Draw Me

33| Mama Jessica

Chapter 33: Mama Jessica

"Oh, at last! He's finally here. Late as always." Sky let out a sigh once he saw Chris' car approaching.

"He must have overslept again." Peter chuckled and slurped on his cold lemonade. "His coach doesn't let him breathe lately."

We were currently scattered around Matt's parking lot, struggling to fit our suitcases inside the cars, while simultaneously discussing about the car arrangements and who's going to sit in whose car.

Sure thing was that both Mrs. Walker and Mrs. Colton--Felix and Matt's mother--were driving us there. But since two cars were not enough for eleven teenagers, Matt was also going to drive.

I've met Mrs. Walker multiple times already, so I felt more comfortable driving with her than Mrs. Colton. And of course, I may hate my life sometimes but I'm really not ready to die yet, so riding with Matt was a no-no.

Not that I didn't trUsT Matt...

Yeah, okay. I might have my doubts about his driving skills.

All eleven of us were beyond excited about this road trip. You could see it in Peter's constant bunny skips or Felix's giggles and Blake's small hehe's. The girls especially were ecstatic. When I first told them about this three-day vacation the boys invited us to, they were beyond enthusiastic, literally jumping around the room with pitchy squeals.

They almost cried out of happiness...

Not to be dramatic or anything, but we really needed to clear our mind and break free from this suppressing routine. Not that we were working our butts off before... But we needed this.

We were not mentally stable.

I believe we are all aware of this by now.

That one Maldives trip that I so desperately wanted to go back when I was teaching Chris how to draw can be the equevalant of this.

Well, more like the Walmart version of it.

But it does its job, so I'l take it.

I heard the engine of a car switching off and I looked up, seeing a white car parked right outside of the parking lot.

I thought Chris' car was a black jeep?

Coming to the view, Chris stepped out of the passenger seat with a duffle bag hanging on his shoulder. He looked a little tired and his curls were disheveled. He approached us with a sleepy smile, his eyes barely open.

Apparently, Peter was right about Chris oversleeping.

I expected the white car to drive away, since it must have been one of his parents that brought him here, but the opposite happened. A figure came running out of the driver's seat and sprinted closer to us.

A breathtakingly beautiful woman around her late 40s came to the view. Soft brown curls and warm eyes so distinctive that my inner artist wanted to grab a pecil and a sketching block to draw her right there and then.

However, despite how elegant she appeared at that moment, her brows were furrowed in distress.

"Who's Olivia?!" the lady, who apparently must be Chris' mother, said out of breath.