Living a Million Miles an Hour

"It will be a fresh start. Trust me, it cant be that bad" is what my mom told me when I was given the terrible news that I would be moving to Connersville, Indiana. It was bad enough my parents had just gotten divorced, now I had to move into the middle of nowhere with a grandmother I barely knew? I didn't want to move. I had a life, friends, and a somewhat boyfriend.

The wind was hitting my face and blowing through my short brown hair from the window of my mothers old new station wagon. Living in New York there was no need for a car because we had the subway. When my mom realized we'd need some form a transportation she just had to get the most generic type of car you'd expect for a single mother to get next to a mini van. Even though my earphones we're in on full volume, I could still hear the contemporary radio station play. My kid brother, Dylan was kicking my seat from behind.

"Cut it out!" I growled turning around in my seat as much as I could with my seat belt on.

"Or else what?" He dared glancing up from his DS.

"I'll hit you" I threatened, squinting my eyes.

"No you wont" He rolled eyes not impressed with my threat.

"Like hell I will"

"Get bent" he hissed sticking out his tongue.

Bent? Is that the new insult his generation came up with?

"Stop fighting! Alpa, turn around" My mom mediated.

Of course I was the one to get yelled at. I didn't even bother tell her that Dylan started it. That he was kicking the back of my seat. One of the many pains of being the older sibling meant that it was basically your fault all the time no matter what. You're oldest, supposedly more mature, and it's our duty to set an example. It was a shame I could careless.

"Are we there yet?" Dylan questioned for the hundredth time that minute.

"No," I grumbled and I hope we never do.

"We are here" My mom chirped.

Finally.

The house was just as I dully remembered. It was mainly white, with a big wrap around porch that had a swinging bench. The floor of the porch was a dark green that matched the shutters and front door. Standing there was my grandmother. I had only seen her twice in my life. The first time I had seen her was when I six years old after Dylan was born. Then when her husband, my grandfather, passed away we came for the wake and funeral when I was thirteen. It was last time my family visited her, until now.

Dylan was the first to hop out. I paused my music just to hear the end of grandmom's sentence

"-so much since the last time I saw you" she gushed. "How old are you now?"

"Eleven, almost twelve." Dylan happily reciprocated.

"Get out the car, Alpa" Mom ordered. Groaning, I dragged myself out of the beat up station wagon.

"And Alpa dear! You're so big. You definitely are a spitting image of your father" The old woman marveled. I get that a lot, that I look just like my dad. Thick, course brown hair that's hardly tamable. Ridiculously deep dimples, deep dark brown eyes that appear black even in the sunlight. Last, but totally my least favorite trait about myself that both my dad and I share is the brown freckles scattered across my body. Granted yes, I don't have that many but it's still annoying. A few here and there are scantly covering my legs, arms and torso. I just hate that I have exactly three of them in a triangle below my right eye. I was always jealous Dylan got the beautiful traits from mom. Straight blond hair, light blue eyes and porcelain ivory skin. I legit had the complexion of an almond.

"Hey, grandma," I said through clenched teeth while hugging the short wrinkly woman with white hair.

"C'mon and grab your bags so I can show you your rooms" Grandma had said. Dylan already had his bags and was walking up the steps of the porch. I wrapped my white earphones around cellphone as I turned on my conversed heels.

"Ouch!" I yelped grabbing the back of my arm where I was just pinched "What did I do?"

"Be nice" my mother warned giving me the death glare. I was being nice. I wouldn't have been here taking all of this shit if I didn't! It was then I wished I could have chosen to stay with my father. I didn't care if was a drunk or an addict, at least I'd still have my friends and somewhat boyfriend. Most importantly he wouldn't have pinched me.

"I will" I muttered and kept on my way to the trunk that contained my two cases. Before moving we had to cell a lot of our belongs to make our trip possible but a lot of stuff was to be mailed to us.

"Oi Cam, yah fag!" I heard a loud voice with a distinct accent I couldn't quite lay my finger on hollered "Get your ass in here we got work to do!" I looked over across the street where I heard the voice. In the yard stood a tall, lanky looking guy with shaggy brown hair "Be back in a second!" He yelled back opening the mailbox. I don't why I watched him thumb through his mail but I did.

"Alpa, hurry up dear!" Grandmom said standing on the porch. I looked around an realized my mom and brother were already inside.

"Coming!" I yelled back pulling my two suitcases out and closing the trunk. I don't know what provoked me to glance back, but once again I did.

The guy that was checking his mail was looking directly at me! He smiled and waved at me. I started to do the same until my grandmother called me again "I said I'm coming!" I glanced back at lanky guy who was walking back to his front door before his friend, presumably, called for him again as well. I creepily watched as he jogged back. Before he walked in he looked back were we made more eye contact. He smiled once more and waved again. I tried waving back but his door had already shut and I was just lifting my suitcase.