Corner of the Eye {NaNoWriMo15}

Chapter 1

Hey guys. This is the start of my project for NaNoWriMo 2015. That includes pros and cons. The main pro is that I'll definitely update fast. Especially since I'm supposed to be writing 1666.6666666666... words a day. Con - It won't be the best writing, since I don't have time to revise before I post. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this intro chapter. Now READ!

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I've always thought I led a normal life. Normal-ish at least. Apart from the fact that I've moved twelve times and that my dad disappeared when I was ten years old, then my life is relatively normal. Well, okay. No, my life isn't normal, I know it. But that won't stop me from wishing it is.

Now I'm moving for the thirteenth time to a town called Portage in the middle of Ohio. Apparently it's really small. Like, really small. And I'm hating it already. I haven't even been there, but if it's tiny then how am I supposed to get any friends? What if everyone there are old people? But Mom seems set on going, so I suppose I'll go. I'll just have to send all my prayers there ahead of time. But seriously, why does this one have to be the thirteenth? It's bound to be unlucky.

Maybe, just maybe, someday my mom and I will settle down and dad will come home and we can be one big happy family. But somehow, something inside me tells me that won't happen.

But I can dream. 

~ ~ ~

"Hey mom," I say sleepily when I feel a nudge at my shoulder. "It's not seven o'clock already, is it?" All my muscles scream at me as I try to sit up.

"It sure is, honey." Mom sighs. I'm pretty sure she just woke up too.

"Ugh, Monday's suck..." I groan, stretching. "Thanks for waking me up, Mom," I say as she begins to leave the room.

"Of course." She closes the door, giving me privacy.

Okay, so that's what possibly makes me less normal than other people. Most kids would hate their moms for waking them up, but mine has too much stress over her head for me to complain. I don't think she could possibly handle anymore.

I nearly slip back to sleep as I get ready for school - my last day at this school. Tomorrow I'll be in Portage, starting school at Portage Academy, which has grades preschool through twelfth grade. That thought in itself kept me awake. I'll be sharing a building with three-year-olds? Seriously?

I suppose I'll have to say goodbye to my new friends already. I've only known them for three months, but I'll miss them. These are the struggles of moving so often. Sometimes, I don't even make any good friends before I leave again, which can be good and can be bad.

Finally I finish up in my room after slipping on a t-shirt and sweats. I push my glasses further up my nose and I inhale deeply.

"Mmm... what is that, Mom?" I ask, peeking around the corner of my doorway into the apartment kitchen. "It smells like heaven..." I sidestep the towers of cardboard boxes and sit at the table.

Mom comes over to me and squeezes my shoulders while setting a plate of microwaved cinnamon buns in front of me. "I'm sorry we have to go through this again. This time..."

She doesn't finish. Every move, she would say, "This time will be the last. I promise." But not this time. It's like she's lost hope. I can't bear to see Mom like this. She used to be so optimistic, but what changed her?

~ ~ ~

Car rides suck.

If I was a bad child, I would bombard Mom with "Are we there yet?" and lots of raucous singing. Lucky for her, I'm not a bad child.