One of the Boys

There were three things I had learned in the four hours of living here.

One, I would be okay with handling the dirty jobs around here at the farm. Two, the amount of time I was staying here was unknown to me. And three, Annabelle was entirely too happy.

Her lips were always pulled upward in a fantastic smile. All of her features were just too pretty, making me want to gag. Although she was trying to be nice to me, I knew that when school rolled around tomorrow that she wouldn't even spit in my direction. I knew her type; confident, preppy, always got a guy hanging off her arm, but wielding a bitch beneath the skin. She had left me alone to get settled in, but I knew she'd be hanging around me here to "make sure I was okay".

I stuffed clothes into the dresser drawers, furious at my current situation. I had no other options except to drop-out of school, but of course no one was allowing me to do so. My body felt drained, what with not having a cigarette in nearly two days. If my parents were so concerned about me, why didn't they just stick me in some rehab center for a few years? I had been stripped of every one of my addictions without any notice or time to prepare myself.

Or, so they thought.

I pulled out a few more shirts piled on top of one another, feeling the bulge of a carton between the fabrics. I peered between at the pack of Marlboros, overjoyed to have them here with me. However, my opportunities to smoke one were slim to none, at least until I got to school. Even then, trying to have one privately would be a stretch. I pushed the two shirts concealing my cigarettes into the drawer at the very bottom, making sure they were hidden as best as I could manage.

"Knock, knock."

I jumped, dropping the next pile of clothes I had taken from my suitcase. I scrambled to pick them up again and quickly pack them on top of the previous ones before anyone could notice the bulge from the cigarettes.

"Lydia?" Eliza peered in from the door. I looked up at her, trying not to seem startled even though my heart was racing.

"How are you doing, dear?" she asked politely, making her way into the room and sitting on the bed. I finished shoving clothes into the drawer and shut it before standing up and facing her.

"Fine, I guess," I replied, leaning against the dresser and crossing my arms across my chest.

"Are you liking it here?"

"It sucks."

Eliza sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. "You'll come around," she said defiantly.

"Oh, will I? You think this is somewhere that I want to live?" I snapped.

"Well, not necessarily, but you'll get used to everything here sometime."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I reckon you'll just have to deal with it."

I scowled and turned my back on her, looking out the window that gave me a beautiful view of the neverending fields.

"What did I say earlier about respect in this house?" Eliza retorted smugly. "I will treat you as though I'm your real mother, and my husband will surely enforce every word I say."

"My real mother never really gave a damn about what I did."

Eliza stood up, disappointment filling her features in the same way I saw on Mr. Ortega's face yesterday. I looked back out the window, ignoring her and her authority. She wasn't my mother, she never would be.

"Get your attitude together and maybe you won't have such a difficult time here, okay?" Eliza tried to reason. Anger boiled under my skin, my nails clawing into my skin over this talk.

"You're not my mother!" I yelled my exact thoughts, turning my eyes onto her. However, she didn't look hurt in the least.

"That's what they all say," she retorted, barely phased. She walked out of the room, leaving me to my own devices.

I knew I didn't handle authority well, but here was going to be a bit of a challenge.