Sea Wolves

According to my alarm clock/ipod docking station I had unpackaged and set down on my nightstand, it was now eight fifteen. My orange ipod nano filled the room I had claimed with upbeat music, drowning out the sound of the rain beating against the house. Yeah, the rain had started up again, but at least I wasn't in the car anymore.

In the corners of the room I was in were boxes of all my stuff piled on top of each other. My full-sized bed with a lovely chocolate brown finish had been set up against the wall in the center of the room by the movers, much to my relief. I didn't know whether or not it would be too late in the evening to set it up, and there was no way I wanted to sleep on the floor for the night.

As soon as we all got into the house, everyone set to work. Mom and dad directed the band of husky movers as to where to put the furniture, while I headed upstairs to explore the rooms up there. There were three bedrooms upstairs: two good-sized ones towards the back of the house and a master bedroom. Already I knew mom and dad would be using the master bedroom, so I was left to choose which one of the two other rooms I wanted as my bedroom. In the end I went with the one that had a window facing the street.

I sang along as Sullivan Street by Counting Crows started playing. The song was mellow and soothing, but suddenly I started to feel tears welling in my eyes. Immediately I became angry. The lyrics had nothing to do with me, and yet they touched a sensitive spot inside that reminded me of everything gone wrong in my life. Getting up from the box I had knelt down by, I went over to the nightstand and pushed the button on my ipod to skip the song. Another Counting Crows began, this one called Rain King. I scowled but let it keep playing - at least it was more upbeat.

I started working again on my bedroom. Going through one of the many boxes, I found my bed sets. I selected one to put on my bed: the comforter was a grass green with an assortment of different colored flower patterns, and with it were matching pillowcases, shams, and sheets. Jojo stared at me with golden eyes through the bars of his carrier as I set the bedspread beside him on the bed. "You'll get out as soon as I have my room arranged," I told him quietly. He meowed at the attention. "Just be patient until then, okay?"

"Meg, dinner's here!" I heard my dad holler up the stairs. I wished I could ignore him. Didn't he know I haven't been eating much lately? Of course he didn't. Both him and mom are so ignorant. But whatever... I would go down and join them anyway before they came up looking for me and wondering why I didn't come down, although these days I have to force myself to eat now. I guess it's all apart of the depression thing. Not that I minded that I wasn't eating well. At least I would have a skinnier frame like I always wanted.

With a sigh I finally relented and headed downstairs. On the way I dodged two burly men carrying up part of my parents' bed frame. When I got to the kitchen area, the table hadn't been brought in yet, so I found my parents standing at the counter eating Chinese take-out. I joined them silently and grabbed a fork. I poked the saucy noodles around with the fork and only ate small amounts when I caught my parents glancing at me. I started to feel awkward as we ate with a silence hanging over us, so I excused myself and took my container upstairs. I threw the rest of my dinner away in the bathroom's trashcan and let Jojo lick the sauce off of my fork.

That night I lay in bed staring up at the dark ceiling. My eyes were puffy and sore from crying. The rain lightly fell against the window; it was drizzling again fortunately. The sound had helped to calm me, as well as Jojo's purring. He lay snuggled up against my arm, asleep with a small cat smile on each corner of his mouth.

I thought about my new school, and what it would be like. Would I make as many friends as I did back in California? I don't even know how it happened there. I'm normally a shy person, not exactly the nervous type, but more like the quiet, solitary type. Maybe I would end up the freaky loner girl. Somehow I didn't mind that. Maybe if my parents noticed that I wasn't making any friends, they would move us back to California. Fat chance, but it could happen, right? Well, I would find out soon enough what the new school would be like for me; there were only two days until I was to be enrolled in their system. Two days of worry, stress, and heartache.