What do you mean?, chapter 1

Present day.


My entire life, I've lived in Suburbia. What is suburbia? It's a place that looks like paradise on the outside, seen as a calm, peaceful town where nothing interesting or important happens, a retirement town, a place to raise a family. You would move there after getting married and settle down with your spouse and have children and grow old, and have a house with a white picked fence and all that eighties television-life bullshit.

Then you go into it. POW. BAM. Hit's you like a ton of bricks. Just because the news never shows any murders or kidnappings or heists or anything like that about the town, it's just a big junk pile with graffiti, drug dealers, mafias, and some schools where some fortunate or unfortunate kids may go to.

On one side of this town it may be a beautiful place, old folks homes with a flower shop across the street, next to a coffee shop where nurses and old ladies go to gossip or have a cig, or just sit there wondering, thinking to themselves, 'why didn't I take that one chance? Why did I end up like this?' Or they could just be thinking about the horrible weather.

I lived on one side of Tari, a city right near Toronto. (There is no city like this, but bear with me.) It wasn't the Nursing home side, but the side where there was a Drug store, a Mac's variety, a club where bands tried to make a name for them selves, and a bunch of townhouses scattered everywhere. Parks with broken glass near the swing sets, graffiti walls, dirty buses, dust, pollution. And I have to say, in Tari I never felt more at home.

My name is Celia. I'm seventeen in this story. My senior year in high school was the next year- and it was the last day of school. That's when this tale begins, and I guess I should tell you a bit about myself first.
I'm an only child. My moms a nurse. My dad's unemployed.
Uh...
The end?
Okay so, high school. All day I had 'Rock and Roll High School' by the Ramones stuck in my head. I loved that song. And I had barely made it to the end of the day, but finally, somehow, there I was, thirty minutes to bell, in the dead heat of my classroom. No wind, just soaking wet, humid air. It just lingered. The heat teased my classmates and I, and just sat there while we struggled to finish up the last minute report the teacher had given us. Well, the rest of the class did. My friend, Luke, and I were doodling on each other. We rarely pay attention. But who in their right mind does? History, math, science, it's all the same crap. I don't care!

I want to teach guitar and piano lessons. I want to show the youth music. Do I need to know who sailed around the world first to do that?
Right. Like hell I do.

Luke, who had finished a hasty Green Day- American Idiot symbol on my hand, sat up and cried, "DONE!"

This earned us a quick glare from everyone around us. We both basically adored Green Day. Green Day, pop rocks, Pepsi, pizza, and each other were all we needed to survive. We had been friend's since kindergarden, and we were never going to lose each other. Our parents barely paid attention to a thing we did, even though Luke's parents had even gone through the process of adopting him. Our parents were to caught up in their self mourning, where as me and Luke just wanted to have fun.
So I thought.

It all changed that summer. The bell rang, we were out! I screamed and stood up, dashing out of the room. While others stayed behind to rip up school work, Luke and I just wanted out. We'll burn the school work later.
The heat hasn't let up, but that doesn't stop me from tackling Luke to the ground outside of school. Luke and I have this little ritual of fighting after school, and whoever says mercy first buys the pop rocks, pizza, and hosts the sleepover. My mother used to say it was 'inappropriate,' but I just ignored her and eventually she lost interest in nagging me. Now it's just 'use a condom,' and even then she doesn't care if I get pregnant, she probably wouldn't notice.
Luke and I fought, but, like every year, I won, and Luke pulled a twenty out of his pocket. I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he bent down so that I could hop onto his back. He carried me all the way to his car, and finally, with a giant grunt, set me down in front of it.

Summer had started out the way we wanted it to, the way it had since grade one. While our peers were out partying, getting drunk, and getting laid, (As in this year.) We were having our own party, acting like kids, listening to Green Day, and telling each other what was on our minds. Well, not like we had to. Just by looking, we could tell what one of us was thinking, about to say, or craving.
Like the time my cat Percy died from getting hit by a car in grade five, and my mom just told me to suck it up, and I was miserable because other than Luke he was my only friend. Luke called me up and asked me what was wrong, and he came over right away and stayed for two days straight while I complained.
And when Luke broke his leg in grade eight, and he couldn't go on the ski trip, we pretended to go anyways, and for the entire two weeks, we took the money our parents money and did whatever we wanted for two weeks straight- living at my grandmothers house. Luke completely forgot about the trip, and just went on with life.
When my grandma died, Luke sat outside my bedroom door, his back where mine was on the opposite side, and tried to calm me down while I sobbed. He sat there for hours.
And when Luke's adoptive brother punched him, I went and kicked his ass.

The next morning, Luke walked me home. It was like I imagined myself if I had been in the popular click when I was in grade four- waking up dreary and tired and all worn out from partying. But it was better. Because Luke was there. What could those girls give me that Luke had? They would NEVER be caught dead playing video games, or shoving french fries up their noses, or doing anything, gosh... uh, fun? They just wanted to put on makeup. And whatever, it's their lives. But I would much rather live with Luke.

He dropped me off, and I walked into my house. My mother greeted me, grabbed my arm, and sat me down on the couch.

"We're moving to California in two days. Get packed."

And suddenly nothing mattered any more. I just remember a lot of screaming at my mom, I slammed my door in her face, and sobbed for the next day. I didnt pack my things. I stayed there. I stayed lying there. I couldnt call Luke. He called me.

I picked up the phone sobbing and crying.

"So when are you leaving for California?" he asked. It sounded as if he had been crying too.

"She's a no good bitch, Luke!" I screamed. "She told you and I didnt want you to..."

"She didnt tell me. I just knew."

And nothing more was said. Just as my mother said, we packed up the car in two days. Luke and I just spent the entire day sitting with each other, holding hands, hugging, and trying to brush it off. I would be in a new country. We would be miles apart.

I begged. I pleaded. I whined. I tried to even hide the car keys.

But just as she said... Our car pulled out of the driveway, Luke stood and waved. And I knew in his heart he was blowing me a kiss. He seemed too think that too- and all I could think to myself as my mother and father bickered-

"How could they do this to me?"