"Yay! We're at Oakridge, Kiki. We're here!" I clapped my hands together, a wide grin spreading across my face. Kiara mirrored my excitement, her eyes lighting up as we nodded at each other, silently sharing the same thought: This is going to fix us.
Dad, however, quickly brought us back to reality. "I said we're headed there, guys. Still got like fifteen minutes left," he clarified, glancing at the GPS. I shrugged, my anticipation not waning. We were close, but I knew there was still a lot to be done. Reaching the house was a crucial step in the plan. I couldn't afford to mess this up.
Just then, Mom stirred awake, likely due to the speed bumps we had hit a few minutes ago. "Are we there yet?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"Is there a school? How am I going to study?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned. I shrugged nonchalantly, knowing it wasn't my concern. At seventeen, I was just months away from adulthood and leaving for college. These eleven months in the new house were vital for the ritual I needed to perform. If I had to, I'd give everything, even my life, to make it happen.
"We found a school in the nearby town," Dad explained. "It's a few miles away, so you'll probably have to go by bike. We'll buy you a new one. It's good exercise for you. And for you too, Trish; it's a good high school, so we'll enroll you there when we get settled."
"Oh wow, you didn't even enroll us yet. What a great start to our journey," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Mom glared at me, her expression a mixture of frustration and regret.
"Well, you're right. I'm sorry, son. We'll figure out how to get you enrolled as soon as possible," she apologized, her voice tinged with an unusual softness.
"Too late for a sorry," I retorted with a sarcastic laugh. I noticed her jaw tighten as she clenched her teeth.
Dad, sensing the rising tension, tried to diffuse the situation. "Well, you guys don't need to worry about school just yet. It's summer vacation, so we have plenty of time to assess our situation and get you enrolled. It'll be fine, guys," he said, attempting to inject some optimism.
But Mom wasn't having it. "No, Trish thinks I'm not a good parent. He's always complaining about the way I do things. I don't feel appreciated at all," she said, her voice breaking, sounding dangerously close to tears.
I couldn't believe it—crocodile tears, right in front of Dad and Kiara.
"Wow, you don't feel appreciated? I'm the one who doesn't even get acknowledged! Do you know how much hate I got from that social media outrage? I couldn't leave the house for weeks, but you forced me to go out!" I shot back, my voice rising with every word.
Mom's eyes narrowed, her expression shifting to one of hurt and disbelief. "So you're saying it's my fault you got into that situation? You faked dying in front of me, lied to me, gaslit me for a prank, and now you're blaming me for being concerned like a mother should? What a horrible thing to say, Trish!" She sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"What's Mom talking about?" Kiara asked, her voice small and filled with concern. She looked between us, trying to understand the gravity of the conversation.
The car was thick with tension, the air practically crackling with unspoken accusations and unresolved issues. This was supposed to be our fresh start, but already, the cracks in our family were starting to show. And I couldn't help but wonder if this move would really fix anything at all.