Karma

I never enjoyed any party my parents threw. They were usually business parties/dinners – the house crawling with business partners of my dad’s or half-mental patients of my mom’s – but on the rare occasions it was a family gathering, that was much worse. Don’t get me wrong, Most of my family was tolerable – like my Aunt Darcy who always brings homemade chocolate chip cookies and only lectures me on the importance of maintaining my weight after my second one – and some of them were even likeable – like Aunt Darcy’s estranged daughter, Ella, who told her mom to fuck off anytime she mentioned weight and shoved more food in her mouth just to piss her off. But the rest of them are judgmental and criticize every little thing you do. They don’t care about your reasoning or the circumstances and they don’t care that it’s simply none of their business; they just like voicing their useless opinion because they think they’re Jesus himself and know what’s best for everybody.

This party was put together due to me getting ready to attending a boarding school in Seattle (approximately four hours away from Lincoln Heights, according to Google Maps). It wasn’t like I was being “sent away” and it wasn’t a bad school – it was an elite boarding school that was not cheap – but my family saw it as me throwing my life away. They saw it as me giving up my social status (“But you’ve got so many friends here and everybody loves you!”) and, around here, that was your first priority.

“What about your role as the cheer captain? Are you going to be the captain at this new school?” Aunt Lily – my father’s wonderful sister – questioned, her neatly done eyebrows raising in concern.

“I’ve actually decided to focus on my grades more, so I’m giving up cheering,” I answered, focusing my attention on the lipstick stain on the wine glass rather than her prying eyes.

“Yes, her grades were dropping dramatically this first quarter and, after we all talked about it, we decided that a cheerleading team comes second to her schooling,” Dad interjected in a stern tone, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “She can’t get into a proper school without proper grades.”

“But when I was in school, I was head cheerleader while I maintained a 4.0 GPA, it isn’t that hard,” she responded, a holier-than-thou tone to her voice.

I bit the inside of my lip, biting back a retort. “Excuse me,” I said as politely as I could before walking away from them. I spotted Bentley slouched on the couch, his Nintendo DS in hand. I walked over and took a seat next to him, watching the intense racing game he was currently engulfed in.

“Really?” he groaned as a car crashed into his, causing him to flip. He angrily shut the game before dropping it onto the end table beside him. “That game’s so stupid,” he complained.

I laughed, recalling how excited he was when he finally got enough money to buy it. “Practice makes perfect,” I advised, ruffling his hair. It was a dirty blonde and extremely wavy, now long enough to brush his shoulders. “I think you need a haircut, bud.”

“I’m old enough to decide when I need a haircut and when I don’t, thank you very much,” he argued, pushing my arm away. He shoved his hair out of his eyes, only for it to fall right back in place.

I knew the only reason he didn’t want it cut is because that’s what mom and dad wanted and he was going through what mom called a “rebellious phase” but I didn’t mention it. “I know. You’re nine years old now, you’re practically old enough to move out of the house,” I mused.

“You mean like what you’re doing?” he shot.

I pursed my lips. So this is why he’s been extra grumpy lately. “Bentley, I’m not moving out. I’ll be back for Thanksgiving break and Christmas break and Easter break,” I listed off. “I’ll be here so much you’ll be glad for the times that I’m gone.”

“Yeah, right,” he said doubtfully. Despite our seven year age difference, Bentley and I got along well. Sure, we fought like any other siblings, but I actually enjoyed spending time with him most of the time. He’d come to me for homework help and he’d even started coming to me for girl advice. “I’ll be here all alone, with no one to talk to.”

“You’ll have Mae,” I joked, nudging his arm with my elbow. He rolled his eyes. Mae was three years old and had a passionate interest in Barbie dolls, so they didn’t have much to bond over. “Look, I’ll be sure to call you every chance I get and we can talk then. It’ll be like I’m still here.”

“But you won’t actually be here,” he grumbled.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, don’t spend your last day with me all grumpy and yelling at racecar games,” I told him. “Here, how about we get through this party and then once it’s over, we’ll go through the leftover food and have a Harry Potter marathon tonight, okay?” I bargained, holding my hand out for him to shake.

Bentley was quiet for a few seconds, just staring at my hands. Finally, he held my hand, shaking it. “Deal,” he concluded. “And we’re watching them until I get tired.”

I laughed. “Deal,” I agreed.

As we parted our hands, a loud tapping noise came from the top of the stairs. Everybody stopped and turned their attention, me included. It was my mom with a wine glass full of apple juice in one hand and a spoon in the other. “Thank you, everybody, for coming here tonight to bid Poppy farewell,” she began and I could practically hear the tears forming in her eyes from the other side of the room. “I hate that she’s going to have to be away from home for the next few months but she feels this is best for her, so we’re right on board behind her.” I rolled my eyes, not being able to contain my smile. Mom’s therapist usually made an appearance in dramatic situations.

As she continued her speech, I let my eyes wander along with my mind. I wasn’t 100% sure that this was the answer to my problems. There was this annoying, nagging voice in the back of my head that was telling me I should stay and work everything out rather than running to Seattle and starting over. It was the same voice telling me that I didn’t want to leave my family. I wouldn’t miss dad’s rude comments or mom’s attempts of getting inside my head, but I’d miss mostly everything else.

But when my eyes met a pair of smug, blue eyes, I knew I was making the right decision. Mr. Anderson was involved in a lot of business with my father and Trent had a lot of opportunities to come along to business gathering, something I’m sure he wouldn’t pass up if I stuck around.

I kept my eyes locked with his, trying to show him that I didn’t care. That they didn’t affect me and this wasn’t because of them; this was only a step in me trying to become successful. But I’d never been a good liar and I knew that they knew that this was me running from them. And I’ll be damned if they didn’t pride themselves on that fact. But I wasn’t going to let them control my life anymore. I was going to a new school with a new slate surrounded by new people. I was getting a chance to start over and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

So when my mom held her glass up in a toast, I grabbed the nearest glass to me and held it up as well, high and confidently.