Freeway

I looked around my room and then sat on my bed, slightly dazed. I was leaving in just a few days. This was big, I was going out on my own.

I mean, I’ve been out on my own before, partying and hanging out with friends, but this was on a whole new level! I was packing up a week’s amount of clothing, my diary, a few pieces of jewelery and little pieces of life from here.

Summer break was starting in just a few days, graduation was close, but after these two months of summer break, I had to go to college. That meant I had to tone down my partying, and actually learn stuff. Well okay, who was I kidding, college was nothing but a huge party. But this was different, I wasn’t going to have these amazing people I got to call friends.

I smiled to myself as I hopped off my bed and skipped downstairs, nearly running straight into my father.

“Aw, look, my little baby is almost all grown up,” he smirked as he patted my head, making sure I knew he was referring to my height, which was still pretty short compared to most people: 5‘7.

He had dark blue eyes that looked grey in the right lighting, he had darker skin then the rest of us, and was close to six feet tall. My mother and him were as close to opposites as night and day when it came to appearances. He had a belly on him, that made him feel like a teddy bear when you hugged him and his hair was greying all over, but he still looked good for being 45 years old.

“And your little baby is going off to college in less then three months,” I reminded him with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, then I breezed past him and headed to the kitchen. I hummed to a random song as I danced around the kitchen, getting dinner ready, making sure to get an extra plate and there was enough food for an extra person. I went to the dining room with the plates, set those down in the right places, then the forks and knives, which were followed by glasses.

“Freya coming for dinner again?” A higher, female voice said from the doorway. I turned to look at my mother. She looked younger then 43, she looked maybe 29. She had dazzling green eyes, blond hair and pale skin. She was near to flawless, you could only count a few wrinkles on her face, the rest of her body was gradually showing her aging, but not by much. She worked out almost daily to keep her physique. At least I kept her height, if not just her eyes, she was 5‘6.

“I’m pretty sure she is, I told her to come on over at school today, but I haven’t been able to reach her phone, calling or texting, so she might be on the road or something.” I said with a slight sigh and then picked up my mood and started to cook again.

Dinner tonight: baked chicken, mashed potatoes, peas and my infamous gravy that went good with any type of meat.

“So, any plans I should know about this summer?” She asked and then hopped onto the island counter, swinging her legs like a kid. I turned to face her, a smile on my lips.

“Well yeah, but it’s a secret until I know all the details. But if I disappear one day and don’t come back for a while, I’m fine,” I tell her truthfully and she laughs a little.

“As long as I get a phone call saying you’re alright,” she says right back, without missing a beat. And the thing is, she was dead serious.

“Yes mommy, I promise. And if I end up at your doorstep, dead or mutilated,” I stop for added drama.

“I’ll still love you,” she continued, then hopped off the counter and kissed my forehead.

“I love you baby, dinner smells great and if you disappear, give me a call or something. And if I get phone calls from other parents asking where their children have gone, I’ll just tell them you kidnaped them.” She said over her shoulder as she turned to walk away.

“That sounds about right.” I called after her them began to giggle to myself.

The pot of potatoes was boiling, so I brought it down a bit, poked a potato and decided they weren’t done yet, then checked on everything else.

Nothing was finished yet, so I rushed upstairs, grabbed my phone and brought it downstairs with me, checking a few missed messages I had, none of them were from Freya so I didn’t care.

I sent Freya another message asking what she was doing, and if she was coming for dinner.

Frowning at the blank screen, I slipped the plastic contraption into my pocket and returned to the food. The potatoes were done, so I drained those, put them back in the pot and added milk and butter. Before I started mashing them, I checked the chicken, which still had a few minutes to cook. I put the peas in the microwave and started that cycle, then started the process of mashing the potatoes.

Now, why was I making dinner?

Every Thursday was my day to make dinner, every other night my father and mother switched turns at making things, it was always something new they found on AllRecipes.com.

I usually found something new to do, but I made sure it was simple and I had the ingredients in the house so I wouldn’t have to go out and pick stuff up.

And tonight, I had settled on chicken, potatoes and peas. Not the most exciting, but it would have to do.

Once the potatoes were mashed to perfection, the peas were finished in the microwave and the chicken had cooked all the way through. I went to table and put the food on the plates, then checked my phone. One new message. Freya.

I'm on my way

Good. Finally. I smiled as I put my phone away and told my mom and dad the dinner was ready, then went outside and perched on the stairs. Once Freya’s father’s car drove up, I smiled like a moron and waved frantically. Her dad waved back, and Freya hopped out and skipped forward, until she was within reach. Then I pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek.

“Lovely of you to show up,” I said in a mock english accent as I pulled away from the embrace.

“Thoughtful of you to invite me,” she replied in the same accent.

“And thanks for texting or calling me back,” I said sarcastically in my normal voice. She smiled that silly smile of hers.

“I did text back,” she mumbled, reminded me of a kid who had just gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar. Possibly a child that had been caught with not only their hand in the cookie jar but also a silly smile that would’ve made the adult even more angrier.

“After I texted you 4 times and called twice. I was just about ready to hop in the car and start looking for you myself! What if something bad had happened to you?” I mocked and she rolled her eyes. We hooked arms and walked into the house. We sat at our traditional seats and talked about the things that we could about with my parents in the room. Which wasn’t the road trip, nor the drama at school with other people. The safe subjects were school sports’ events, future plans not including the trip; dream jobs and colleges.

We ended the dinner with an unhealthy serving of cheesecake each, which my mother had picked up just for tonight.

Once the dishes were cleaned off and put in the dishwasher, Freya and I went to my bedroom and plopped down on my bed. I slid the suitcase with my belongings in it under the bed with ease.

“So, excited?” I asked her and she made a weird face, a mix between indecisive about the idea and unsure about what she really wanted to say.

“A little, I guess,” she said truthfully.

“Come on girl! We’re not only graduating finally, but we’re going on the trip of our lives!” I exclaimed, then slapped my hands over my lips: an attempt to take the words back or quiet what had already been said, no parents were supposed to know, not until it was happening.

Freya giggled at my actions, and we both knew that neither one of my parents had heard what I had said, they were downstairs watching TV.

“We are going to be truly free for the first time in our lives Freya,” I whispered and widened my eyes to add effect. I was excited, this was exciting.