I wish I had normal parents. Heck, I don’t even know what normal parents are. All of my friends from school come back on Monday with amazing stories about how they went to a waterpark with their family or went on a road trip to see their grandparents. But not me. I’m not allowed to leave my parents sight. I can’t have any friends over. My grandparents died in an accident and my parents work on weekends. We don’t even go to church. For as long as I can remeber, all I wanted to do was get out of the house. That was, until I met Aunt Clarice.
My mom’s sister, Clarice, was supposed to come to town next week. I was so excited to finally meet someone new. When she arrived, she was far more different than I had pictured her. Her long, curly hair was a bright pink, her nails were painted blue and yellow. Everything about her was warm and colorful, but the thing that caught my eye was her shoes. They were black shoes with lace going up to her knees and a rainbow stripe across the top. I guess Aunt Clarice saw me staring at them because she started talking to me.
“You like em?”, she asked.
“Sorry, I mean yeah. I love them!”
She giggled. Her laugh was just like mom’s. Of course, my mom didn’t want her here, but she had to come so they could scatter my grandmother’s ashes. To my surprise, my mom didn’t invite her in. She harshly pushed her out and slammed the door. I was shocked. That was rude and definitely unneccesary. Even for my mom.