Byrdie
"Wake up, sleepyhead! You're going to be late for school!" Mom sounds half-asleep as she shouts down the hallway of our tiny two-bedroom apartment in downtown Austin.
We've been here for a month, and, as always, it didn’t take long for the bullying to start. Curious stares, giggles at my clothes, and fake enthusiasm about which thrift store I got my jeans from. Soon, the bullying will escalate to shoves and ‘accidental’ trips in the hallway.
"Can I stay home today?" I ask. “I’m not feeling so good today.”
She’s too busy digging through her purse for her car keys to hear me. With this being a one-bedroom studio apartment, I told her I prefer sleeping on the couch and letting her have the only bedroom. I might occasionally wake up with a sore back and neck, but it’s better than walking in on my mom getting felt up by her newest boyfriend when he stays over.
“Have you seen my keys?” she asks as she pulls open the refrigerator door and, for no reason I can understand, looks in the refrigerator for them.
Smiling at a repeat of yesterday morning, I pull off my sheets, get to my feet, and cross our room to pick up the keys from the wooden dish beside the front door. “Here, Mom.”
She spins around, and her hand flutters to her chest. “Thank fuck for that. I thought I’d left them in the car.”
I raise my eyebrow at her.
With a grin, she slings her arm around my shoulder and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “My little girl is too smart to take after her mom and use potty language.”
My lips tilt up into a smile. “Yeah.”
She gives me a long look and then drags me over to the couch. “Come sit next to Momma. What’s up?”
Mom has always been more of a friend than a mom. Or, she tries to be. I’d prefer it if she were just my mom. And I’d prefer it even more if she’d find a place we could call home instead of moving every few weeks.
“How long are we going to stay here?”
Her eyes skate away from mine. “I don’t know yet, peach. Things with Greg are a bit strained right now. We’ll see what happens.”
I was afraid of that.
The evasiveness, talk of things being strained, and Mom being more forgetful than usual point to another move in the near future.
Greg, a twice-divorced firefighter in his fifties, is the reason we’re here in the first place. They hit it off on a dating app, and Mom decided we should move from Nebraska. His job is stable, and hers is whatever she can find. At the time, she’d been working as a diner waitress, a job she can easily pick up since they’re almost always looking to hire. She said it made more sense for us to go to him, and I’d soon settle into the local high school. She and Greg had a real chance of getting married one day, and building a happy life together.
Mom falls in love fast. The guys she falls for never love her for as long as she wants them to. Sometimes, I’m positive they don’t love her at all.
But I’m nearly seventeen, with my boyfriend count at zero and no history of falling in love with anyone ever, so what do I know about love?
“Maybe we could have more of a plan than that,” I suggest, watching her carefully and not wanting to hurt her. “I have to think about or at least start applying for college if I want to go. I’m nearly seventeen.”
After five minutes of sitting, she’s itchy, getting up from the couch and moving to fluff a cushion and fuss with her hair. Mom has never liked to settle. “Why would you want to go to college, sweetie? I never did. And it’s expensive.”
I lean down to dig out the papers from my bag that I printed out at the public library. “It doesn’t have to be expensive. If I keep up my GPA, I can apply for a few scholarships. As long as I avoid the most expensive schools, I might not even need to take out a big loan.”
But Mom isn’t listening.
She’s too busy showing me the necklace Greg bought her and asking whether she thinks he might propose soon.
“Any jewelry is always a good sign, right?”
“Right, Mom,” I say with a sigh.
I put away the scholarship information and get up from the couch to get ready for school. Maybe the bullying won’t be as bad as it was at the last school. And even if it is, cheap jewelry and canceled dates usually mean we’re moving again soon.
A sharp scream rings out.
I bolt upright and look around, frowning as I wipe red dust from my cheek.
