The Boy Next Door

"It's Just Brooke."

"Aunt Kelly, I really don't see the point in making me leave home. New York is where I've lived my whole life. I love it there. The rude people, the greasy pizza, the horrible traffic!" I complain, trying to at least get my point across, even though I knew she wasn't going to fall for lame excuses like those.

My Aunt Kelly has always been as stubborn as a bull trying to capture a red piece of cloth. No matter how much you try, she never budges. Compromising with her was like talking to a wall—she never responded she just stood there and listened. When she wanted things a certain way, she was going to get it that way. I guess the expression, my way or the highway fits perfectly for her—according to my mother at least.

"I just don't get why I have to leave everything, everyone. It's selfish and unfair, Uncle Joey. I know mom and dad have been gone for a while, they're working on an important job that require long hours. They'll be back as soon as they finish. Put yourself in their shoes. You try going on a work related trip to provide for your family only to return to an empty house without a trace of your child."

The car was silent. You know what's strange? No matter how often I talk, the only moment there is a slither of a response is a twitch in their expression every time I mention my Mom and Dad. First, their nostrils flare, then the crease in the center of their forehead furrows their brows and they simultaneously look at one another before focusing their attention back on the road.

Again, I'm not incompetent—obviously all these years of being left alone for long periods of time wasn't exactly top tier parenting, but I'm here.

Their work requires an intense amount of traveling, hard work, and dedication, which is probably why they don't keep in contact. The last time I heard from them was three months ago. I understand why it's hard trying to keep in contact, and it wasn't a big deal to me anymore. Once they were gone for five months, three months wasn't going to kill me. Plus, it only meant when they got back, they'd have some extravagant way of making it up to me.

"What am I going to do in Canada? That's not even apart of the US. I'm in my senior year of high school with plans to graduate early. I'm going to Berkeley and transferring to an entirely different country is going to put me so far behind. Besides, I don't know a single soul here. For Christ sakes, what if I get jumped my first day for being the new girl? Then what?"

After an awkward moment of silence, Aunt Kelly and Uncle Joey looked at each other before allowing laughter to fill the confides of the vehicle.

"It's not funny, Ugh," I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. I know I'm complaining a lot but get real. What would you do if your Aunt and Uncle were forcing you to leave your hometown, to move to Canada! I hated the idea.

The rest of the eternal car ride was pretty much tranquil, that is except for my occasional melodramatic inhales and exhales.

After several hours, we've finally made ourselves to the Canadian border. Stratford—that would be my new home for the foreseeable future. To declare the least, I was expecting it to be awfully miniature and terribly boring, but as we continued down the road, my first impressions were very pleasant, though I'd deny that fact if either of the adults in the front seat were to ask my opinion.

In the city, everything was go, go, go. If you got complacent for even a moment, you'd miss  out of the latest and greatest. There were billboards and TV screens plastered with the latest fashion trend, or the latest celebrity on trial by the media for God knows what. You could walk out your front door, and smell the cigarette smoke tainting the air, or the smell of fresh dough and tomato sauce from Roberta's pizzeria across from our condo. The sound of whistles and car horns from the streets as people try navigating through traffic.