"I could have sworn I already took out that blaste trash. Oh well." I shrugged and looked back quickly as I hurried back into my familiy's house away from the pouring rain. Out of the corner of my eye I couldn't help but notice the bin bag next to the bin.
I stepped through the door and nothing much has changed since I left about 15 minutes ago. Except that my parents were standing right next to the table nearest to to me. Their faces didn't show the brightest of expressions. In their hands were luggage.
"Um, is there a problem?" I asked.
"Yes there is a problem, Flask. We have to move and now." Mum answered.
A bad sign I've learned the hard way is when she speaks before Dad.
"Why do we need to move and what do you mean now?" I inquired, confused.
"We'll tell you later, Flask."
That was over 8 years ago. And I'm still in the dark about that.
"So let me get this right?... We're moving.. AGAIN?" I say, my finger still hovering over the 'D' on my keyboard.
"Yes, Flask." Mom nods her head.
"For the last time Mom, can you please call me DJ?"
"Dont ever talk to me like that! I swear, being in America for so long has changed you Flask." she barks and rubs her hand that she used to hit me with.
"Ow." is my only comment since my cheek is now stinging.
"DJ, what did I say about talking to your mother like that?" my Dad's voice comes from his and Mom's shared rooms.
"Sorry Dad." I drawl, not really caring at the moment.
"Flask! Are you listening to a word I am telling you?" Mom yells in the far corners of my mind but my brain has functioned to consintrate on my music.
"..Hmm..hmmm..huh..hmm.. Oh what Mom?" I look up finally.
She was apparently half-sentence before I interrupted her.
She glares then sighs, "Yes, we're moving again. Somewhere less high-stantdard."
"Why? What's wrong with high-standard?" I ask. I personally dont think anything's wrong with high-standard. Especially my awesome schools. My elementary school was the best, I made tons of friends and un-wanted girlfriends there. Now I'm in 7th grade in the nearby middle school. My teachers are the most compassionate and nicest ones probably on the planet.
Actually I have to take back the 7th grade. I WAS in 7th grade but right now it's Summer but aparently now I'm unofficially offically in 8th grade. Sounds good to me. Also I never noticed how TINY 6th graders are to 7th graders. We must be giants to them. I can only imagine how small they will appear when I'm in 8th. I'll probably need a microscope.
This snaps me out of my brief daydream.
"Yes mom?" I answer, not tearing my eyes from my computer screen.
"Just promise me you'll give this new place a try." she has the most tired and sad look in her eyes. I suddenly feel really bad and comply in a more orderly attitude.
"Yes, Mom. Love you."
She smiles then pats my leg, "Get ready."