Status: in progress c:
My Mom and His Dad
Chapter One
“You’ll start your first day Wednesday.”
I’d just met my new school counselor and gotten my schedule. San Diego, California, huh? Seems pretty average so far.
“C’mon, dear, we have to get home and put together a list.” my mom said, leading me out of the school.
It was the end of the first day of the second semester for them. Kids of all kinds were rushing out of the halls and into the parking lot. I was trailing behind my mom when someone bumped into me.
“Damn, sorry, didn’t see you there.”
I turned and locked eyes with a Hispanic boy, about an inch shorter than me. I realized I was just staring like an idiot.
“O-Oh, yeah it’s fine.”
I turned and jogged to my mom’s car, getting in. That was really awkward. He was really damn cute, too. Why do I always fuck everything up?
“God, Kellin, you’re so embarrassing sometimes. You barely spoke to the principal or the counselor and then you go bumping into your new classmates.”
“Sorry, mom.” I replied, looking out the window.
We arrived home and I went to my room listing all of the supplies I needed. When I was just about done, my mom called me.
“Kellin! C’mon!”
Today was weigh-in day. I normally didn’t worry about it, but I’ve eaten a little too much. I even had ice cream last week. I’m so screwed. Weigh-in day was once a month, and if my mom didn’t like the results, she expected my weight to be back down in a week’s time.
I walked into my mom’s bathroom, stepping on the scale.
102 lbs
“Dammit, Kellin.” She sighed, walking away.
Well, there goes my food for the rest of the week. I have to be back to 98 by next Monday. She stayed at 95 because of my dad. He died last year in a plane crash. He was a health freak, and always nagged about her weight, so now it’s become an obsession. He wouldn’t hurt us physically, though, which surprised me until I asked him about it…
“You’re lucky I don’t beat the weight out of you. I can’t though because that would give you a way out of workouts.”
I shuddered at the thought. I hated him, but he was my dad, so I didn’t say anything. Now that he’s gone I’m left with my mom’s constant anxiety. She’s eaten the same exact routine meals for the past eight months. Two boiled eggs in the morning with orange juice, an apple for lunch and Caesar salad for dinner.
I, on the other hand, was just short of starving myself. I cheated every once in a while, but I tried not to. I went back to my room, finishing off my list and putting my headphones in. Within an hour, I was asleep.
I woke up the next morning at 7am. I got dressed, grabbed my list, and picked up my keys off the counter, heading out to my car. I drove to the store and got the things I needed, including a decent red beanie I found. My other one was still packed up and I wanted to wear one tomorrow. I filled the backseat with my belongings and headed back home. The rest of the day went by smoothly. I spent most of the morning organizing my things and the rest of my time was spent unpacking with my mom. By the time we’d finished with the kitchen and living room, it was about 9pm and I was exhausted.
“Go on to bed. You don’t want to look like crap on the first day.”
That’s what most of her goodnights and good mornings consisted of. A dry statement, which really translated to an insult.
“Kay, goodnight.”
I dragged myself to my room. I hadn’t eaten anything today and my stomach was growling in protest. I ignored it, plopping onto my bed and pulling the sheets over my face. I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Buzz-Buzz-Buzz-Buzz
I sat up, stretching my arms. Scratching my head, I walked to the bathroom and proceeded with my morning routine.
Shower, brush my teeth, put on some black skinnies with a V-neck, fix my hair, and pull on my Toms along with my beanie.
I grabbed my keys, my bag, and a banana, walking out the door and to my car.
I had about 15 minutes to get to school. Steering in one hand and eating with the other, I made it to the school with six minutes to spare. I hopped out, locking my car behind me and walked in. I noted the obvious cliques and made sure to steer clear of them. Taking my schedule and locker number out of my bag, I hastily walked through the hall. Found it. My locker was 242C. I put in the combination easily and shoved my end-of-the-day binders in, closing the door. Then I saw him. That Hispanic guy that I bumped into Monday was two lockers down, stuffing a textbook into it and closing its door. His eyes met mine and I gave him small smile. He walked up to me, smiling back.
“Hey, you’re new aren’t you?” he asked, eyeing me.
I nodded, “Yeah, I just moved here.”
“Where from?”
“Michigan.”
“Sooo, what’s your first class?” he questioned, just taking my schedule.
“Hey!”
He held up his finger.
“So, Kellin, we have two classes together – first and last. I’ll walk you to first hour.” he said, as the bell rang.
I’d just met my new school counselor and gotten my schedule. San Diego, California, huh? Seems pretty average so far.
“C’mon, dear, we have to get home and put together a list.” my mom said, leading me out of the school.
It was the end of the first day of the second semester for them. Kids of all kinds were rushing out of the halls and into the parking lot. I was trailing behind my mom when someone bumped into me.
“Damn, sorry, didn’t see you there.”
I turned and locked eyes with a Hispanic boy, about an inch shorter than me. I realized I was just staring like an idiot.
“O-Oh, yeah it’s fine.”
I turned and jogged to my mom’s car, getting in. That was really awkward. He was really damn cute, too. Why do I always fuck everything up?
“God, Kellin, you’re so embarrassing sometimes. You barely spoke to the principal or the counselor and then you go bumping into your new classmates.”
“Sorry, mom.” I replied, looking out the window.
We arrived home and I went to my room listing all of the supplies I needed. When I was just about done, my mom called me.
“Kellin! C’mon!”
Today was weigh-in day. I normally didn’t worry about it, but I’ve eaten a little too much. I even had ice cream last week. I’m so screwed. Weigh-in day was once a month, and if my mom didn’t like the results, she expected my weight to be back down in a week’s time.
I walked into my mom’s bathroom, stepping on the scale.
102 lbs
“Dammit, Kellin.” She sighed, walking away.
Well, there goes my food for the rest of the week. I have to be back to 98 by next Monday. She stayed at 95 because of my dad. He died last year in a plane crash. He was a health freak, and always nagged about her weight, so now it’s become an obsession. He wouldn’t hurt us physically, though, which surprised me until I asked him about it…
“You’re lucky I don’t beat the weight out of you. I can’t though because that would give you a way out of workouts.”
I shuddered at the thought. I hated him, but he was my dad, so I didn’t say anything. Now that he’s gone I’m left with my mom’s constant anxiety. She’s eaten the same exact routine meals for the past eight months. Two boiled eggs in the morning with orange juice, an apple for lunch and Caesar salad for dinner.
I, on the other hand, was just short of starving myself. I cheated every once in a while, but I tried not to. I went back to my room, finishing off my list and putting my headphones in. Within an hour, I was asleep.
I woke up the next morning at 7am. I got dressed, grabbed my list, and picked up my keys off the counter, heading out to my car. I drove to the store and got the things I needed, including a decent red beanie I found. My other one was still packed up and I wanted to wear one tomorrow. I filled the backseat with my belongings and headed back home. The rest of the day went by smoothly. I spent most of the morning organizing my things and the rest of my time was spent unpacking with my mom. By the time we’d finished with the kitchen and living room, it was about 9pm and I was exhausted.
“Go on to bed. You don’t want to look like crap on the first day.”
That’s what most of her goodnights and good mornings consisted of. A dry statement, which really translated to an insult.
“Kay, goodnight.”
I dragged myself to my room. I hadn’t eaten anything today and my stomach was growling in protest. I ignored it, plopping onto my bed and pulling the sheets over my face. I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Buzz-Buzz-Buzz-Buzz
I sat up, stretching my arms. Scratching my head, I walked to the bathroom and proceeded with my morning routine.
Shower, brush my teeth, put on some black skinnies with a V-neck, fix my hair, and pull on my Toms along with my beanie.
I grabbed my keys, my bag, and a banana, walking out the door and to my car.
I had about 15 minutes to get to school. Steering in one hand and eating with the other, I made it to the school with six minutes to spare. I hopped out, locking my car behind me and walked in. I noted the obvious cliques and made sure to steer clear of them. Taking my schedule and locker number out of my bag, I hastily walked through the hall. Found it. My locker was 242C. I put in the combination easily and shoved my end-of-the-day binders in, closing the door. Then I saw him. That Hispanic guy that I bumped into Monday was two lockers down, stuffing a textbook into it and closing its door. His eyes met mine and I gave him small smile. He walked up to me, smiling back.
“Hey, you’re new aren’t you?” he asked, eyeing me.
I nodded, “Yeah, I just moved here.”
“Where from?”
“Michigan.”
“Sooo, what’s your first class?” he questioned, just taking my schedule.
“Hey!”
He held up his finger.
“So, Kellin, we have two classes together – first and last. I’ll walk you to first hour.” he said, as the bell rang.