“Sweetheart, put this in the car too,” my mother says to Dad.
It’s been at least an hour that Mom keeps grabbing things to put in the car, as if we were moving to another continent.
My mother is all excited; she loves the sea, while my father has the expression of someone who might as well just kill me, please.
I chuckle watching them. “Mom, we’re only going to the beach for one day, not for a month.”
She looks at me condescendingly while putting another bag in the car. “Yes, but what about the umbrella? And the deck chairs? And the towels? Let’s not forget the lunch, the drinks, the sunscreen so we don’t catch fire, the cards to pass the time, the flip-flops so our feet don’t burn, a spare swimsuit in case you lose a piece in the water, and I hope that doesn’t happen because it’s embarrassing. Then there’s also the straw hat for taking cute pictures, then you have to bring sung
“Woman, do you have any food?” I approach my mother, who immediately throws a towel in my face, along with some sand.I start rubbing my eyes, trying to get the sand off, and at some point, my dad shows up with a bucket full of water and dumps it on my face.My eyes burn even more since it was sea saltwater, so I start feeling around for my backpack, grab a bottle of water, and my towel to clean my eyes.I feel like they wanted to kill me, I swear. Now my eyes will be so red it’ll look like I just smoked a joint.I glare at the people who are supposed to be my parents, but right now they’re acting like two serial killers. “You know there’s another room for the baby in the house, so there’s no need to kill me to make space.”My dad makes a puppy-eyed face. “But I was just trying to save you; it’s your mother who’s the serial killer.”I blink a couple of times.But
I let my head drop onto the desk surface, now resigned to the idea of understanding anything.“I want to know who invented math,” I murmur, disheartened.I've been sitting in my room for at least two hours trying to do homework, but I don’t understand anything.Out of twelve expressions I've worked on, only two were correct.The most ironic thing is that on the last day of school, the teachers bid farewell to the students saying, “Have a good vacation and have fun. Make sure to do your homework.”It’s a unique contradiction.Or you get the teacher who, since June of the year before, couldn’t wait for the vacations to come back, and therefore says goodbye to everyone by saying, “See you in September, you little brats!”Well, my chemistry teacher was part of the second category and, thank God, he refused to give us any summer homework. His justification was, “Then I’ll have to check th
“So, Brianna, do you have a boyfriend?” It’s been about fifteen minutes since Mrs. Porter and I have been chatting.Or rather, she keeps asking me questions while I keep answering, hoping to escape as soon as possible.“Good, good, the boyfriend is with someone else!” I hope that by using my terrible jokes, Mrs. Porter will stop inviting me to her house.Now that I think about it… what is Mrs. Porter’s first name?I have no idea.It’s almost normal talking to her when she’s not rambling on about her husband.“Did you see Mike? What did I tell you? Boys today aren’t as faithful as they used to be.”Scratch that.Then she turns to me. “You know, Brianna? Before I met Mike, I was with a guy I thought was really the love of my life. And do you know what he did?”Someone please pull me out of this conversation.I shake my head in denial.
I'm comfortably lying on my bed, face down with my legs bent in the air, and I have no idea what to do.Today I was only supposed to work in the morning, and now I’m just bored.My parents have come in at least twice each, saying that instead of lying around doing nothing, I could do my homework. It goes without saying that I laughed every time.I decide to text Carly since, now that I think about it, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. Apparently, I’ve been too caught up with the Reid family.I try to video call her, but she doesn’t answer, and after about thirty seconds, I hang up. I try several more times, but she never picks up.How strange; Carly is usually glued to her phone.Then I check the time and realize it’s the middle of the afternoon, and it’s summer.Carly is probably sleeping.I look around for something to do, and my gaze lands on the computer.If this
I stretch out on the table to grab the bottle of wine and fill my glass, then down the contents in one go.I can’t go on without alcohol.This dinner has gone downhill.Paul and my dad are talking about soccer, or basketball, or football; I’m not quite sure which sport they’re discussing, and they’re practically shouting.Julie and my mom are talking about cooking, and my mom is bragging about how good she is at making apple pie, the very pie that I made.Skyler couldn’t come because she’s sick, and Connor is at a friend’s house.James hasn’t put his phone down for even two seconds, and I’m deeply bored.At one moment when we were all distracted, Aisha grabbed Paul’s beer bottle and took a sip, and I think she got drunk because she started laughing nonstop, so Julie made her drink some water and managed to get her to fall asleep.But can kids get drunk?Maybe she&
«Ho un'idea!» esclama James, alzandosi a sedere di scatto sul mio letto.Alzo la testa dal cuscino. «E sarebbe?»Mette una mano sul mio braccio e inizia a scuotermi come una pignatta. «Organizziamo un pizza party!» urla.Stacco la sua mano dal mio braccio e gli lancio un'occhiata assassina. «Smettila di scuotermi, non sono una pignatta.»«Scusa» farfuglia. «Comunque», riprende a parlare, «organizziamo un fantastico pizza party. Io, tu, Connor e Sky» propone. «Tu che ne pensi?» mi chiede.Faccio finta di pensarci su, anche se so già la risposta, e poi mi alzo d
"She can't die. If only she hadn't acted so rich and had eaten less, they would both have been on that piece of wood." Sobbing.James looks at me in shock. "You can't be serious! She's not fat; you're just saying that because the guy is hot," he retorts.I glare at him. "Regardless of how beautiful young Leonardo DiCaprio is, that piece of wood from the ship was big enough for both of them, and not just Rose, so Jack could have been saved."James scoffs. "If Jack had climbed on, the piece of wood would have sunk, and they would both have drowned. It's better that only Jack died, rather than both of them."I open my mouth, deeply shocked by what he said, and I throw a cushion right in his face. "Do you want to see how I drown you, huh? Jack didn’t deserve to die! Hot or not!" I sob loudly.Carly turns to me, and I see that her mascara is running under her eyes from crying. "You're right, Bry, Jack didn't deserve to die. Rose was cruel
JAMESI feel something violently hit my ribs, and my breath catches in my throat.I moan in pain and turn to the other side, but it doesn’t help, as now I’m struck in the back.Oh my God, I can’t feel my spine anymore.I feel an arm hit my head, attempting to stretch out, and then it ends up on my neck, choking me and blocking my ability to breathe and live.Oh no, no.What kind of shitty wake-up is this?I grab the wrist and jerk the arm away from my neck, taking a deep breath afterward, but then I’m hit in the head again, and now I have an arm on my shoulder.I glare at the arm and huff in annoyance, then I push it away and turn back to see who is trying to take my life.Bad idea.As soon as I position myself on my right side, I’m hit by a mass of very light hair that prevents me from seeing anything.Some hair gets in my mouth, so I spit a bit and move it asid
December 15thJeremy“Wow, so many elves!” Aisha looks excited.The room is filled with people dressed as elves. I’m not sure I still like elves, not after they ate my cereal and tried to dunk my toothbrush in the toilet.“There are so many people,” I say, watching the line of people in front of us. James and Brianna brought us to Santa’s house, and now we’re waiting in line to tell him what we want for Christmas.“Lots of kids want to see Santa,” Brianna says, running a hand through my hair.“Why are we waiting in line when we could just wait for him at home by the fireplace?” That way, we could eat chocolate chip cookies and drink milk together—hoping the elves don’t steal my cookies.“Because this way, he can hear what you want today and then bring it to you on Christmas by coming through the chimneys,&rdqu
December 14thJames and I walk into his parents' house. The first to greet us is Julie, her arms wide open, ready for a hug. "There's my favorite person!"James steps ahead of me, arms spread for his mom, but she brushes past him and comes straight to hug me.I suppress a laugh at James’s offended, indignant expression—his arms still outstretched in disbelief. "Hi, Mom. It's so nice to know you care about me."Julie lets me go
𝟏𝟑 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫One of my fondest childhood memories during the Christmas season is the tradition of the elf. My parents used to tell me that Santa sent little helpers around the world to check if kids were being good or bad. If they behaved, the elf would leave a small gift, but if they were naughty, the elf would play tricks on them. These elves stayed in our house for almost all of December: during the day, they were lifeless dolls watching over us; at night, they came alive and acted. When I discovered none of it was true and it was my parents leaving the gifts or playing pranks, my heart broke. But I still remember the joy of those moments, which is why I played along when my parents told the story of the elves to Jeremy, once he was old enough to understand.Tonight, my brother is staying over at our house again, and the job James and I have is to make the elf "come alive." My mom let me know Jeremy didn’t behave well today, so we get to tap
December 12I toss the first bag of popcorn into the microwave and grab two giant bowls.Carly has organized a girls' movie night at her place. We each wrote the name of a movie on a slip of paper, drew one, and landed on Titanic. Though I strongly suspect we all wrote down the same film.“Why don’t we try making caramel popcorn?” Skyler asks, looking at us expectantly.“Skyler, darling, have you forgotten who you’re dealing with? I once burned pasta because I fell asleep while cooking. Let alone making caramel. Or any popcorn that doesn’t come out of a microwave.”A ding interrupts us.“Speaking of popcorn, it’s ready!” I exclaim, taking the first bag and emptying it into a bowl before popping the second bag into the microwave.“Yes, but Brianna took a cooking class. She can make food without burning it now,” Skyler says, trying to
December 11I roll onto my left side, curling up and bringing my knees to my chest. I adjust the comforter snugly under my chin and hug my legs. Closing my eyes, I pray the pain subsides quickly. Another cramp pierces through my lower abdomen.I feel a hand touch my shoulder.“How are you feeling?” James’s voice echoes in my mind.I don’t even turn to look at him.“Shh, don’t shout. My head’s splitting.”“I’ll take that as a ‘terrible,’ then,” he whispers.I grimace, even though he can’t see me. Terrible is an understatement.“Would you prefer some tea or hot chocolate?” He continues whispering while his hand sinks into my hair, massaging my scalp.I sigh in relief. “Tea.”I hear him get up from the bed.“Could you bring the hot water bottle too?”He kis
December 10thJamesI rub my eyes, feeling the burn. I’ve spent the last few hours working on the computer, and all I want to do now is relax with Brianna. I shut down my laptop, close it, and leave it on the desk in the study. Heading downstairs to the living room, where I last saw my girlfriend, I’m met with silence. I crane my neck and glance toward the kitchen, but it’s empty. Frowning in confusion, I run a hand through my hair, pushing back the strands that fall over my eyes.“Brianna?”I wait a few seconds, but there’s no response. Rounding the couch, I finally understand the rare tranquility in the house.And for once, it doesn’t foreshadow any disaster.Brianna is lying on the couch, fast asleep. Her expression is so serene it worries me. I step closer, placing two fingers on her neck to check if she’s still alive, and let out a sigh of relief wh
December 9thIf there’s one thing certain about my family, it’s that normality is definitely not for us. Especially when it comes to exchanging Christmas gifts. Why give serious things like underwear or socks when you can give quirky, out-of-the-ordinary, and morally questionable gifts? The beauty of having a family that is anything but uptight or close-minded is the ability to have fun without worrying about shocking or offending anyone. In fact, I used to be the one who was scandalized. Then I outgrew that phase.Ever since my cousin Jase and I started having our own money, exchanging gifts on Christmas Day has taken on a new meaning. In our family, we don’t compete to see who gives the most expensive gift but rather who gives the funniest one. Jase and I give gifts together, and every year we win the award for the best presents.Today's mission: come up with ideas so we know exactly what to buy.Technically,
December 8I close the front door after greeting the delivery driver. A couple of weeks ago, I used an app to print some photos, and they’ve finally arrived today. One of the things I miss most about living with my parents is flipping through the family photo albums every now and then. There are so many iconic pictures of me as a child, and I make sure my brother has his too because looking at them as adults is just amazing.I plan to make albums to keep in this house with photos of James and me, but he hasn’t even chosen his yet.I sit on the couch next to my boyfriend and show him the box in my hand. “Guess what I have here!”James glances at the package. “I hope there are embarrassing pictures of you on the potty because it’s not fair that you’ve seen mine and I haven’t seen yours.”“Point number one: It’s not my fault your parents didn’t grant you
December 7thI step into the house, leaving my jacket and shoes at the entrance. I greet James and head toward the kitchen, hiding my purchase behind my back. "Guess what I bought?"James is leaning against the counter, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. "Tell me it’s not another Christmas decoration," he pleads."Nope, better," I say, sitting at the table. "I bought a house."He chokes on his drink. "You bought what?"I snicker at his expression. "A house. I bought a house, not 'what'.""You... You bought... How... With what money..." He takes a deep breath, sets the cup on the counter, and sits across from me at the table. "Brianna, I think you owe me a few more details." He’s so shocked that he’s gone a little pale.At that point, I place my new purchase in front of us, revealing a gingerbread house kit to assemble and decorate.James looks at me, then at the box, and back to me. He&rsqu