Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 15 May 15, 2008

By Monday I was smiling again; life seemed a bit brighter. Cadence seemed relieved my random-emotional-over-kill moments were over. So was I. And school seemed good and nearly normal. I was used to it—most of it—now. Except the food. I don’t think anyone could ever get used to that.

I actually backed off Jason a bit. Not in a bad way, though. We were still together. In fact, we were number one on the Best Valentine’s Ever list. Someone had posted a picture of me sobbing as he had handed me the roses. That sort of made me cringe, because I remembered why I had been crying. But it was still sweet. And Jason looked good. We both seemed better. He had given me a ride and not mentioned anything about what we had talked about. Surprisingly, that just added pressure to my obligation to talk to Todd. Which turned out to be an awful experience—no surprise. But I’m getting ahead of myself. And that was probably the understatement of the year.

I was walking to my next class alone and I saw him—alone. He caught my eye and with a bug-eyed sigh, spun around and started walking the other way. That made me agitated and I ran to his side, determined to get it over with.

“Todd,” I said, coming to a slow stop, “We have to talk.”

He scowled at me, looking ready to bite. “About what, Brooke? Your point was clear—and I’ll have you know my jaw was bruised because of it.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s exactly it—why don’t you just grow up?”

He barked a short laugh. “Yeah, look who’s talking? You are such a friggin’ hypocrite, you know that?”

I stared at him, my jaw dropping. “Excuse me? All I said was that we need to talk; not get in some screaming fight.”

“Well, see if I care about your shallow antics! You think cuz you come and say ‘we have to talk’ that makes you the mature one?”

“Mature—you think you are mature? Like, serious?”

“’Like, serious?’” He mimicked, staring icily at me, “You know what Brooke, how ‘bout you go stick your tongue down my brothers throat and get out of my life?”

I stared, an angry laugh slipping into my words, “Now that is real maturity.”

“Do you really think I care? You think you’ve changed; that because you had your perfect life ripped away from you, you are a new person. You’re not. You are the same snotty bimbo who—”

“How can you even stand there and act as if you know me! You don’t—never will. Todd—just leave me alone and GROW UP.” I spun around, giving up and desperate to get to class; to get away. But he made me turn around.

“There you go again; pretending you’re queen of the world! You’re just this Manhattan prep who’s going for Jason because of his money, his style; even his so-called ‘drive’! You are nothing more than a teenage gold digger.”

That was too much. I shoved him back a step, silencing him immediately. “Don’t you dare accuse me! I am no gold digger.”

“Oh yeah?” he screamed, coming back a step closer, “Then what’s his middle name? How about his favorite color? Do you even know what things he likes to do—I mean, except making out with you.”

“You jealous?” I bit, getting in his face, “Todd, I know Jason. So why don’t you save face and shut up.”

He laughed, still screaming, “If what you know of Jason is considered knowing people, no wonder you have such a shallow existence! I bet you couldn’t list five things about him; what he likes or wants. Yeah—you know he’s going to college, you know he’s hot. But you don’t know him.”

Suddenly I was no longer bold. A growing crowd was surrounding us and I just realized it. My cheeks flushed; I was red and steaming. “That’s not true.” I whispered, willing it all to go away. But Todd wasn’t done.

“No, but its okay; he’s doesn’t know you either.” His words were quieter too, but they still cut at me. And I started to cry; silent, hot tears that made my skin flush more. The silence from the crowd was almost deafening. But not as much as Todd’s quiet accusations.

“You two…you don’t care. You just take. He can’t even say he knows you; listens to you—sees you. You guys just use each other. And I guess that works for you, but, just know, there’s nothing there. And one day that’s gonna hurt.”

“Who do you even think you are?” The words were slow and deep. I was angry. “You think you know me better—Jason told me about you; how you don’t even have your own life! And now you’re telling me that you know more about mine than he does; than I do?”

His eyes fell to the floor. I was fuming, my breaths short and tight. I hoped it was over, that I could turn and run; but he spoke. And it hurt.

“Well, I know he can’t see how beautiful you are. No, he see’s the colors and shapes. But he doesn’t know how, when you’re bored, you start to play with the tips of your hair. He doesn’t see that there’s a face you make for every kind of emotion. Your eyebrows sink just to the left when you’re thinking. And, when you smile, your nose sort of crinkles. There’s a dimple on your right cheek that only shows up when you bite your lip. And I know how you like it when your hair falls across your eyes—it means you can finally breathe; you don’t have to put on a face for everyone.” Every word made me blush. It was making me sick. He didn’t even seem to notice. I don’t think he knew there was a crowd around us. His eyes were on me and me alone.

“I know that you want to be held close—even in a dance. You—you look great in teal; it’s your favorite color. I know you’d rather have PB and J’s than caviar or…quail. You want to be more than a rich snob; you want to get out of this stereotype of fashion and…snootiness! You want to go to prom! You wanna climb a tree—wear jeans that cost less than a three digit number. There’s something in your eyes that tells—everyone—that you want to be you; not the rich girl from Manhattan.”

Now I was tired and officially pissed off. “You are a jerk. A total, bitter jerk who thinks he knows everything. But you don’t. And you just proved it.” My voice started to rise; my stance straightened and I was ready to punch something. Preferably him. “How can you think that, for one second, I would ever want to be with someone who thinks he knows me better than I do? I would never want you; you’re just a little boy making guess work about me. You don’t know me. You, Todd, are an absolute as—”

“What’s going on here?”

It was the principal. He pushed himself through the crowd and into the circle where Todd and I stood. People started to talk and the choking silence around us finally stopped. I could breathe. But then Jason pushed his way through, right next to the principal. His eyes were wide and not at all humored.

“Yeah—what is this, Todd?” His voice was almost malicious. And Todd suddenly looked sheepish.

“I—we…were just…talking.” He stuttered, not daring to look anywhere in particular. I snorted, hot tears still falling down my face. Jason wrapped his arms around me and the principal stared sternly about.

“Todd, you just need to grow up.” Jason said, his voice bringing the silence back.

Todd laughed; it was almost a cruel laugh. “Yeah—I’ve heard that a lot today—”

“That’s because you do. I can’t believe…just…go to hell.”

The principal raised his hands to calm the crowd. Even Todd seemed close to tears. But then it turned ugly. His eyes got venomous and he nearly spat at us.

“Oh, just take your whore and have a happy life.”
Those words by themselves would have been shocking enough, but what happened next blew it overboard.

Jason’s arm was suddenly no longer around my shoulders. In a split second, his fist was thrown forcefully into Todd’s face and he was knocked to the ground. Then the principal was grabbing Jason and holding him back, shoving him into the wall of people that now started freaking out. Todd tried to stand, his hand covering his mouth where blood sputtered out.

Chaos ricocheted through the crowd—people were talking, some were laughing, the principal was yelling at everyone and more teachers showed up; half of them wondering where their students were and the other were curious as to what the noise was. One of the teachers helped Todd up, pulling him to the nurses. Jason was carted off by the principal and the crowd was told to get to class. I just stood, more surprised than anyone. I couldn’t move.

Eventually someone told me to get to class—I don’t remember who. But I wasn’t there for long. Soon I got a note calling me to the principal’s. I was surprised to see a cop; they asked me to tell them what had happened. I didn’t really want to. I avoided the topic of conversation and just explained that we had gotten in a fight. They told me I had to go home; that I was suspended for the rest of the day. Some bull crap about how I had impeded on the education and peace of the school. I was forced to call Cadence; some sort of try at an emotional punishment. But I didn’t really care. Home sounded good to me. So Cadence came—I did feel bad though; she had to leave work—and I left. I didn’t know where Jason was or what his punishment was. But I didn’t really care. I still just wanted to disappear. Cadence wouldn’t let me. She asked what had happened and I knew I had to tell her. It took me so long, we were sitting in the garage for a while. And afterwards she just looked at me and then she whistled. Made a joke about how my life was a soap opera. I didn’t find it funny. She got that and let me get out and go inside. But first she told me I would have to make dinner; that she had to work late because of me. I didn’t really mind. I just went inside and lied down, desperate to forget it all.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 9 April 22, 2008

I was reading Vogue with Annie. Well, she was actually laughing at People Magazine; but we were both on the bed. It was late Saturday—hours after I kissed him. He hadn’t called. And I was still tingling. But Annie didn’t bring it up, neither did I. I just pretended to care about the celebrity gossip Annie was telling me about. Of course, once she found I had met the guy twice, she didn’t really care about the gossip. She wanted to know about his arms. But it all seemed sort of forced. And when my phone buzzed, the world seemed to freeze. Annie eyes got wide and she stared at me, mouth opened in mid-sentence. I wanted to roll my eyes and say it wasn’t a big deal. I really wanted to have the self-control to not reach over and grab it half-way through the second ring. But I didn’t. And I grabbed it. It was Cadence.

“Hey, Brooke! Are you with Annie—she isn’t answering her cell.”

I don’t know if I was relieved or heartbroken or annoyed. I just handed the phone to Annie and went back to my magazine. She fell back on the bed and started talking tiredly to her mom about laundry or something. I just flipped aimlessly through the pages, oblivious to things that would have been ripped out and put on my “necessary” list just weeks ago. I didn’t get depressed or even giddy when I saw the new Armani handbag I’d been dying for since Christmas. Melanie had admitted that dad was going to get it in Rome. But then he died. And I don’t think that really hurt my want for the bag. But still, I didn’t seem to care anymore.

Annie tossed the phone next to me when she was done. Automatically I picked it up and slid it open. There was no text—most of Manhattan had forgotten me—but there was a message. And my heart stopped beating.

“Did someone call while you were on?” I asked, trying to play it cool.

She just flipped onto her stomach, pulling the magazine to her face. “I dunno.”

I stared down at the blinking message. The pathetic part was, I didn’t want to touch it. But I did. And I put it to my ear slowly and leaned in to hear it. Annie noticed that I was no longer listening and she looked over at me. I guess I seemed kind of struck because she caught on that someone had called and that I was now listening to something juicy. Her whole face lit up and she crawled closer, biting her lip and giggling. I just waited, listening to my voice machine and waiting for it to jump to the message.

“Hey, uh, this is Jason.” And then his voice laughed. And I couldn’t help but smile. “Wow—this is awkward; not talking to you. Not that I’m talking to you, just…being on the phone and not talking directly.” I could almost see him blushing and it made me blush. Annie just smiled, leaning closer and trying to hear.

“Yeah, well I sound retarded. I’m usually a lot more suave.” Another chuckle. “Just another side-affect to…everything, I guess—but I’ll take it. Dang. I didn’t really call for any reason. I just wanted to hear your voice—I didn’t mean that as psycho as it sounded. Jeez, this message is a mess. Does your voice mail have a delete option? I think I’ll stop now…. Man, you’ve sent me into a tizzy.” A pause. “And I can’t believe I just said that. Kay, well, if you still have any respect for me after this—I hope you do—give me a call.” He breathed out and then laughed softly, “This is harder than I thought. I–…bye.”

And then it was done. And my smile just exploded across my face; I fell on my back laughing.

Annie started squealing and poking me, asking about what he said and what he wanted. But then the garage door went up and she cursed under her breath, jumping from the bed and shouting about some chore she hadn’t finished. I just smiled and smiled and smiled.

And it was weird. I’d never been so…happy. It was like my whole past life went dim to the ‘now’ I was living. I think that’s partly why I laughed. Just weeks ago, if I had met Jason in New York, I wouldn’t have cared. I probably would have given him the same treatment I’d given Todd. Or worse. Especially if he had been as nice as he was. I would have scowled at him—a wrinkle free scowl, mind you—and told him to get out of my way. And even if, just by chance, I had decided to give him a chance, I never would have started to go out with him. My dad had been my man. But if he’d miraculously gotten by that and I had decided to kiss him, it would have been a totally different relationship. I had seen my friend’s relationships. They were never about feelings, they were about material. The girls at my school would fight for the richest, even if they didn’t like him. And the guys liked it. They didn’t try and be nice; they didn’t have to. They’d come in Rolex’s and designer argyle with a hundred dollar hair cut and stand around till a hot girl walked by and then they’d pull out their wallets and ‘flash’ the money. If that didn’t work, they’d start bringing gifts—but not out of love. It was all about lust. In my world, chances were if you could afford a personal suite, you could get a girl in bed. I’d seen girls break up with guys because they wanted what another had. Friends would destroy friends to get the other girls man. If a guy started feeling for another girl, he would drop his girlfriend and go for it—even if it means another world war or the start of a vendetta. If there was ever a place to raise gold-digger’s, it was upper Manhattan. I’d been there. And now, here I was, giggling about a completely embarrassing message and thinking about the guy who had left it. It was kind of…weird.

Here I had spent my life with this one focus, or lack thereof, only to now have it totally changed. My dad had died, but I cried more when I found out I was being forced to Florida because of it. I had met people, seen things, been places that most people only dream of—and I hadn’t cared. I was more awed by a designer’s piece than I was by a sunset in France. Sitting there just made me think how…different I was. Here I was, living in the tiniest house ever built, with two strangers who I just recently met and who were related to me and who served frozen pea’s and fried chicken for dinner. I was going to a public school and sitting on a school bus and washing my clothes in machines. I hadn’t had a manicure in a month, I had lived without starbucks for more than a day and I had kissed a guy who liked me for me; who wanted me just because. It was the total opposite of my past life and I didn’t really care. Well, I missed my fashion shows and my apartment. I definitely missed my cook and New York, but I wasn’t dying. I was a totally different person. For one, I smiled a lot more. I learned how to bite down nasty remarks. I had shared my clothes with Annie. And it hadn’t even been a month. I was still stuck in a hot January, in the sunshine state, with another five ahead of me—with it only getting hotter. But, that phone call, I could take on anything—I felt on top of the world. So I just lay on my bed—cheap paisley and all—and smiled. For the first time, life was actually good.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 2 April 1, 2008

“Listen–as soon as you turn eighteen I’ll be there; not a second late. I promise.”

“You’re always late, Mel.”

She smiled sadly, looking at me as we drove to the airport. I just stared off into the heart of manhattan, ready to die right there. I didn’t want to leave. Six months. In Florida.

“Yeah, well, not this time. Besides, it’s not always my fault.”

As if to illustrate her point, she started yelling at the driver about the fact I was going to miss my plane if he didn’t hurry things up. That sounded like an okay thing to me but I didn’t say anything; just held my starbucks Mocha Frappuccino Blended Coffee and wished I was heading anywhere else. But I wasn’t. Cadence had called every day the last week to make sure I was all set and everything was going as planned; as if I had a choice. She bought the tickets for me; said they were waiting at the airport under my name. I told her I could totally take care of myself; i could even get my jet to come down. She thought that was funny at first. When she realized i was dead serious, she just said no–she wanted to get me here. So there I was, traveling through New York City traffic towards an airport where I actually had to wait in line. All so i could go live with my “mom” down in “Sunshine” Florida. I’m sure the sun was no different there than here, but Cadence made a huge deal about it. I couldn’t really argue; florida was like the only place I’d never been. I had never been to Disney world. Well, I went to Euro Disney last year for my french tour; it wasn’t all that exciting. I much preferred the Paris Fashion Week; I bought a Dior gown and coat. I was wearing the coat that day–I remember. It was a gorgeous trench. But I never had worn the gown. And I highly doubt I’d find a place to wear it in Florida; but I packed it anything. I didn’t leave anything behind. Every perfume bottle, shoe, blouse, pair of jeans, slacks, stockings and piece of jemwelry was coming with me. i made sure of it.

The apartment had been cleared out like no one had ever lived there before. Melanie had found some sort of storage space for it–the safest, most guarded one available. She wouldn’t let me take the paintings and sculptures dad had goteen me through the years; said they’d be here when I came back. but not in my home. It surprised me how fast the memories were packed. They didn’t even haunt the empty halls. I guess it was because most of my memories with dad were made elsewhere. We never really were home. But home was still home–and now I was leaving it all behind. Every high rise, every street corner. they were all staying and I was going.

I remember the day before I had burst into tears as I zipped my final case shut. There was at least five of them. Melanie had them shipped down that night so I wouldn’t have to worry about them all at the airport. I just hoped they’d be there in time. Cadence had this odd idea that I wanted to be going down there; as if I had planned this trip all on my own. every phone call was filled with high-pitched reassurance that it would be the greatest thing–we’d have so much fun. She said even at school I’d have fun. Seemed I did have to finish school and my Ivy-League-inspired private school didn’t have a second in Florida. Shocker. So I’d go to school with Cadence’s other daughter. Yeah. She had another; I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking if it was the masseuses’. She was sixteen and her name was Annie. I didn’t know anyone named Annie. It sounded so…broadway.

When I got to the airport, Melanie had to get to another meeting. So, after a quick kiss on the cheek and a hurried hug, she shoved my Burberry bag in my hands and whispered “good luck” and “text me if you absolutely die”. And then I was alone. And I had to go with the sea of people to the customer service desk. That was a new experience. When I finally got up there, I asked for my tickets only to discover they were coach. I didn’t do coach. I told the lady that and she just looked at me, then moved on to the next customer. I asked for an upgrade but she said there were no available seats. I told her that was bull and she told me she’d call security. So I left.

I got on that plane and shoved myself between some wannabe gangster and dying grandma The kid just kept eyeing me and my tightly-clad legs. I finally asked if he had a problem. He said no, he liked the spicy girls. I just rolled my eyes, put on my designer shades–I think they were my Gucci–and pretended he wasn’t there. It was a long flight. I wish it was longer. Too soon I was off and heading towards my florida exile. I had to switch at the Miami terminal to head to some middle-of-no-where town where the closest airport was thirty miles from my new “home”. That was a distance that made the difference between a prison and a claustrophobic psycho’s ward. It seemed I was heading for the latter. There were only five other people on the plane with me. The flight attendants were in tight blue polyester and looked like they doubled as a Hooters bar waitress. And they played some unheard of hip-hop music (it should remain that way). But it wasn’t till we landed and I squeezed out of that coach-only airplane that I realized exactly how awful it was going to be. The air was warm. And it was wet; I could feel it press against my body. But I could stand that; that was bearable. It was seeing my new “family” that made me want to run. They held a sign, as if they’d mistake me with the rotting men getting off with me. It was an older woman who looked like she’d been frightened of growing old her whole life but had finally given in. Her face echoed of old plastic surgery. The girl next to her was cute enough. Sort of a Wendy’s “it” girl, if there is such a thing. She had red hair and freckles. To give her some credit though, it wasn’t pulled into pigtails. It was held back with a forest green that matched her pants. Well, gauchos–nice, spandexy gaucho’s. As soon as they saw me, they dropped the sign and just stared. I finally walked down to them and pulled off my sunglasses. It suddenly seemed rather hot.

Finally the older woman looked at me, “Brooke?”

I looked around, pulling my burberry back up my arm, and pretended to double check. “Looks like it.”

They thought that was funny. Then she pulled me in my arms and hugged me–really hugged me. I never really got hugs; dad even knew I wasn’t a hug person. She was whispering a whole bunch of stuff in my ear till I finally pushed her away. Then the other girl was in front of me.

“I’m Annie and you are absolutely gorgeous! I never guessed you’d be so pretty–not that I had reason not to. but….Oh, I love your jacket.”

I looked at her, trying to decide if I should stare at the hair or the bright green eyes or the pants. I decided to just put my glasses back on. “Thanks.” I said, “It’s a coat.”

cadence then asked if I had anything else; I said my baggage had been sent down. She laughed and said that’s good to know cuz she wasn’t sure if all that had been mine or if the whole plane had accidentally rerouted their luggage carrier. I didn’t find it that funny.

But I finally got in the car–which cadence actually drove–and Annie felt like she had to sit in the back with me.

“Cool bag. I have one like it. I got it at target for, like twenty bucks. is that real? Mom said NY has all these great street deals for copy’s.”

I could feel my face melt into a despising glare, but I didn’t care. Accusing me of street-corner copies was about as low as you can get. i quickly pointed out the label. She said she’d never heard of it–was it some store? i didn’t bother explaining further, just held it closer.

Other than that it was a silent ride, Annie seemed to catch on real quick that I didn’t rally care for her chatter. And Cadence was too busy watching the endless, deserted road to make conversation. I was fine with that. And I just kept praying that I’d be living in some sort of oasis in this strange, strange part of the world. When we turned down an average suburbia road, I knew I was far from having that prayer answered. there was grass all around. All the houses looked the same and each had their own mailbox. Toys were strewn across the lawn and cheesy christmas decorations still plagued the lawns. We pulled up to own of the more average ones–at least it didn’t have any toys–and I watched as the garage door went up.

I was scared to get out; I kept thinking maybe I was lost. But as Annie opened the door and told me to slide on out–the other door was broken–I knew it was too real. And Cadence pushing the door open and watching nervously as I walked in made it all more real. Annie kind of stumbled in after me, pushing her shoes under a bench and quickly telling me I didn’t have to. Good. Because there was no way I was taking off my wedges to put my feet on that floor.

“Uh,” cadence said, watching as I looked around, “We’re kind of…humble. Not so worried about a clean house as we are about family, right?” She tried to laugh and I slowly pulled my glasses off and pushed them in my bag. The living room was connected to the kitchen and there was no dining room. The TV sat on the floor and was still on. The couch looked like it had seen better days and the windows had plastic blinds on them. A loud air conditioner blew behind me and Annie waited by the stairs, hardly registering my discomfort.

“Your room is by mine; you’re lucky dad and Travis moved out last year, otherwise we’d have to get rid of some of your clothes.”

“What?” I asked a bit loudly.

She just laughed and said it was a joke. Some joke. Then she said she’d show me. So I followed her and I could hear Cadence sigh deeply behind me as I creaked up those stairs. When she opened my new room’s door, I almost ran out screaming. I swear it was smaller than my bathroom had been. It’s walls were a horrid fuschia and the awful paisley bedspread matching with an addition of orange and white would even make martha Stewart gag. The only thin that kept me going in were my five suitcases stacked against a wall. Those clothes needed out. Though I was loathe to place them where I was. A small window took precedence on the farthest wall and a pathetic closet filled the other one. It was about two feet deep. I could hear children laughing outside which was foreign to my ears. I was used to honking, sirens and whistles.

Annie just smiled at me, standing awkwardly in the door. I looked at her.

“Well,” she said, slightly picking up on my angry stare, “I’ll leave you to get settled. Mom said I shouldn’t bother you too much–we do after all have school together in two days. We’re still on Winter break!”

The suffocating heat made it impossible for my brain to register that statement. I just collapsed onto the stiff bed with a whine as soon as my door shut. I dropped my bag to the floor, suddenly not caring about the probable dust mites. I just let my hair fall out of its tight ponytail and stared at the ceiling.

“Well, we’re not in kansas. Though we’re probably close.” I whispered to no one. This was going to be a long six months. Very long.

Good Morning, Sunshine March 31, 2008

I was born in upper manhattan; I was one of those private school snobs who had not only a car but a driver and whose school lunch was catered by a five star bistro. It was the high life and I enjoyed it. I loved the parties, the designer closets; I could even deal with fake friends–as long as I was the hottest. Life was good. I had a whole suite to myself–my father lived a floor down. He was single; mom had ran off with some private masseuse after I was born, or so the story goes. I didn’t really ever care. If I could buy a dress just for kicks, not worry about credit cards or school and have a maid who doubled as a medi/pedi genius, I was good. But, just to clarify, I wasn’t the snobbiest of the snobs. I actually called my dad, dad. I smiled at strangers and recognized the existence of my cook and maid. I was actually one of the strangest of my friends. And acquaintances. Dad and I were even close. Every saturday he wasn’t out of the country, we’d have breakfast together. I remember once he was in California and had a jet sent over for me. He never missed it as long as we were in the US of A. And it was fun; sometimes even inexpensive. We didn’t have to go to the classiest restaurant or the finest of the fine. I could deal with Denny’s if it was with my dad. I really did love him. I didn’t have a boyfriend because none of them could measure up to him. He was fine with that; said boyfriends were overrated. Life was good for me and I was happy with every bit of it. Then the accident happened.

I can still remember my dad’s secretaries voice over the phone. It was quiet. And Melanie was never quiet. It was at school and the first time I didn’t answer. But by the second call I knew it was important. And I answered. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t; maybe then he would have been at home waiting for me. But I answered. And Melanie said there had been in an accident in Rome; a car accident. I remember asking if he was okay; if I could talk to him. That’s when she started crying. “He didn’t make it.” was all she said. That’s when I dropped the phone and slid down the wall. That was the first time in my perfect life I’d ever really cried. It hurt. And I soon discovered it wouldn’t be the last of the pain or even the least.

Somehow I got home and I just sat on my bed, completely stunned and suddenly alone. There was no one who cared. When friends texted asking where I was and I told them, the messages would stop. Well, one kid asked if I could still make it to a party. I didn’t answer. Instead I threw my phone against the door, curled up in a ball, and cried. That week passed in a blur; the funeral plans were arranged by Melanie, my school excused me thanks to Melanie and it was melanie who left me be. I could take are of myself. I didn’t eat and I hardly slept, but I could have if I wanted. It just hurt too much. It was that saturday that killed. I woke to the preset alarm only to remember breakfast would not be happening; the funeral had been yesterday. He was gone; he was buried and gone. That was the day I had to go over the will. So I actually got dressed and answered the door. melanie was there with two other dull looking people. It was silent as they pulled out papers and Melanie just sat beside me, holding my hand.

The money was all left to me; I got the company shares and the private jet. All the personal items belonged to me; everyhting was given to me. Except my house. That’s when confusion really set in. The hotel would not accept a suite to be paid for by a minor, even if I could afford it.

“What? Are you friggin kidding me?” I asked, totally annoyed. This was my house–I had lived here my whole life. Melanie tried to shush me and the two stiffs fidgeted uncomfortably.

“No–No, I assure you we hardly…kid. Uh, yes, it says right here-the home is not yours; it could not be placed int he will for your age.”

“I’ll be eighteen in june! That’s six months from now! I pretty much live on my own anyway!”

They once again stared at me, their eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “That may be true,” they mumbled, “But until then; until you become an adult, I’m afraid legal requirements make it impossible to live alone. You need an adult–”

“That will be me.” Melanie said, wrapping her arm around me. I always did like Melanie. But the stiffs just shook their head.

“No-no, sorry Ms. That’s not what it say here. A guardian was named in this instance and, unless you are a Miss Jamie Varsden–”

“That’s impossible.” i said, really getting annoyed. “That was my grandmother. She died almost ten years ago.”

“Are you sure?” one of them finally mumbled, searching through their papers as if for proof. I just nodded my head, ready to pummel one of them.

“Right. Well, then, by legal law, if a guardian is unnamed or unfit to take guardianship as is the case, it seems, here, we fall to the next relative.”

I just scoffed, my head rubbing my temples. Melanie just leaed closer, as angry as I. She was the closest family I had.

“Listen–that may be the usual case, but Brooke doesn’t have any family; I am the closest thing and we were so sure she would stay with me.”

“No–no; It specifies right here, written by the father’s hand, she is to stay with a family member.”

Melanie and I were both shocked. “When was this written?” she asked incredulously.

“Uh…twelve years ago. To this very day, in fact.”

“Whatever–he didn’t know me then! Obviously the wants have changed. He even told me once that–”

“Now, let me explain something to you both. I am just here to make sure a man’s legal wishes and obligations are fulfilled. This is what he wrote, signed and agreed to! If he wished to changed it, he very well could have. Now this is what there is, and there is no changing it! By law, this is how it must lay out. Is there a family member? An aunt, uncle…mother.”

I looked at Melanie helplessly. “He was an only child, I don’t think anyone’s alive on his side. And….”

Melanie sighed, placing her hands on her lap and staring at the two others. “There is no family, there is no ties. It would then, legally, fall to some other person to care for her for these next six months. A voluteer, maybe. And that, I assure you, will be me. I’m the closest emotional tie she has!”

The man looked at her, “If there were no ther possible family ties, that would be the case. But surely he wouldn’t place such specific requirements if he was just relying on a grandmother. Is there someone on the mother’s side?”

Melanie was now past aggravation. “She doesn’t know her mother! her mother walked out on her and its highly doubtful she’d accept her into her selfish life now! Brooke had n one but her father and me; now, just me!”

“No–if there is a mother we will have to summon her and see if he agrees.

“But she won’t! We don’t even know where she lives or what her position is like. She could be living in alaska with some pack of starving children! She is hardly fit to care for Brooke!”

I just stared, completely in shock at what was happening. My mother? I didn’t think so. father would never be that cruel to mean for it to happen this way. Melanie was right.

“Don’t I get a say in any of this?” The two men looked at me, as if surprised to realize I was present. And they both answered with a quick no.

“If the mother says No, you will certainly be more apt to receive custody.” Melanie sat back down. “But if she agrees, the child must live with the mother.”

“What?” we both screamed. I didn’t know where that was, but I knew it wasn’t Manhattan. “You have got to be kidding me.”

They seemed tired of that question because they just rolled their eyes, snapped their cases shut and said they’d be in touch. Melanie just sat with me, as surprised as I.

“This will be alright; your mother ill obviously say no–she couldn’t handle it if she wanted. You’ll stay with me, you’ll see. We can even stay here if you’d like.”

‘Isn’t that like way above you non-existent pay grade?”

She smiled, “Well, you’d be paying. You know you have enough. God, I never knew he had so much!”

I laughed and fell onto her lap. “Yeah-I’d so rather pay the bills than go meet mom. What’s her name anyway?”

“It’s Cadence; Cadence Manes.”

“How awful–I hope I never ever have to say that. Way worse than Melanie.”

She just laughed. But I cried. I never knew I could not want a mom so much.

Melanie stayed as long as she could–which was about half an hour–then she had to run to a job interview. That left me in a house which was no longer my house, filled with things that it would no longer be filled with and memories that would not leave me be. Deep down inside I knew I was about to be taken away; it was bound to happen. I don’t think even my mother would have the guts to say no to a practically orphaned child. She must feel guilty or something; something would make her desperate enough to say yes and I’d be taken far, far away. I could feel it. I just didn’t realize how far it really would be.

The call came the next wednesday. melanie had ordered me some food, but had had to run out again. But I answered and a timid voice was on the other line. She asked if Brooke was there. I said this was her. The woman just gasped and I could feel her get all emotional on the other line. “You sound so grown-up.” she whispered. That’s when I knew it was her. I said, “Well it has been what, nearly eighteen years since you left? I hope I sound a bit different.” I was surprisingly angry. I’d never really cared about my mom, but i guess something in side me cared enough to want to scream.

It was silent on the other line for a few seconds. then, “I am sorry. I never meant–”

“Save it.” i said, but I didn’t hang up. When she realized that, she continued, “I heard about your dad. And the will. Quite a surprise, huh?”

“You mean my dad dying or the will?” I spit it out, her voice making me more and more angry. She didn’t answer.

“But, uh, I guess you’ll be coming and living with me. Down here.” Suddenly I wasn’t mad; i was scared.

“Where is that?” I whispered, my heart beating madly.

“Oh–you’ll love it! Florida!”

My heart nearly stopped. “What?” I asked, never realizing it could be so far.

“Florida, you know, the sunshine state.”

Holy help-me’s filled my mind, soul and prayers. I suddenly wanted to crawl in a hole and die. It seemed like that was where I was heading anyway. Florida! Kill me, please.

– to be continued –