Spring: Sophomore Year
CHAPTER 1
I woke up to a loud slamming of a sliding door and people throwing things, and what I thought was a kind hand rubbing my head to wake me up. “Sweetie, we’re here. We’re finally here. Can you help bring some boxes inside the house?” The voice sounded familiar, and as I rubbed my mascara smeared eyes from sleeping I realized that my mom was the one talking to me, and rubbing my head. Thank goodness, if she was actually one of those sweating,creepy moving guys I have no idea what I would have done, other than scream. “Sure mom, no problem. Just give me a minute to fully wakeup.” I said while getting out of our silver lexus and stretching. “Okay sweetie, I’ll just be helping....” I just zoned her out after she started saying the names of the moving guys, I really didn’t need to know there names. After I finished stretching and checking my face and hair, I went to the back of the moving truck and started to take boxes to our new home. Though it wasn’t huge, it was still my dream home, it was gorgeous. It had the New England looking siding to it, a huge wrap around porch, and a couple of porch swings where my mom and I could have our when needed girl talks.
Our new home was nothing like our apartment in New York City. For one thing it was actually a home and second, we didn’t have any twenty something couples banging the life out of each other every Friday and Saturday night after clubbing. I still can’t get the banging of their bed out of my mind, sadly my room was always right next to their chosen fornicating location. My mom and I had to move because she was once married to my biological dad, but he had a really bad drinking problem and it ruined our lives, so we moved to little old upstate Connecticut to get away from him. Luckily my mom met the greatest guy ever named Luke, who has taken care of us ever since I could remember. Thank goodness I have a smart mom, because we where moving in with that great man. She said yes to his beach front proposal and they were married June 14 2008, or other wise known as Flag Day. Luke lived in Mystic, a small water front town that was just the new type of atmisphere that my mom and I needed after dealing with my biological dad.
As I was walking towards our gorgeous new house, I felt a manly hand on my shoulder. A normal 16 girl would be freaked out over her mind because she would think that it was one of those sketchy mover guys but I knew that touch, I’ve felt that fatherly touch before, I’ve seen the shine of that wedding band before. The whole thing seemed to happen it slow motion. I dropped the boxes I was holding and luckily they where pillows and bed stuff or else they would have been destroyed. I turned my head, then my whole body, and right in front of me was Luke smiling from ear to ear. I gave him the hugest hug that I think I’ve ever given him before, and he did the same while picking me up off of the ground and spinning me like a 5 year old. He kissed me on the cheek and set me down, “How are you sweetie?” he said. “I’m okay, I was woken up from all the banging of moving truck doors and such, but I’m a lot better now!” I said with a huge smile on my face, and I pretty much knocked over Luke with another huge hug. “Well these boxes won’t bring themselves into your new home” Luke said with a huge smile. “So I already but most of your bedroom stuff in your new room, you just have to bring up your other bedroom stuff, your mom and I will do the rest with the help of the movers.” He said after ruffling my hair. So I did what he told me to do. The boxes I had previously dropped where now in my hands on their way to our beautiful classic New England home. I brought the boxes I dropped after I first saw him into my new room, damn this room was perfect, not to big and not to small. The room I had when my mom and I lived in New York was pretty small, you could barely fit a twin bed in it, but it was the best my mom could do being a single parent and losing many of clients in her practice being a psychologist due to her and my dad’s high profile divorce.
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