Nothing Is Ever Certain

Chapter 2: Changes

Things changed since my father’s death. My attire went from varieties of beautiful bright colours to old grey sweatpants and black hoodies. School seemed useless, so I didn’t concentrate enough to get either 80s or 90s. My teachers pitied me at first, but my attitude became sour and they seemed annoyed. There was never a day without arguing with a teacher or principal.

I failed every class and lost my friends. They were comforting at first, when every news channel had Charles Matthews written over it, but when it became old news, they didn’t care. The popular Blondies teased me and called me a freak. No one defended me. That’s when I realized I had no one. I had been in a bubble to block the outside world. It was peaceful and relaxing and I didn’t have to worry about anything or anyone.

People didn’t understand my way of coping with the fact that my father was gone. Forever. I haven’t been physically bullied. Yet. It was mostly name calling or sneaking anonymous letters in my locker saying mean things. I got used to it though. It had become a routine. Every morning they shared disturbing gossip and I ignored them. Drowning my sorrows in music was my escape. The beat of a drum or the strumming of a guitar kept me at peace.

I plugged my earphones into my phone and blasted a random song. As I walked to math class I glanced at my locker. The words “freak” were painted over the grey metal. I closed my eyes for a moment and students encircled me. Most of them were crouched over laughing and a couple teachers snickered as they past. My old friends stood in the crowd also and I sent them death glares.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I sharply turned and sprinted to the front of school, leaving the chaotic crowd. The harsh wind blew through my curly hair as I ran across the empty parking lot. I didn’t noticed how fast I ran until I reached my house and locked myself in my room blocking everything out.

My head shot up when my mother rushed into my room finding me in a corner with my head between my knees. She must’ve left work after the school called. She caressed me and then scolded me about leaving school without permission. The principal called us for a meeting, so we drove back to the horrible place.

Mr. Galloway escorted us into his office and began talking about how I should talk to someone about my ‘emotions’. I don’t have emotional problems; I just need people to stop bothering me. I zoned in and out of the conversation. I apologized and sat outside his office, while my mother spoke to him privately.

My mother left his office and waved for me to follow her. We crossed the lot to the car and drove home. She parked in the driveway and turned to me. I chipped at my black nail polish feeling her burning glare. We sat in silence, neither of us moving. We stared into space and I was about to leave when she blurted out,

“Kat, we’re moving.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was planning to move down to California. It’s warmer there and you can make new friends. I know that you’ve been having trouble at school because your principal called last week. He said you’re grades are down the toilet your attitude is unpleasant. I already told him about transferring you to a new school. You get Monday to say goodbye and pick up your school stuff.”

I exited the black Mazda without a reply. My mom probably thought I was sad about leaving, but I was glad. At least I didn’t have to pass by the area where my father passed away. I wouldn’t constantly be reminded about the incident.

~

Mom called me down for supper. I shut down my laptop and descended the stairs. She wanted to discuss our move and I wasn’t in the mood, but I sat at the table. She set down the plates and sat opposite me. I picked at my food, bombarded with thoughts. Will I like California? Will I get bullied more? Will I make friends? Questions overflowed before my mother interrupted me,

“Are you going to keep picking at your food, or just eat it already?’

She stared at me with her green eyes, before I took the first bite of the spaghetti. The flavours made my taste buds tingle and ache for more, but I didn’t want to satisfy my mom. Staring at the tomato sauce and thin pasta made me eager. I continued eating, a little faster then usual and I glanced at the smirk on my moms face. I finished my last bite as she finally spoke,

“California is far from here. Most of our furniture will be sold and I’ll buy new ones, so if there’s any specific object you want to keep, just tell me and I won’t put it on the list of things to sell.”

I sat still and thought. It’s really happening. She already had a list of things to sell. I didn’t have many valuables; just a couple items I saved from my dad, and some junk I collected over the years.

I didn’t give her a reply, so she placed our plates in the sink and stared out the window. The wind picked up and the trees danced in our yard. Sighing, she slowly exited the kitchen. I knew I didn’t seem enthusiastic, but I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. I rose from my seat and filled the dishwasher with the dirty plates. I finally get to leave this hell hole. No more abusing students. No whispers about me or my father. No antagonizing teachers. Just a new beginning to a new life; a new me.