Extraordinary Girl, chapter 2
**Flashback**
"Michael, your father and I have to talk to you." My mother sat me down on the stiff living room sofa. We weren't extremely well off but we made ends meet enough. I wasn't too much work to take care of anyways. I'd pretty much seen this talk coming since I'd beaten up that kid at my school...
"Look, Mom, I can explain. See, this kid was being me, and..." I began my long, exaggerated excuse to get out of trouble with my parents.
"No, Mike, it's something else." My dad said. He looked pretty serious and depressed, which was not a usual face. I felt my body stiffen against the rough upholstery. I was prepared for the worst. Well, not exactly prepared, but I was expecting the worst... like one of my parents had cancer or maybe they were adopting a new kid and didn't want me anymore...
"Mike, honey," My mom started. She had tears in her eyes. I was scared, scared for my life, scared for the life of my family. But it really wasn't a life-or-death situation. "You know your father and I both love you very much, right?" I gulped and nodded, my hands gripping the edge of the couch. My mom began to cry and couldn't talk.
"Michael, your mother and I... are getting a divorce." It was a mix of feelings right then. I had been expecting something much worse, but then again, this was horrible. How could they do this to me?
"You... you... you are doing what?" I stammered.
"Honey, it's not that we don't care for each other anymore, it's just... we fight too much, and we don't want to have to raise you like that." My mother pleaded with me.
"Oh, yeah, so you're going to put me through this instead? Brilliant plan, mom and dad. Just brilliant." I tried to talk more mature and adult than I was, without breaking down in front of them. This proved to be pretty hard. Mom began to cry again.
"Look, Mike, you're making this more difficult than it has to be. You can live with me and your mother will move out. She'll still visit. You'll still see her." My dad tried to explain it as if it were a simple math problem.
"You're doing this to me after everything I've been through?!" I yelled. My mom just kept right on crying. My dad didn't exactly know what to say in response. It took me a few minutes but I figured out that yelling wasn't going to do it. So I began to beg. "Please, please don't do this. Is it school? 'Cause I can change, honestly! I'll get better grades and everything!"
My dad rubbed his temples with his hands, the way he does when he gets agitated with me. "Mike, it's not that simple, buddy." I felt numb with pain. I didn't realize until later on in my life that most 7-year olds didn't go through the type of things I did. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know if there was anything to say.
I stood and left the room, left my parents sitting there so they wouldn't see the tears streaming down my face.
***
For the next several years after that day I lived in pain. Nothing in my life had gone right. I hadn't enjoyed the same care-free childhood most kids had. I had no friends because I was constantly switching between my father's house and my mother's house. I lived in poverty with my mother but was afraid to leave her alone. I tried to push the pain away, tried to ignore, tried to fight it off. But it wouldn't leave. My sister moved out at the young age of 13, which was my dream but I never could accomplish it. When I was in fourth grade, my mother came home with a guy, who moved in. He became my step father. And then, my mother left us, just like that. Things were constantly changing and I could do nothing but sit and watch and keep fighting away the pain.
That is until I met Billie Joe.
"Michael, your father and I have to talk to you." My mother sat me down on the stiff living room sofa. We weren't extremely well off but we made ends meet enough. I wasn't too much work to take care of anyways. I'd pretty much seen this talk coming since I'd beaten up that kid at my school...
"Look, Mom, I can explain. See, this kid was being me, and..." I began my long, exaggerated excuse to get out of trouble with my parents.
"No, Mike, it's something else." My dad said. He looked pretty serious and depressed, which was not a usual face. I felt my body stiffen against the rough upholstery. I was prepared for the worst. Well, not exactly prepared, but I was expecting the worst... like one of my parents had cancer or maybe they were adopting a new kid and didn't want me anymore...
"Mike, honey," My mom started. She had tears in her eyes. I was scared, scared for my life, scared for the life of my family. But it really wasn't a life-or-death situation. "You know your father and I both love you very much, right?" I gulped and nodded, my hands gripping the edge of the couch. My mom began to cry and couldn't talk.
"Michael, your mother and I... are getting a divorce." It was a mix of feelings right then. I had been expecting something much worse, but then again, this was horrible. How could they do this to me?
"You... you... you are doing what?" I stammered.
"Honey, it's not that we don't care for each other anymore, it's just... we fight too much, and we don't want to have to raise you like that." My mother pleaded with me.
"Oh, yeah, so you're going to put me through this instead? Brilliant plan, mom and dad. Just brilliant." I tried to talk more mature and adult than I was, without breaking down in front of them. This proved to be pretty hard. Mom began to cry again.
"Look, Mike, you're making this more difficult than it has to be. You can live with me and your mother will move out. She'll still visit. You'll still see her." My dad tried to explain it as if it were a simple math problem.
"You're doing this to me after everything I've been through?!" I yelled. My mom just kept right on crying. My dad didn't exactly know what to say in response. It took me a few minutes but I figured out that yelling wasn't going to do it. So I began to beg. "Please, please don't do this. Is it school? 'Cause I can change, honestly! I'll get better grades and everything!"
My dad rubbed his temples with his hands, the way he does when he gets agitated with me. "Mike, it's not that simple, buddy." I felt numb with pain. I didn't realize until later on in my life that most 7-year olds didn't go through the type of things I did. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know if there was anything to say.
I stood and left the room, left my parents sitting there so they wouldn't see the tears streaming down my face.
***
For the next several years after that day I lived in pain. Nothing in my life had gone right. I hadn't enjoyed the same care-free childhood most kids had. I had no friends because I was constantly switching between my father's house and my mother's house. I lived in poverty with my mother but was afraid to leave her alone. I tried to push the pain away, tried to ignore, tried to fight it off. But it wouldn't leave. My sister moved out at the young age of 13, which was my dream but I never could accomplish it. When I was in fourth grade, my mother came home with a guy, who moved in. He became my step father. And then, my mother left us, just like that. Things were constantly changing and I could do nothing but sit and watch and keep fighting away the pain.
That is until I met Billie Joe.
