from the sunlight. That's my routine. The sun trickles in through my blinds just a few minutes before my 6am alarm goes off, a vestige of my short-lived determination to become a morning person. I hit snooze, of course,  close my eyes and fall into a state reminiscent of sleep before my mom startles me awake. 

"I really don't feel well."

"Oh stop it! You can't play hooky on the first day." She gives me a questioning look. She knows I'm faking. 

It's not that I've never been sick--I've been sick plenty of times. I always wake up just a little congested in the morning because of the ridiculous amount of dust covering forgotten surfaces in our old house. The fact that it's old really isn't the problem--it's the dusty old horse racing track across the street. But regardless of the unfortunate location of my home and my chronic congestion, I drag myself to school without fail every morning, so as not to miss out on important lessons and gossip. But, today--after the summer I've had, I desperately wanted to bury my face in my covers and go back to sleep. 

"Why not? I won't be missing out on anything." You know the deal. The first day is always filled with all the new teachers asking everyone about their same old summers. There's not much the rural suburbia has to offer, after all. We have beaches and farmland, so summer consists of bonfires, underaged drinking, and prowling the streets of a nearby resort town. Only a select few even make it out of the town let alone the state. The well-seasoned educators already know this, so they don't even bother with the small-talk .

I could hear the sound of my mother's heels pounding up the steps as she approached my room, so I hopped out of bed and stood in front of my open wardrobe to give the semblance of productivity. 

My mother, of course, saw through this. I very rarely consulted my wardrobe for clothes.It was half-empty, so I instead chose my garb for the day from the various piles of clothes scattered about the room: on my desk chair, bed, and floor. 

When she finally reaches my room, she swings open the door and just glares at me. 

Within 25 minutes I'm in the school parking lot, pouting in the front seat. I try my best puppy dog face, my bottom lip jutting out, looking as if I was soon to cry.

But any further attempt at guilting my mom into letting me go home is forgotten at the sight of my best friend skipping towards my side of the car. Mom gives me a few words of encouragement as I hastily open the car door and stand up waiting for my bear hug.

"Bye mom, love you!" I turn around giving her a quick hug and peck on the cheek.

"Anne! I missed you!" Sadie squeals, being the bouncing ball of excitement she always is.  She always calls me by my middle name because she thinks it's cute. I don't really see it. I like Avery. It's a brand of notebooks, and I love stationary so it's quite fitting. Regardless, I let Sadie call me Anne because I'd never met anyone who cared enough about me to want to give me a nickname.  She squeezes me as tight as she can and I feel like I'm suffocating, but I don't mind. 

"Sade...can't...breathe," I inform her in between breaths as the hugging became too excessive. She lets go, allowing me to take a breather before hugging me again.

"Did I tell you I missed you?" She exclaims.

"How was Europe?" Sadie was one of the few exceptions to the summer rule I mentioned earlier. Although we had similar early years--both raised by strong-willed single mothers, we now had wildly different lives.  Her mom had remarried a generous man who funded any exhibition or project that Sadie desired. My mother remained single after my father ditched us and instead went back to school to earn a degree to support me. 

"It was okay, I should have come, it would've been so much better. You know you could've come right? All I had to do was ask my dad for another ticket and you would've been there too."

"I know, but I couldn't handle the guilt." All of that money could go to my college fund or the down payment on that Mini Cooper I've always wanted.  

"He's got the money, he wouldn't care." 

"I know. But, still." Money was always an uncomfortable topic for me around Sadie. She and her family would always offer help in any way they could, but for me it just felt awkward. My mom and I had enough. We weren't necessarily thriving, but we had a little room in the budget. 

"Well, let's get off this subject. On to something more serious. Jonas." She says his name in a way that makes me think it tastes bad in her mouth.

"I don't want to talk about him. I don't even want to see him. Mom wouldn't let me ditch school though." 

"Hey, it'll be okay. I doubt he'll even be here. You kno-" But at that exact moment he pulls up in his car and parks in the spot my mother just backed out of. 

In no way was it okay.

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So yep. That's it for this chapter. Tell me what you think. So I'm kind of hoping for atleast one vote or comment but, I'm not going to pressure you or anything.

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