HOME | DD

Description
Chapter One- Extended Misery

Florida sucked, even though I had lived there my whole life, things were different know. Since the economy sucked worse in Florida anyway, my mother and I, (mainly my mother) had decided to move somewhere more affordable. Massachusetts was fixed in our gaze at the moment.

Of course I had friends in Florida, but I was willing to let them go, even though I would be put to my misery later on. Just the look on each individual face when I told them made me feel sorry, a look of shock and loneliness is what they gave off. I never had any real family in Florida, let alone the whole entire world. My parents got divorced when I was twelve, and now four years later ,I’m still taking it well. I never liked my father anyways, yet my mom’s a nag.

Before moving, I had the option of either moving to Massachusetts, or Oregon, where my father lived. Oregon sounded fun, but I wouldn’t be caught dead with my father in a million years. He disliked me, and I hated him. Yes, it’s very disrespectful to say that to your parent, but I don’t give a damn.

“Doon, this will be fun, trust me.” She would always say to me

“Mom, I’m happy, don’t worry.” I would say back, repeatedly, every day. Even though somewhere in my gut, there was a gentle pulsating telling me that it was all a lie and that I never really wanted to move, in fear of not being accepted in a new environment.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“I’m new…..I need a schedule?” I asked a dazed, yet crabby looking receptionist.

The receptionist stared at me for at least two minutes, which scared the shit out of me, but I stood my ground. She then responded quite abruptly, “What’s your name?”

Her aged and wrinkly face, showing occasional liver spots, looked repulsive. This lady obviously didn’t have that good of a life,

“Doon Chambers,” I responded daintily

The receptionist, with her long green painted finger nails, sorted trough at least fifty files within thirty seconds, and finally found one with my name on it. She then thrust the folder into my then relaxed hands, gave me a school map, and rushed me out the door.

“Rude much!” I yelled while on the way out,

No response.

I could tell today was going to suck even more than I thought it already did.

It seemed I was in the center of the hallway on the first floor, of five, in the school. I could tell the school was fairly new by the fresh paint smells emanating from the walls, and the somewhat clean, waxed, turquoise tiled floors. As I peered to my left, the hallway extended on for eternity, as did my right.

American History started without me, of course. As I walked in, I could feel the envious eyes piercing through my back by the other students.

The teachers name was Mr. Harrell. While he looked mean, he was really actually nice.

“Hey son where you from?” He said, obviously he was from the south.

“Ah…I’m new?” I replied, unsure if he meant from Florida, or what I was there for.

It seemed he was studying my face, it was kind of creepy, and I quickly said another answer out of my dim wit stupidity.

“Florida.”

The kids behind me started talking, jittering, and laughing amongst themselves, I thought it was kind of immature, seeing as we were all juniors. It was more like a whispering than a talking though, which made me feel somewhat like an alien compared to the other kids.

Mr. Harrell chose an empty desk in the middle of the classroom for me, since it was the only one left. It was centered around a decent pair of students.

Yet as soon as I sat down, he started going on about the basics of American history, in which I had partly known already. So in response to that, I slowly put my head down onto the desk and slept all period.

The rest of the day went by very slowly, so slowly that when the bell rang, I was reluctant to actually run in joy out of the school, get in my car, and race as hard as I could home, if only the Boston rush hour hadn’t rendered me.

Oddly, when I got home the door was unlocked. I peered in to see if anyone had broken in, that’s when I saw the note on the couch stating:

Doon, I went to the locksmith to fix these darn rusty doorknobs, plus I went to the grocery store.

From mom.

It figures, she was gone again. I then proceeded in throwing away the note, and racing up the stairs, yet midway on the stairs, the floor caved in beneath me and I fell all the way to the pantry below in there basement. Oh what fun fixing this house was going to be.

Description
Chapter One- Extended Misery

Florida sucked, even though I had lived there my whole life, things were different know. Since the economy sucked worse in Florida anyway, my mother and I, (mainly my mother) had decided to move somewhere more affordable. Massachusetts was fixed in our gaze at the moment.

Of course I had friends in Florida, but I was willing to let them go, even though I would be put to my misery later on. Just the look on each individual face when I told them made me feel sorry, a look of shock and loneliness is what they gave off. I never had any real family in Florida, let alone the whole entire world. My parents got divorced when I was twelve, and now four years later ,I’m still taking it well. I never liked my father anyways, yet my mom’s a nag.

Before moving, I had the option of either moving to Massachusetts, or Oregon, where my father lived. Oregon sounded fun, but I wouldn’t be caught dead with my father in a million years. He disliked me, and I hated him. Yes, it’s very disrespectful to say that to your parent, but I don’t give a damn.

“Doon, this will be fun, trust me.” She would always say to me

“Mom, I’m happy, don’t worry.” I would say back, repeatedly, every day. Even though somewhere in my gut, there was a gentle pulsating telling me that it was all a lie and that I never really wanted to move, in fear of not being accepted in a new environment.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“I’m new…..I need a schedule?” I asked a dazed, yet crabby looking receptionist.

The receptionist stared at me for at least two minutes, which scared the shit out of me, but I stood my ground. She then responded quite abruptly, “What’s your name?”

Her aged and wrinkly face, showing occasional liver spots, looked repulsive. This lady obviously didn’t have that good of a life,

“Doon Chambers,” I responded daintily

The receptionist, with her long green painted finger nails, sorted trough at least fifty files within thirty seconds, and finally found one with my name on it. She then thrust the folder into my then relaxed hands, gave me a school map, and rushed me out the door.

“Rude much!” I yelled while on the way out,

No response.

I could tell today was going to suck even more than I thought it already did.

It seemed I was in the center of the hallway on the first floor, of five, in the school. I could tell the school was fairly new by the fresh paint smells emanating from the walls, and the somewhat clean, waxed, turquoise tiled floors. As I peered to my left, the hallway extended on for eternity, as did my right.

American History started without me, of course. As I walked in, I could feel the envious eyes piercing through my back by the other students.

The teachers name was Mr. Harrell. While he looked mean, he was really actually nice.

“Hey son where you from?” He said, obviously he was from the south.

“Ah…I’m new?” I replied, unsure if he meant from Florida, or what I was there for.

It seemed he was studying my face, it was kind of creepy, and I quickly said another answer out of my dim wit stupidity.

“Florida.”

The kids behind me started talking, jittering, and laughing amongst themselves, I thought it was kind of immature, seeing as we were all juniors. It was more like a whispering than a talking though, which made me feel somewhat like an alien compared to the other kids.

Mr. Harrell chose an empty desk in the middle of the classroom for me, since it was the only one left. It was centered around a decent pair of students.

Yet as soon as I sat down, he started going on about the basics of American history, in which I had partly known already. So in response to that, I slowly put my head down onto the desk and slept all period.

The rest of the day went by very slowly, so slowly that when the bell rang, I was reluctant to actually run in joy out of the school, get in my car, and race as hard as I could home, if only the Boston rush hour hadn’t rendered me.

Oddly, when I got home the door was unlocked. I peered in to see if anyone had broken in, that’s when I saw the note on the couch stating:

Doon, I went to the locksmith to fix these darn rusty doorknobs, plus I went to the grocery store.

From mom.

It figures, she was gone again. I then proceeded in throwing away the note, and racing up the stairs, yet midway on the stairs, the floor caved in beneath me and I fell all the way to the pantry below in there basement. Oh what fun fixing this house was going to be.