Slipping Away- Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Packing sucks. Especially, when you don't want to. Cardboard boxes filled my bedroom floor. Most of them were filled with pillows , lamps, and crappy souvenirs from previous vacations. Some were filled with my drawings, notebooks, and photos I had saved. My family was moving and moving's a real bitch. "You'll make new friends," and "Keep in touch with them," is what people always say, but do they ever realize that you don't always make new friends or you can't always keep in touch?

I sat on my bed, stuffing clothes into my suitcase. I didn't bother folding them. I mean, what's the point? I'm just going to put them in my dresser at the new house anyway. I took the last of the clothes from my dresser and shoved them my suitcase. I walked over to my closet door to see if there were more clothes to pack and opened it. There were stickers, magnets, pictures with my friends from photo booths, and buttons glued to a large piece of paper labeled 'The Wall of Friendship" taped to the door. My best friends, Caitlyn and Angela made this with me a few years ago, we put on my closet door one day, and we eventually forgot about it. I touched a yellow button and heard a knock on my bedroom door.

Mom walked in the room, carrying my baby brother, Jackson. She put him on the bed and sat next to him. "Hey kiddo, I just came in to check on you," Mom looked over at my messy suitcase, "Look at this! Did you even bother to fold your clothes? I raised you better than this!" She took out some shirts and started folding them. I gave her the stink eye.

She saw my look. "Kenna, I know you're upset about moving to Denver, but you have responsibility for your things. Evan and Ciara don't like moving either, but they're packed neatly," Mom said. Jackson stood up on the bed with his one old year old legs.

I sat next to Mom, picked up Jackson and put him on my lap. "I don't care how neat my siblings pack their things, I just don't want to move. Just because Dad and Angie moved back to Ohio doesn't mean we have to move somewhere else," I told her.

A few years ago, Mom and Dad got divorced but not on very good terms. Dad's a nice guy and he wanted to stay friends with Mom, but Mom hated him for some reason. So Dad moved on and married My step-mom, Angie. But she's half his age and really annoying. On the bright side, she actually makes an effort to bond with us. Dad and Angie love to see us, but Mom tries to avoid them as much as she can.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not making everyone move to Denver because of your dad? I've told you a million times that we're moving because I think we need a change. Understand?" Mom said, looking at me straight in the eye. She continued folding my clothes and put the folded items in my suitcase.

"Then I hate change!" I practically screamed. I gave Jackson to Mom and stormed out of my own room.

I went downstairs, into the kitchen. My older brother, Evan was there. I couldn't see his head, the refrigerator door covered it. He heard me coming and lifted his head. He stood up and shut the door. Evan had different items to make a sandwich in his hands and held a sack of tomatoes in his mouth. He put everything on the kitchen table. "Hey, what's up? I heard you yelling from here," Evan said, unwrapping the tomatoes.

I shrugged my shoulders, trying not to make a big fuss. "Just an argument with Mom about change and moving and shit," I said.

Evan looked at me for a moment and then started making his sandwich. "K, I know you're mad about leaving your friends and Dad again and I am too, but we really can't do anything about it. You don't have to hide your feelings," Evan said. He walked over to me and hugged me. I hugged him back. Evan was always so caring. If someone was crying or sitting alone at lunch, he'd have to comfort them and provide them with company. I mean, it's a part of his nature.

He let go of me. I looked at him. Evan was much taller than I was and muscular. He had been playing football for school for a while, but last year he injured his left knee bad and never really recovered. Now, he walks with a limp, but it's not too noticeable.

Evan grunted in pain and sat down. He held his knee. Ever since he hurt himself, he has been in pain on and off. By what he's told me, it's awful. "Do you need your pills?" I asked him. Evan nodded his head and grunted again. I hurried over to the medicine cabinet fumbled with the different containers until I found the right one. I opened the top and poured some pills into my hand. I came over to him and handed him two pills. Tears had already started to form in his eyes because of the pain. He took the pills and popped them in his mouth. I watched him swallow them carefully.

"It may take awhile before the pain starts to go away." I told him.

Evan looked at me like I thought he was an idiot, "I know, K. I've been taking this shit for over a year. I know how pain killers work." He continued to hold his knee.

"I need to get to my room. Will you help me?" Evan asked, reluctantly standing up. I nodded and slung his arm over my shoulders and wrapped my arm around him to keep him steady. I walked him across the hall, into his room. Mom had switched Evan's room to the first floor so it'd be easier for him to walk to the parts of the house he's normally at, such as the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Evan laid on his bed and thanked me. He seemed uncomfortable, so I got another blanket from his closet and fluffed his pillows.

"Thanks, you didn't need to do that, I'm eighteen, not five," Evan said. I smiled and left the room.

Mom came downstairs with my suitcase in her right hand and Jackson in her left. She set him on the floor and watched him stand up and start to walk away, until she grabbed his hand and yanked him back over to her. He made a screeching sound. Mom set my suitcase down on the floor and pulled Jackson with her as she walked over to me.

Jackson released himself from Mom's grip, walked over to me, and hid behind my legs. "Your suitcase is all packed neatly, like you should have done it," Mom said and glanced around the room, "Where's Evan? I could have sworn he was down here, is he alright? Do I need to give him his pills?" She looked like she was panicking. A year before the divorce, Mom got in a car accident and suffered with some brain damage, she's been a little mentally unstable. Mom tends to get stressed out a lot and has a high anxiety level.

"Mom, Evan's fine. He was in pain, but I gave him his pills and walked him to his room. He's okay and you don't need to worry about him like he's a little kid, he's a senior in high school," I told her. Mom looked at me funny and took a deep breathe.

"Kenna, I know how old my own son is! I'm going to check on him," Mom muttered. She walked down the hall, Jackson and I followed behind her. The three of us entered Evan's room, Mom asked him if he was okay. Evan nodded his head and winced. Mom freaked out at his pain and sat at his bedside.

She brushed a part of Evan's dark hair out of his face. "Honey, why are you in pain? I thought you had your pills! Did Kenna lie to me?" Mom said, she was breathing fast now.

"Mom, K didn't lie. She gave me the pills, remember it just takes a while before I feel better," Evan looked at Mom's eyes, "Did you take your meds, Mom? I'm not the only one who has to take pills, you know." Evan noticed that her left hand was shaking; he sat up, grabbed it and held it for a while.

Mom yanked herself away. "I don't need those damn pills," she spat, "I'm going to finish packing, the moving truck will be here in an hour, you better be ready!" She mumbled something under her breathe that sounded like, 'ungrateful,' and left the room.

Evan looked at me, he felt guilty, but he didn't need to feel that way. I flashed him a weak smile and left his room.

I went into the living room and sat down. Ciara, my older sister, came downstairs, with of course, her phone in her hand. She noticed me, "What did you and Evan do to Mom? She came upstairs crying." She read something on her phone and laughed.

"Nothing, she just hasn't been taking her pills," I say. Ciara didn't look up at me, she just kept her eyes on her phone.

After a few seconds, she looked at me. "Whatever, she told me herself she doesn't need them. I believe her," Ciara said, sitting on the recliner. She went back to her phone again.

. . .

The moving truck came and the moving guys started loading their truck with our furniture. Mom came downstairs to tell us to get in the car. She hands Ciara the keys and goes to talk to a moving guy. Evan came out of his room with his backpack and suitcase and limped all the way to the car. I grabbed my suitcase and Jackson and opened the trunk. I put my suitcase and Evan's things in. I strapped Jackson in his car seat in the back. Ciara came out and put her things in the trunk. She got in the driver's seat and started the car.

Evan and I got in the backseat and buckled in. Mom came over to the driver's side of the car. Ciara rolled down the window. "What are you doing? Get in the passenger's seat," Mom told her.

“Sorry, I just thought you weren't okay to drive, that’s all,” Ciara said, unbuckling her seat belt and opening the car door to get out.

Mom looked at her, “What’s that supposed to mean?” She looked pissed off, but in Ciara’s defense, she didn't look well to drive twenty hours to get to Denver, Colorado. Mom didn't give Ciara a chance to answer; she had shoved her out of the way and sat in the driver’s seat. Ciara walked around the car and sat in the passenger’s seat and buckled in. I kept my eyes on Mom; she didn't put on her seat belt. Before I could tell her, she had already pulled out of the driveway.