The Former Mean Girl

Prologue

Prologue

It's one of those days; you know the kind I'm talking about. Those days that begin with drama,  end with drama, and have drama aaaall in-between. Don't believe me? Fine. I'll talk you through it.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I'm buttering my morning bagel. Then, all of a sudden, my mom swans into the kitchen, collapses down onto a chair, and wails. Uh oh, here we go. It's meltdown time. How do I know? She's wearing a face full of make-up and her floor length pink silk dressing-gown. Plus, there's the distinct smell of her anniversary perfume wafting in the air. The turbulent trio.

Mom starts caterwauling about how she's getting old, about how she's lost her looks, about how her life is slipping from her fingers. This is her usual meltdown. My favourite line is 'my face is one giant wrinkle'. I laughed when I first heard her say it (because I pictured her face as one giant wrinkle, of course) but now all I can do is sigh. These outbursts are almost daily and I'm sick of them. You can't get your glory days back by crying about them, Frankie.

 Mom keeps whining and I listen to her for two minutes before I resort to my usual meltdown remedy - a double strength dirty martini with extra olives. Mom takes the drink and saunters out the room, wailing down the hallways like a ghost haunting an 18th century manor. Thank goodness she's gone. 

I get back to my bagel and I'm only halfway through when there's a car horn outside. It's my best friend, Tabby, coming to pick me up. We're off on a road trip today, a full two hours drive to go to some overpriced boutique (it's Tabby's idea, don't blame me). But, as soon as I sit in the car I can tell something's off. She's got her pouty face on. Heaven knows what she's grumpy at - it could be anything from a broken nail, to she's been arrested for possessing illegal face cream. I do what I do best when Tabby's in a mood. Turn up the music and pretend she doesn't exist. 

I listen peacefully to 00s R&B for twenty minutes when she turns off the radio. Uh oh, here we go.  I sigh and put on my shades, bracing myself for the rant. 

She starts yelling at me about the photo her boyfriend uploaded to Blah-Face last night. Apparently, my comment was a tad too flirty - it was a picture of his abs, what more do I need to say? Either way, Tabz ain't happy. 

For once, I'm feeling calm so I say: you're right, Maybe three winky faces is a bit too much.

This makes her yell even louder. She thinks there shouldn't be any winky faces at all. 

I say: now, that's impossible. It's a picture of his abs and I'm only human.

And then we agree to disagree and continue our trip...

LOL. I wish. Instead, she stops the cars and tells me to get out.

I shout that I'm off to her boyfriends house. She speeds away without a catty reply, which is odd for Tabz - she's probably trying to get to her boyfriend's house before I can. But, either way, Tabby has the last laugh as I now have a forty minute walk home. 

By the time I see my glorious front door, I am in desperate need of a gallon of water and a long hot shower. I open the door and the first thing I hear is a giggle coming from upstairs. I frown as I put my keys in the key pot. That's odd. Mom should be at work by now. 

My eyes land on a pair of $1000 heels lying clumsily on the stairs - almost as if they've been kicked off in a hurry. There's another giggle and I'm intrigued. Slowly, I walk to the stairs and start to climb, picking up the heels as I go.  

When I'm at the top of the stairs, I hear another giggle. It's a stupid giggle. An obnoxious giggle. 

Just in front of the top step is a pair of tailored pants. They're my father's - custom made and his favourite. He wears them on date nights with Mom. Well, actually, they haven't had a date night in years. I pick up the trousers and keep following the noise. 

There's a singlet on the floor now. Silk, of course. But, again, not my mother's. I pick it up and continue, getting closer and closer to my father's bedroom door, finding more clothes as I go. I find a sock, two socks, a pencil skirt. My father's dress shirt he wears for big board meetings. And, finally, right outside the door, is a purple lace bra. 

I know what I'm going to see, and I know I shouldn't look. My heart is in my throat, and I have the subtle feeling like I might vomit at any second. But I can't help it, I have to look. 

Slowly, I open the door.

My dad's in the bed under the covers (hallelujah). He's hovering over a twenty something year old. 

I scream.

They look at me.

And, for a moment, everyone's frozen, stuck in that second, not ready for the hell that is about to be unleashed. 

Dad's eyes are wide as he stares at me. "Lea, wait..."

I don't listen, of course. I slam the door shut and start running for the stairs. Dad's chasing me, shouting about how he's sorry, how it's just a fling, how it's my fault for being such a scoundrel. I scream again, purely to drown out his pathetic excuses. I make it out the front door and know I'm safe. No way is Dad letting our neighbours see him in just a comforter wrapped around his waist. But he shouts still, on the other side of the door. He's threatening me now, saying he'll cut me off if I tell Mom. I scream back that Mom owns half of everything, jackass. 

I walk to the trashcan, put their bundle of clothes in it, and start running. I run straight to Mom's work, straight to her floor, and straight into her office. No one stops me. Maybe because they know who I am, or maybe because of the potent stench that's seeping off my skin.

Mom looks up at me confused and a little scared. I look awful and I never look awful. She knows something's up. 

It all comes out my mouth like diarrhoea, and Mom barely moves a muscle. She has this look in her eyes, this weathered and sad look. And then it hits me, it all suddenly makes sense. Her continuous outbursts about being old and wrinkled. Her general instability.

She already knows. 

I start crying. Mom starts crying. I ask what we're going to do, and she says we can't stay anymore. Not if I know. She messages Dad and asks him to meet at her office. He messages that he's on the way.

Then, we take our chance. We get in Mom's car and drive home, while the house is empty. Five minutes to pack, she tells me. I look at my sixteen years worth of possessions and sigh. Duffel bag in hand, I start shoving clothes in. I don't really care what ones - I can't think straight. The only clothes I can concentrate on are the ones in the trashcan outside.

I make sure to pack my toothbrush, laptop, Mr Wrinkles, and my memory box. Then, Mom's already shouting for us to go. 

We drive to a hotel and she says she'll call her lawyers in the morning. She says we can find a new place to live. I tell her I don't want to live in this city anymore. She says she doesn't either.

And then, two days later, we're on a plane flying across the country. Leaving Dad, leaving Tabby, leaving Tabby's boyfriend with the abs. Leaving my whole life as I know it. 

A/N:

Helloooo lovely people. I hope you enjoyed the prologue to TFMG. Don't worry, the actual chapters will be written normally with proper dialogue and stuff ahah.

What do you think so far? What do you think of Lee?