High tide

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CHAPTER ONE

I kicked the dirt and ran down the hill. Everything I wanted was gone. All I cared for was ruined! I couldn't believe that paisley could do that to me!


Ouch! I scraped my knee on the sidewalk as I tripped on the crack, Blood dripped from the cut. I placed my hands over my knee and staggered the rest of the way down the hill.


I reached my house and stumbled inside.
"Mom! I'm in the bathroom if you need me!" I shuffled into the bathroom and shut the door. Then I sat on the ground with a piece of wet toilet paper and dabbed my injury.


"Cathy! Are you in there?" My mom shouted. "Are you ok?" She knocked on the door over and over until I answered.


"Yes I'm fine! I just fell on the sidewalk. I'm only bleeding a little." I answered back. My head started to throb at the sight of blood.


I shoved the door open and fled the bathroom and the bloody toilet paper.


When I reached my room I pasted band-aids onto my knee. Then I flopped down on my bed. I fingered a picture on my desktop. A picture of my dad.


He used to be a fun, laughing and wonderful dad, but now he didn't seem to care about me or mom.


A knock sounded on my door. "Cathy, are you ok in there?" My mom walked into my room.


"Yeah, I'm fine. I just got a little scrape on the way home. I guess I was in to much of a hurry." I put the picture of dad on the desk and sat up on the bed next to my mom. Then dad walked in.
"What are y'all doing in here?!?" He screeched. He was on alcohol again. A cigaret was in his mouth, filling the room with smoke.
"Dad, this is my room." I reminded him.
"Oh. Isn't this my room?" He mumbled then he walked out of the room.


Alcoholics. Gosh. I stooped down and gathered my books. Then I dumped them on my bed. "Mom, I need to work on my homework." I grumbled.

"Ok but dinner's at 5:00." She walked out of the room. I needed to work on my homework but I just couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to call paisley.

I grabbed my phone and punched in the numbers. As it was ringing, I looked around my room to see all the things that paisley and I drew or made. Suddenly, the phone stopped ringing and I heard muffled noises in the background.


"Don't be such an idiot!" Someone shouted. "I can't believe that I had someone as stupid as you become a part of my family!" Then a door slammed shut.


"I don't even want to be in your family!" Someone else muttered angrily under their breath. It was paisley.

Chapter two

I stared in horror at my phone. Could paisley have really been feeling what I was feeling right now? I didn't understand why she seemed so confident when she was at school. Obviously, I didn't think this through. So many questions filled my head. Why was she so mean? What was the problem that no one ever spoke to me verbally? How did this come and interfere with what I am going through?

My mom walked through the door and nudged me. "Uh, Cathy? There's someone at the door for you." "ok. I'll be right down." My mom shuffled out the door, looking nervous. After about five minutes, I finally stood up and walked down into the living room. Sitting on the couch was my mom and another girl that looked about my age.

"Cathy, this is Jenny. She lives in Austin." my mom gave me a look that obviously spelled 'play nice!' "Hi Jenny! my name is Catherine, but you can call me Cathy." my smile was forced. I didn't know whether I would like this girl or not.

"Um, Cathy? can I talk to you? In private?" my mom called me over and we walked into the kitchen. "Cathy, we're moving to Austin next week."
This was big news. the last time my parents moved was even before I was born and I'm almost seventeen! "What?! We're moving? But I like it here in Dallas!" "I know Cathy, but school ends in a week and once it does, we'll be packed up and ready to go. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time over the summer before school starts to make new friends, and besides, Jenny is gonna be our neighbor! You will do just fine." Yeah. just fine indeed. My mom and I walked out into the living room again and saw Jenny sitting on the couch politely.

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