Camisado

I rolled down my window as I panted, trying to cool myself down as much as possible as I sat in the hot Nevada heat. Nevada was so boring. My mother and I have probably been driving for ten hours in Nevada and the only thing interesting I have seen is a lonely pink house in the middle of the desert. I saw tumble weeds, I saw dirt, and I could swear that I saw a lake once, but it was probably just the heat playing tricks on me. I don’t want to live here. I hated moving. I know that this is the first time I’ve done this, but I still hate it. I only had a few friends, back in Seattle, but that was a lot more than I had here.

You’re probably wondering why I had to move away from my Seattle paradise, and well, my story is a little difficult for me to think about. You see my father, just recently died of lung cancer. It’s hard for my mother and I. We have to move out to Vegas because my mother has no job, and we are out of money. We have to live with my very Catholic Aunt Adela. She has decided to enroll me into a catholic school. Saint Bishop of Gorm or something like that, I think it’s called. I’m not looking forward to it. I don’t want to wear a uniform and I don’t want to start my junior year all by myself. It’ll be like being a freshman again, and I hated that year. I just wanted to go home.

It is August, and my summer will soon be ending, even though it feels like it never started. We’ve been packing for this move for three months. We couldn’t take most of our belongings with us because we had to sell most of it for extra cash. I only brought two suitcases, one with clothing and one with other items that are important to me. I’m not sure how on earth I am going to survive high school. I was barely surviving back in Seattle. I don’t know anyone here, but I don’t know if I want to. So far, the image I have in mind is Strippers. Everyone in Vegas is a hooker, a stripper, or an alcoholic, and that scares me. Perhaps I’m being stereotypical, but at the very point and time, I don’t really care. I’m in the mood for thinking negatively.

“Genevieve, please, roll up your window. You’re letting all the cool air out.” My mother said from the front seat. I sighed and pushed the tiny black button forward until the glass was sealed shut. I hated when my mother called me by my full name. I hate my name, Genevieve Maria Gosling. It was such a horrible name. I hope to change it when I’m legal.

“What cool air?” I muttered sarcastically as I furrowed my eyebrows and wrapped my arms around my legs. My mother sent me a look through the mirror, but I didn’t bother to stare back.

Another reason we are moving to Aunt Adela’s is because my mother is a little bit insane. Ever since my father’s death she’s been drinking and taking strange medication a lot, but that usually happens at night. She’s only hit me a few times before, and I never said anything to anyone, because I figure it was my fault in the first place. I have said some pretty rude things to her in the past. I guess we were both pretty tense when it first happened over five months ago, but now we are getting better. I still cry when I think too much about him, or when I look at old pictures of us together, but I’m starting to come to terms with his death. I don’t know if my mother will ever really get over it, though. I’m trying to be rational about it because I know he just isn’t coming back, but my mother doesn’t think that way. She’s been very depressed over the last couple of months.

“How much longer?” I whined from the backseat. My mother sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead before she answered me.

“Only a few more minutes, we should be coming to civilization very soon,” my mother said in reply, rubbing her temples with one hand. Oh and that’s another thing my father’s death has caused, lots and lots of stress. I know it must sound like I’m blaming him, but I’m really not. I just wish he was still here, that’s all.

I sighed as I stared out my window to see the large buildings ahead of us. The over-exaggerated “Welcome To Fabulous Las Vegas” sign didn’t make me feel any better. I really don’t understand what is so fabulous about it. Casinos galore, packed with high, drunken women, and horny, idiotic cigar smoking men, did not sound appealing to me at all. But I guess I’ll just have to live with it. I didn’t bother to look out onto the strip as we drove through, no matter how many things my mother pointed out to me. I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to go home, but I knew that was never going to happen.

I felt our rusty old Volkswagen come to a stop. I peeked my eyes ever so slightly above the car door, and looked upon my new home. It was small, and very quaint. It was painted and ugly yellow color, and was fading like a ninety-year-old woman. The trimming was an off-white color, and it probably would’ve looked nice it wasn’t peeling away. There was an old rocking chair on the porch, and an old table next to it. All in all, the house looked like it belonged to my Aunt. And I wasn’t surprised when she came running outside to greet us as we started to empty our trunk. “Oh, Oh, darlings! You’re here!” An old, heavyset woman screeched, rushing over to the car. Her large wrinkled arms opened widely as she came up to us. She smiled wildly as she rushed up to my tiny form and embraced me. I could barely breath.

“Hi, Aunt Adela,” I said into her large stomach that her arms were forcing me upon. She kissed my cheek, before rushing over to start a conversation with my mother. I took this as a brilliant opportunity to leave. Picking up my two suitcases, and rushed inside the old house, hoping to find my room.

As I entered the house, the first thing that came into my nostrils was the smell of cherry pie. I smiled just a tiny bit. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. I pulled my bags around the house, checking doors until I found one that looked like it suited me. I pushed open the old door, to what must have been a guest room. It was actually quite lovely, with light blue walls, and matching décor. The furniture was accented with sophisticated white lace blankets, but despite the old fashioned look, I loved it. I felt so vintage and different, so I decided to claim it. Walking into the room, I pulled my suitcases behind me and let them fall in the middle of the floor. I sat myself down on the bed and looked around the room. It could use a little touches of me, but other than that it was nice. If anything, my home in Nevada was going to be nice.

I opened up the window, to let out some of the suffocating air that was probably the same air breathed by whoever lived in this house a billion years ago. I pushed hard on the rusty old thing and eventually got it to move from it’s closed position. I smiled as I poked my head out and looked around. There was about three feet under the window, and that was covered with slightly green grass. There was much room to walk back there though, because there was a wooden fence separating yards a few feet from my window. I heard noise coming from over the fence, yelling and laughing, and being the curious thing I am, I leaned over the window trying to look over the fence, but I must have leaned over a bit too far because I felt myself loose my balance and fall onto the prickly glass. “Ow, Fuck,” I said as I landed on my head. The laughter and the yelling stopped as I rubbed my aching head. “God damn it, Genevieve. The first thing you do when you get here is fall out of a window.” I muttered to myself, Groaning as I rubbed my head. I heard a stifled laugh, and my head shot up. With my eyes wide, I was met by two boys, who were watching me from above the fence. The one who had stifled a laugh waved at me innocently. His dark brown eyes shinning with enjoyment, from behind his red glasses as he smiled at my with a mouthful of braces. The other one looked at me with concern.

“Are you alight, there?” he asked me, his lighter, chocolate brown eyes showing genuine concern. I nodded and stood, mortified that I had just embarrassed myself in front of two guys my age, that would probably tease me to no end if they went to my school. I walked away from them, rubbing my head as I did so. “Nice to meet you too!” the dark haired boy with the glasses said. I waved from behind, not bothering to look back. God, I hate it here.