The Quarterback, Outcast and Me ✔

Chapter Eight - Just Pack Up Your Life and Go

Friday rolled around faster than I would have liked. Not long after the final bell signalled weekend, I found myself in my bedroom, trying to cram my whole life into those brown moving boxes that always got too heavy for lifting.

Sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, I was busy boxing my collection of books. It had grown quite a bit over the years, and I was grateful that I knew I'd have enough space in my new room for them all. They would all have a place on a giant bookcase and not just stacked on the floor in a corner like they had been here.

Music from my computer kept me company, and I hummed along with the tunes of Christina Perri when my mother appeared in the doorway, a folded stack of clothes in her grasp.

"This is the last of your clothes and I've disconnected the washing machine so no more clean clothes until we've moved." I accepted the clothes with a nod and smile, placing the stack on my bed. I hadn't gotten around to packing away my clothes.

"Want to just order a pizza for dinner?" My mother asked, and hey, who could say no to pizza?

"Chicken, pineapple and mushroom for me, please," I said, rolling my eyes at my mother's usual grimace at my favourable choice of toppings.

"Who eats mushrooms and pineapple on pizza? Are you sure you're my daughter?"

"Well, you should ask for a refund then."

"I think I lost the number for the hospital," my mother said with a dramatic sigh and I chuckled.

"I hope you didn't lose the one for the pizza place?"

"Fingers crossed." My mom crossed two fingers on both her hands before disappearing down the hall and out of sight.

That. Our little private jokes. I hoped they wouldn't completely go away once we moved in with Patrick and Jace, and we had to act somewhat civilized. I had grown used to it just being my mom and me.

Ever since my dad left we had been a tight little unit, relying on each other and no one else. That all changed when she met Patrick, but it had been a good change. I had seen that very early on, which was probably why I had accepted him into our lives so quickly. I could see the positive effect he had on my mother and how she was slowly blossoming again after having been in such a dark and enclosed mental statement, not wanting to get back on the dating scene. 

I finished packing all my books and went on to the next task – movies. I had pretty much as big a collection of DVDs as I did books. Especially TV box sets were among the majority. I had a weakness and was well aware of it. My mother always joked about how I could open up a joint book-and-movie store if I ever needed the money. I never liked that joke. I could never part ways with any of my books or movies – I mean, there was a reason I'd bought them in the first place, right? I'd wanted them, to keep.

"Honey, pizza's here," my mother shouted from downstairs. I put my beloved Arrow season one DVD carefully into the moving box before getting up. I was momentarily stunned by my legs waking up because I'd been sitting in the same position on the floor for too long.

I shook them awake and went out into the hallway. All the paintings and pictures had been taken down and wrapped up in bubble wrap. It was a strange to see something you saw every day, suddenly changed.

I bounded down the stairs and went into the kitchen where my mother was busy slicing the pizzas. We each got one, mostly because she couldn't stand my choices of toppings, but also because I hated to compromise on something I loved so much. So we got to pick our favourites and voila, two happy people.

We ate in the living room by the TV. A rare occurrence, but since it was pretty much our last night in the house I grew up in, I suppose the rules didn't apply anymore.