Not the American Average

The next morning I woke up to my mother shaking me awake and telling me to get up. I looked over at my alarm clock and it was seven in the freaking morning. Why in the hell was my mother waking me up so early? I stretched out in my bed and grabbed my phone, looking to see if I had any notifications, which I did. It said that I had a message from Carla Brighton. I opened my Facebook app, but my phone was rudely taken away from me by my mother.

"We're meeting the family up at Ryan's for breakfast. Get your ass moving or your chances of going to this concert of yours is getting slimmer and slimmer." She says, placing my phone back in my hand after locking it back.

I grumbled out at her and walked over to my closet, looking for something to wear. To attempt to get my chances higher for the concert I would dress in a very girly top which was a turquoise blue and a pair of white shorts, something I normally wouldn't wear unless I was trying to get on my mothers good side. I looked down at my thighs and frowned at their size, wishing that they were smaller and I almost decided on putting on a pair or Bermuda's or pants, but my mom called me out of my room, so I didn't have time to change.

Walking down the hallway and into the living room my mothers face lit up as she saw that I was wearing something that she agreed on. I pat my pockets quickly to see if I grabbed my phone, not remembering if I had, and felt it in my left front pocket. I walked out of the house and down the porch steps to my fathers truck and placed myself in my normal seat. Behind the passenger where I was most comfortable. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and reopened my Facebook app, waiting for it to load. Since I wasn't connected to our Wi-Fi anymore, it took too long for my liking and I ended up grumbling about my phone being a piece of shit. Fortunately my parents still weren't out, so they couldn't hear the curse word leave my mouth. As the app began to load, my parents got into the truck and started asking me questions.

"Did you get anyone to answer you on the concert last night? I saw that you posted up on Facebook ." My mom asks, being the nosy ass person she is.

I huff before thinking up my reply, which I actually had no idea what it was. The app was taking forever to load and I couldn't access my messages so the world may never know.

"I was trying to find out earlier when you took my phone from and now I'm trying to, but because I'm not connected to Wi-Fi it takes a while for the app to load. Finally!" I yell out as the app loads and I see that I have a message.

I click the message and see that it really is from Carla Brighton. I grunt and start to read it.

Hi Amelia. I'd totally love to go to an Asking Alexandria concert with you. They are like one of my bands ever! I'll even pay for my ticket and drive myself there. We just have to meet up. My parents won't let me go without having someone else go with me, and it seems to me that you are in the same situation, so we can help each other out. Write me back when you get this so we can make plans. Thanks, Carla!

More like fuck you Carla. I was just joking about the biggest slut in school coming with me to the concert. She will literally ruin everything. I mean I can just imagine it now. She'd be walking up to Ben and be like, "Hi Ben, I know you just got married and all but I'm really experienced and really, really want to have sex with you." She makes me sick.

"Did someone reply to you, Amelia?" Mom asks me, hope written in her eyes.

She really does want me to go, but she doesn't want me to be alone. She knows I can take care of myself, but she also knows that the world can be cruel and anything can happen.

"Yeah, Carla Brighton replied to me on Facebook." I say, scrunching up my nose in hate.

She looks at me with worry in her face and then confusion.

"Isn't she like the school slut?" She asks with a knowing look as she asks the question.

"She was last year, but I'm not so sure about this year. There wasn't that much talk about her going around screwing boys two grades below her and well I really want to go to this concert, so I'll take anything I can get. Can I please go with her?" I plead with my mother.

She sighs and nods her head, with a look of worry written all over her face. You have nothing to be worried about over me. Maybe Carla, that is, but definitely not me. We pulled into Ryan's and my cousins came running over to the truck as we parked. I smiled at them as we piled out of the truck and walked into the restaurant to eat the breakfast buffet. Before I made my breakfast I had to write back Carla.

Hey Carla! I would love to go to the concert with you! My parents said it was okay to go with you and now all we have to do is buy the tickets. Good luck and I guess I'll see you at the concert! Thanks! Amelia