The 'Groomed'

The Texas air hung thick and humid, a stark contrast to the crisp Rhode Island breezes I’d left behind. My mom, a whirlwind of bright colors and boundless energy, practically skipped towards the waiting taxi, her heels clacking a quick tempo on the pavement. Dad and I trailed behind, moving at our own, much slower, pace.

“There’s the cab! Come on, Cathy!” she chirped, already halfway there. My dad just grunted, tossing our bags into the trunk as I slid into the back seat, pulling out my earphones. Music. My constant. My escape. The opening chords of MCR's 'Mama' filled my ears, a familiar comfort.

Fifteen songs later, the cab slowed. We had arrived at 'Faith Estates,' a quiet neighborhood filled with elderly residents and, now, our new two-story house. It was light gray with plenty of windows, a white front door, and a porch lined with rocking chairs. My new home. I stepped out, pulling my bag, and slowly walked up the steps. This was it. A new beginning, whether I wanted it or not.

My bed and dresser were already set up in my new room. I dumped my suitcase, throwing clothes into the dresser and setting up my laptop. Just as I settled in, my mom appeared in the doorway, a worried crease between her brows.

“Cathy? Um, you have school tomorrow. Cliffside High.” She explained the details, then sat on the bed beside me. “Oh, sweetie, don’t get sad!” She lifted my chin, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Everyone’s going to love you, I promise.”

“Mom, it’s just been hard,” I confessed, the shyness a heavy weight. “I had to leave my friends. And I am just so shy.”

She smiled, that bright, unwavering smile. “You’ll be fine. Now, get ready for bed. I love you!”

“Love you too,” I mumbled, already pulling on my PJs. I flopped into bed, closing my eyes, and tried to dream of a better tomorrow.