Moving

Mindi Leach

Moving

Since they stayed together so long for “the kids”, I have always assumed one parent would consider us, and stay in the district so we wouldn’t have to switch schools. But apparently that’s a little too much to ask for. Dad is planning to move out into one of his rental properties across town, and mom has decided to move us out by grandma, in the middle of nowhere.
Believe me the divorce was best for all of us. My parents didn’t love each other anymore and openly exclaimed that the only reason they were together was for the sake of me and my little sister, Charlotte. But even Charlotte, who mind you is only thirteen years old, knew that this divorce was the answer to our prayers. For as long as I can remember my sister and I would watch through the spindles of wood on the steps, and would hear everything from the stupid fights about mud on the floor from dad’s boots to the more serious one like the accusations of my mom’s affair with the bug man. It was a little creepy how often he was there when we got home from school, but he must have been doing his job because I never saw any bugs. Don’t get me wrong I love both of my parents, just not together.
Usually I would be thinking about Charlotte before worrying about myself, but in this case I know she’ll be fine. I, however, won’t be fine. I have always been really critical of myself. Ever since I can remember I have always been worried about what I look like. Sometimes I stare into a mirror examine everything I do. I have memorized what I look like doing everything and I’ll be honest with you I just look stupid. Since I know how awkward I look I constantly correct myself. I like to refer to it as my voice. I’m not crazy, but that voice follows me and makes doing anything uncomfortable. Imagine walking down the hall and simply smiling at someone only to be bombarded of a vision of how goofy you look. Believe me that will wipe the smile off your face!
If that isn’t bad enough for some reason when it comes to talking to other people I don’t feel normal. I feel like if I’m not criticizing myself whoever I am talking to is. No one has ever said anything, but I know they are. See I have this little problem I know what I want things to sound like when I say them, but the words never come out right. Probably because when I go to speak I get this tingly feeling all over and I can feel my cheeks warm to a light shade of pink. Not only my cheeks but these hideous big red blotches all over my chest area start emerging. I can see the focus of whoever I’m talking to go straight to my blotches. I know that’s what they’re looking at because there’s nothing else down there, yet, to look at.
“Mom? I can’t believe this, aren’t you concerned with the well being of your children?”
“Not really, babe! Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
“Ugh this is so stupid.”
“No, babe, you’re father is stupid. Blame him.” she returns to the obviously more important conversation she’s having on the phone.
She always calls me babe, when she’s trying to be an authority figure, I don’t think she has any idea how much I hate that. I also hate when she tells me to blame my father. He tried, he really did. There’s just no compromise with my mother! She is never happy. She’s always so stressed out. Even though she never seems to actually do anything other than sit on the phone with her friends all day. I love my mom; I shouldn’t say things like that.
“Charlotte! Where were you? I could have used a little back up in there with mom.”
“I’m sorry babe.” she chuckled; she knew how much I hated being called babe. “But you’re overreacting! You always tell me to see the best in a situation, and I don’t think you are trying.”
I absolutely can’t stand this little monster of knowledge. She’s right, and so damn smart. She is so confident. I think a lot of that comes from me. Even though I am a total geek on the outside I’m not all that awkward when you get to know me. I actually have some good advice on how to be cool. Charlotte doesn’t get nervous like I do.
“If I may ask, little Miss Brightside, what is the good in this situation?” I put my hand on my hip and slouch a little. Thankfully my little voice is here to remind me I look chubby when I do this so I readjust my stance.
“Come on, Heidi, who will you really miss when we move? And…”
As much as I want to keep listening to the wisdom of my thirteen year old sister, I drift off into my own thoughts. Who would I miss? Sure those bitches at school are finally learning my name thanks to a few rumors I spread about myself. Who wouldn’t want to know a girl who’s getting breast implants? I wouldn’t miss anyone.
Her perfectly pink lips are still moving, and her long golden hair that I fix every morning, looks the same way it did before I left for school. So wise beyond her years and cool. Thanks to me of course. Charlotte was right. There is a bright side to us moving. She knows just as well as I do that this is the fresh start that I need; a chance to be myself instead of this shy backwards loser. She concludes her long argument with the words that I am simultaneously muttering in my head “You can be who you really are for once.”
I really love this little person sitting on my bed with me. She’s my best friend. It is so crazy how awesome she is. If only I had been more confident and smart when I was her age, I wouldn’t be so weird now. My thoughts are cut short by the vibrating of a phone on my bed we both grab for our phones tangled in my comforter.
“It’s mine!”
Of course it’s hers. It is always hers. She vigorously starts tapping away at the keys on her phone. I know she is thirteen with a phone; I didn’t get a cell phone until I was sixteen. But there’s no time to worry about that. I can’t help but think about who I’m going to be when we switch schools. I don’t know if I want to be the smart girl with a wild side, or the bitchy popular girl who all the boys like. I have this entire section in my closet of clothes I never wear. Mostly, because they’d flaunt my red blotches if someone were to speak to me. I can do this. I start hanging the clothes that are bunched up in the corner of my room, may as well since moving will require me to do so anyway.
“Charrrrrrrrrrrlotte?”
Off she runs to answer the angry sound of my mother’s cry. That’s the only time that girl moves fast. I know nothing is seriously wrong, so there’s no need for me to run out and save her from a tongue lashing. Mom has a different tone for when she needs help and when she’s mad.
For the first time in years I can see the bottom of my closet. I close the closet door only to see the mirror that hangs on the back of the door. I’m faced with my reflection. The positive feeling that briefly filled my heart about moving goes fluttering away and now all I’m left with is this pit in the bottom of my stomach that I am all too familiar with.
I look at myself and see the same thing I usually try to avoid. The person I see in the mirror isn’t the same person who can go to a new school, and be herself, whoever that is. How could I think for one second that a new school will fix these things? Even at a new school there will still be these annoying blotches, minor stutter and this voice bearing down on me all the time. Half the reason I am so nervous when I talk to other people is because of this stupid voice in my head reminding me of what I look like when I make that face or say that word. GO AWAY! I squint my eyes to hold back my tears and rest my head on the closet door. Great, have a fight with yourself psycho.
Charlotte walks in still texting on her phone. Even though I was having an argument with myself I still heard mom ask her to clean the sitting room.
“Everything ok?”
“I can’t do this. We can’t move. I can’t go to a new school. I just want to stay here and go on the way things are.”
I feel my sister kneel down behind me. She twirls my hair and I can’t hold it back anymore. My eyes start welling up with tears. I hate the way I look when this happens. I try and hold back my tears with every ounce of strength I have but they just keep coming. Now for the next couple hours my eyes will be blotchy, swollen and red; my voice on one of its rampages.
“Yes, you can. We can do it together.”
I have to smile at the little monster. “We can do it together” is the same thing I say to her every time she feels bad.
“We won’t really be together. You won’t be walking down the hallways beside me, making everything ok. I’ll be left alone to defend myself to a bunch of new kids. At least I can blend in now. I won’t be able to hide at a new school.”
“Heidi, you don’t really want to blend in. I know you want to be open and be yourself and here is your chance.”
“I CAN’T!!!”
I never told anyone about the voice in my head that bears down on me all the time. But I knew now was time to tell Charlotte.

Today is going to be the first day at my new school. I’m scared and excited at the same time. Charlotte isn’t nervous; at least I can’t tell if she is. I have finally decided on an outfit to wear. I had to make sure it would cover my blotches because I’m sure people will be talking to me and asking who I am.
“Girls, hurry up! You’re going to miss your busses.”
It had only been a month since we moved to the middle of nowhere. We are just now switching schools because mom thought it would be better to finish out the quarter before switching. Surprisingly not too much has changed without my dad around. I have only talked to my dad once on the phone and that was the day after we got here. I sent him an Email a couple weeks ago but he didn’t respond. I used to think highly of my father but lately the comments I used to hate hearing rang true. It’s funny how being away from someone for a period of time can change your entire view of them.
The day before we moved here my sister came up with this crazy plan to leave my “voice” behind. She was so weird that day, way weirder than I have ever been. She lit candles in a circle around a jar. She actually had me pretend to take the voice out of my head and put it in the jar. She sealed it up with a whole roll of duct tape and we left it in my old closet.
I must admit I am feeling much more confident than I ever did before. But I am still planning to blend in today. I’m just not ready to make friends yet. I’m going to attempt to eat lunch in the bathroom. It’s really hard to balance this tray on my legs and eat at the same time, but it’s better than sitting with a bunch of people I don’t know. The sound of my fork hitting the ground makes my day complete. There it is on the floor almost in the other stall. My attention is drawn away from my fork when I see a cute pair of pink converse gym shoes in the stall next to me.
“Hey, who is that?”
“Um, my- my name is Heidi.”
I think it’s awkward that she’s asking me questions but who am I to judge what’s awkward I am eating pizza and corn in a bathroom stall.
“Oh, Heidi, you just moved here right?”
“Yes, about a month ago but today is my first day in school.”
My skin is tingling and I can feel my face warming to the pink shade of embarrassment like it usually does. I look down and I notice that her pink shoes are tapping and moving around as if spelling out every word she was saying. I think she is nervous too.
“Did you by any chance grab an extra pepper packet?”
“No, but would you like me to go get one with you? It’s a little difficult to eat my corn without a fork.”
“Sure”
I know I’m still weird but as we walk down the hall laughing and talking I feel normal, and I know I am going to be happy here.