Natalie Peterson was a beautiful, intelligent and athletic teenager, but she hated high school for all of the right reasons. When she's bored, she smokes pot in the ghost area with her best friend Tamara Woods who's bullied by Gina, the hot popular...
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
I reached my supposedly luxurious house and maybe it was because it was big and it had a lot of space. My mother rarely placed any family pictures in the house, the decor was usually strange, abstract expressionistic art that I seriously despised. I always thought that abstract expressionism could be done by a kindergartener with a set of crayons and tempera paints. I preferred artistic realism or photorealism where I could actually see, in my opinion, a beautiful imitation of life.
A round black coffee table was at the center of our living room with a single red orchid. My mother was a minimalist when it came to decor. There wasn't a single side table. I sat down on the chocolate sofa and allowed my body to drown in it's light, softness.
"Natalie?" I heard my mom from the kitchen. She paced towards me as I relaxed.
"Yeah?"
"Who was that?"
"Who was who?" I asked her.
"I saw a boy in a motorcycle, who is that?" She asked me.
"His name is Brad Wolfram, he's new in school," I replied.
"He looks like trouble Natalie and I don't want you running around with troublemakers," mom said. I gazed at her middle-aged face and bob hairdo. I was so sick of her nagging.
"Mom, he just gave me a ride," I replied and got out of the sofa. I grabbed my backpack and walked to my room. My mom would continue to drag this conversation on and on if I stayed here.
"It's enough I had to deal with Lucy's shit, now you too. Let me see your backpack," she said. Lucy was our next-door neighbor. She was the one who had introduced me to pot. Now she was gone to college though and I hadn't seen her since last summer.
"What?"
"Your backpack. Let me see it," she said.
"Why?"
"Because I want to see if you're carrying drugs in there."
"Oh, for god's sake," I replied.
"Let me see it," she insisted. I gave her my backpack and watched how she ravishly searched in my bag. She frowned at me and handed me my backpack back.
"Satisfied?" I asked. My mother shook her head in disapproval.
"I don't understand you Natalie. Your father and I work very hard to give you everything. Why do you have to do drugs?" She asked me. So, was I going to be punished for life for one silly mistake? I couldn't take this anymore. I was heading for the stairs.
"I don't do drugs mom, I just tried some pot a few times, it's not the end of the world. I'm not addicted to it and besides I've quit it. I want to join the basketball team," I replied.
"The basketball team? But you don't even like basketball," she said. She really didn't know me at all.
