First Impressions

Why is it that my life sucks? I mean, seriously; what kind of name is Autum? More importantly, why is it that every time I start to get comfortable, something happens? Something life changing? Like, for instance, moving all the way across the country (from California to North Carolina) just for my mother's job. If you could even call it that. It's all filled up with paper work and cigarette breaks.

Mom's making me leave all my friends just for her love of doing paperwork. Doesn't that suck?

I just happen to be at the age of 16. I'm sure that if you looked in my closet (if I had one right now) you'd notice that there's no trace of any tight-bright-colored clothes, the exact opposite actually. More of those baggy jeans and t-shirts, skater shoes and combat boots, baseball caps and CDs, posters and crappy drawings. Trust me, I'm not a hate-the-world teenager, or am I one of those potheads; has it ever occurred that you're not really yourself when you've traveled 2,256 miles, only stopping for bathroom breaks and short 20 minute naps? I'm sure that you wouldn't be yourself if you haven't showered for 5 days, slept in a car without a pillow or blanket because your mom thinks she's saving money by not staying in a hotel, and it just happened to be that time of the month.

I just keep thinking, 'In two hours, I'll be in my nice fluffy bed.'

"Mom! I don't want to meet the neighbors! I want to sleep in the bed I was supposed to be in an hour ago. But no, you just had to go and get lost!!" I yell angrily, stomping my feet on the pavement for emphasis.

"I want to get along with our new neighbors since we didn't with the last." She says firmly, eyeing me.

Ok, in my defense, it wasn't my fault their dog was in the way when I was mowing the lawn. And how, in the land of boogers, was I supposed to know the fireworks would go through their window and start a fire? It wasn't even my idea in the first place!

"Wasn't my fault." I mumble tailing behind mom. I look up to see a big, two-story, white house with nice green grass and rose bushes in front of their porch. I take notice of the white picket fence running around the backyard. Ugh.

Mom rings the door bell and waits. I lean against the door while mom studies the red and white roses that were carefully arranged into some sort of pattern. She likes flowers; she's a flower-freak. Just as I was about to drop off into La-La Land, the door I was leaning on, opens. And you know what happened? To top off my awful day, I fall backwards into the house only to have some stranger look at me like I'm uglier than Hilary Clinton, herself.

Did I mention that that stranger is also one of the most gorgeous guys I have ever seen?

Tall, black hair, steely blue eyes. He wore a black shirt that had the band 'Green Day' on it with dark baggy jeans. I stare up at him from my position on the floor. I finally do a sit up and pull my blue 'YellowCard' shirt down to cover my exposed stomach. My combat boots squeak as I stand up and pull my baggy pants up to make sure my butt doesn't hang out unflatteringly. I need a new belt.

A lady with brownish blonde hair came running out of nowhere and smiles at me with a sweet, mother-like smile, her honey brown eyes sparkling like Fourth of July fireworks. I warm up to her quickly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I asked my son, Brad, to open the door because I was busy! I didn't expect anyone to fall in." She laughs good-humoredly. Mom gives me The Look. I cringe a bit.

I hate The Look. It's scary and isn't a pleasant sight.

'Brad' just continues staring at me like I'm the most fascinating thing on the planet, only scratch out that fascinating part and put stupidest. Maybe he isn't that

"What?" I growl lowly, so neither of our mothers hears. His face turns into a scowl.

"You have to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen." His deep, smooth voice comes. I fold my arms and roll my eyes. Ok, so scratch out the 'most gorgeous' part. What. A. Jerk-face.

"And you have to be the most-"

"She's used to falling down. I'm Sealena Flika and this is my daughter Autum. We're your new neighbors." Mom cuts in, finally hearing and knowing what I was about to say. I scowl at him and turn away.

"I'm Clair Flitcher and that was my son, Brad! Autum! That's such a pretty name! I really think it suits you, because you're just so pretty, just like the season!" She says cheerfully.

"Yeah. It's wonderful, isn't it?" I say boredly. Mom gives me a look.

"Autum, you have such a nice personality! Brad? You've hardly said anything, don't be rude." Mrs. Flitcher says, her voice suddenly turning from warm and bubbly to scolding and sharp. I pull a shocked face at her sudden change of attitude and take a step back. Her attitude had changed so quickly, it was scary. Brad was obviously used to her bipolar-ness because he showed no sign of surprise…. Or any emotion for that matter.

"Humph." He grunts. Mrs. Flitcher looks as if she's about to scold him some more, but I can't help but cut in.

"Erm, uh, sorry, but can I use you're bathroom?" I ask sheepishly, feeling my face heat up. She snaps her head from Brad with a smile on her face.

"Sure dear. Third door on you're left." I quickly run up the stairs and start counting the doors. I come to the third door and open it only to take a quick step back.

This is not the bathroom.

I poke my head inside and take a better look at the room. The walls were covered with varieties of posters, some of the black paint peeking out where part of the wall wasn't covered. The black bed spread was pulled back revealing the red sheets, magazines littered the floor, and cds were all over the nightstand beside the window sill with a cd player sitting on it. I walk over to the nightstand and slowly pick up one of the cds, looking at it.

"What are you doing?"

I let out a yelp and throw the cd up the in air. I look up at the catapulting cd, watching it fall due to gravity. I quickly hold my hands out to catch it to keep it from getting scratched. I sigh in relief and gingerly set the cd back on the little table. I turn around to come face to face with Brad who just happened to have a nasty glare on his face.

"Hey! This isn't the bathroom!" I say in a duh-voice, smile innocently. I wince a bit as his glare hardens.

"What are you doing in my room?" He demands. I stuff my hands in my pockets and let myself slouch.

"Your mom said third door on the left." I shrug lazily, looking around his room. "From these posters, I can tell you're a very disturbed child. Want to talk about it?"

"No. And my mom meant the right. Get out." He growls, shoving me towards the door. I stop and stand outside his door.

"Well aren't you just full of sunshine?" I ask sarcastically. His only reply is to slam the door in my face. "I'll take that as a yes?" I ask, raising my voice to make sure he hears me. The door reopens and he glowers down at me. Sometimes I hate being 5'6, it really sucks.

"Are you just trying to annoy me on purpose?"

"Yes, because I just live to annoy you. Is it working?" I say even more sassily. I stomp across the hall before he can say anything, open the door to the bathroom, and slam the door in his face.

I snicker to myself evilly as I wash my hands. I look up and catch my reflection in the mirror. I see a girl with short black hair with fierce yet kind green eyes reflecting from the light. Her eyes blink, making her thick eyelashes flicker. She tucks the longer part of her bangs behind her ears while the rest fall back in to place. Her smile gleams with white teeth, a little crooked but barely noticeable. Her thin lips pull back into the smile, making dimples in her cheeks.

Wow, could I get anymore uglier?

I exit the bathroom and walk down the stairs. The living room was empty, completely deserted.

"Where did they…" I trail off as soon as I hear chatter outside on the back porch. I follow the voices as they start growing louder as I near to the source. I stop in the door way, staring at the scene in front of me. Mom was talking to Mrs. Flitcher…. About me… this can go very badly.

"And so when Autum was nine years old, she used to do soccer. She was the only girl on the soccer team and so one time when they went to play against another school, one of the guys had made fun of her, saying that she couldn't play because she was a girl." My mom started the story. Mrs. Flitcher was listening with Brad sitting beside her, staring at my mother interestedly. "Do you know what she did? She kicked the soccer ball right into his face, breaking his nose!"

Mrs. Flitcher bursts into laughter with Mom. I come and sit down beside Mom, staring at her incredulously. Aren't parents supposed to be sad that another kid got hurt? Well… this is my mother we're talking about. I sigh and shake my head at her childishness. Despite our arguments, my mother and I are alike in many ways. She says that I'm the exact replica of her when she was 16.

"Oh, when Brad was fourteen, he got into this fight over a girl. Would you believe that he gave that kid two black-eyes and a broken tooth?" Mrs. Flitcher shares. Mom leans back, covering her mouth while she laughs, staring at Brad. "It turned out that the girl had a boyfriend already."

I look over at Brad who was just sitting there, doing nothing. He turns his head towards me once he sees me staring. I smirk.

"A fight over a girl? That's so stupid." I snort. He glares at me but-oh look! He has no comeback!

Autum: 1

Brad: 0

"Oh, that's ok. Autum used to do ballet when she was six. At one of her dance recitals, she tripped over one of the other girls and fell off the stage while everyone else ran into the other girl! Everyone was on the ground by the end!" Mom laughs along with Mrs. Flitcher.

My smirk disappears as I still stare at Brad. He makes his own cocky smirk when my face flares up.

"Ballet? You? You must have been as graceful as a pig doing a handstand." He snickers. I lean over to him and flick him in the forehead.

"So. Atleast I have the ability to do the splits while you only have the ability to get jealous and resort to violence."

"Violence? What about when you kicked that ball into that kids face?"

"That wasn't violence, it was self defense."

"Oh really? What did he do to you?"

"He was getting ready to attack! I had to defend my poor little-self!"

"So you broke his nose?"

"Exactly." I say and fold my arms. Our mothers keep talking, unaware of our little argument. "You're wasting my time."

"I could say the same thing about you." He snorts, turning away. I roll my eyes and lay my head down on the table, watching our mothers talk about anything and everything. Moms. I never have understood the adult species and I probably never will. That's one thing scratched off my to-do list.

I feel being shaken. I feel my head rolling back and forth and more shaking. I slowly open my eyes to see mom staring at me, I straight back at her, completely oblivious as to where we were.

"Honey, you're drooling." She whispers. I look over to see Mrs. Flitcher smiling and Brad giving me a weird look. I sit up and wiped off the drool.

"It's not very lady-like to drool, or in your case, man-like." Brad says boredly, scratching at his fingernail.

"Come a little closer and I'll show you man-like." I say raising my fist half-heartedly. Then, he smirks. And I really don't like it. I shiver a little and stand up with my mom.

"I really would like to talk some more but I'm sure Autum wants to sleep some more and I should start unpacking." Mom says walking towards the front door. Mrs. Flitcher, Brad, and I followed behind her. Mrs. Flitcher opens the door while Mom starts thanking her and stuff. I keep glaring at Brad because he still had that stupid smirk on his face. I was about to punch him when I heard something about Chinese Buffet.

"I'm sure we'll come. Autum loves Chinese food." Mom says happily.

"Well, come over here at seven, and we'll drive together." Mrs. Flitcher says. We then say our final good-byes and go home. Finally.

I head up towards the room that I had picked out before when mom was looking at house. I walk in and see boxes everywhere. I eye my mattresses by the window and walk over there wearily and sit on them. I look out the window and see Brad lying on his bed lazily, looking at a magazine.

I flop down on my back; sighing.

Oh, Lord-God Almighty, please save me.