“Mom, I’m home!” I yell and slam my knapsack on the floor. I can smell cookies baking in the oven; yum! My mother thumps down the stairs, and I roll my eyes. She’s in a towel and slippers, freshly out of the shower.
“Oh hi Judith. How was your first day?” she asks, clearly oblivious to my anger. “Did you make any friends?” I shake my head and turn towards the kitchen.
“Nope, none. Everyone here sucks. Got a date tonight?” I ask. My mother only takes a shower in the afternoon when she’s
“prepping” for a date.
“He’s really nice. His name is Tyler.” she answers happily. Is my mom blonde or what?
“Joy. Another abusive, alcoholic train wreck to bring home. You sure you don’t just want a cat or something, mom? I mean, all the guys you date are just like pets, right?” I ask and run to my new room, ignoring the sad, shocked look on my mom’s face. I hate this! Why did she move us to New York City? Now, instead of my usual cul-de-sac home, I live in a townhouse. Great.