Shooting Star - Chapter 1

okay. yeah, I'm alive again guys. I'm uber sorry. But I'm not continuing the other stories anymore. My friend is so if you want to read here's the link:
http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/browse.collections?uid=883299

this one's by her as well. we're like working together. yeah. here it is.
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"It’s me and you against the world. Just me and you, baby."
He used to say this to me all the time and back then I actually believed his words. But now, it’s just me against the whole goddamn world.

- -

"You were like a shooting star,
Lighting up my dark nights
Giving me hope
Lending me strength
But now you’re gone
Just as quickly as you came
And I’m still down here
Searching for you in the endless sky
Still searching, still missing, still hurting."

Our beat-up Honda was filled with the sweet melody of the song and my mom’s beautiful voice singing along to the sad lyrics. Oliver, my six year old baby brother, hummed along with the familiar tune and clapped with his chubby little hands. And as the song faded away to an end he /demanded/ for a repeat.

"Please, Oliver, no. I’m so sick of this song! No offense, mom." I begged him from the passenger seat and cursed myself for not buying some ear plugs when we had stopped for gas. It was going to be a long ride all the way to Florida and I did not want to hear my mother’s song yet again. My mom was a singer, or at least she used to be all those years ago. She wasn’t very famous or anything, just a one hit wonder, but no need to burst her bubble by telling her that. The one song that people actually knew was called Shooting Star and it was apparently "really famous back then". I very much doubt it, though.

"Oh c’mon, Annaliese, sing along with us! Don’t be such a party pooper." She said and proceeded to sing the song full volume.
I wanted to defend myself but it was true. I was always the party pooper in our family. I was the only adult in this house, no matter how old I was. My mother did not deserve the title ‘mom’. I took care of myself since 8 when my dad left us and I was both mom and dad for little Oliver. I cooked breakfast and dinner for us, I did all the laundries, I vacuumed the house, and I was the one who read bed time stories for Oliver every freaking night. I did everything mom’s and dad’s are expected to do. And what do I get in return? Absolutely nothing. But hey, that’s life.

Our old Honda crawled along the road while the sun disappeared behind the horizon and the stars began to pop out of the dark night. We had been driving for 4 hours now and we still had 2 more hours to go until we reached our destination—Pensacola, Florida. We were "borrowing" our rich aunt’s beach house for awhile, just until we could pay for our old rent again. I had an uneasy feeling about this though. I doubt my Aunt even knows that we are about to live in her house since I know my mom and her hadn’t talked for ages after that very feisty fight. I wanted to protest against this whole move but we had no other choice. Our landlord had kicked us out of our crummy little house and we hadn’t enough money to pay for another rent. No surprise there. It was always like this. My mom would come home one day, drunk, with some cash from an unknown source which we would save as much as we could. And when we ran out of money again, we would hide from the landlords as best as we could until, eventually, we would get caught. And once we did, we would pack up our bags and move to wherever we could. It was a vicious, never ending circle—a pattern that could be easily broken if my mom would just get up her lazy ass and get a real job for once. Since I was only a senior in high school, the only job choices I had were all low-paying and it couldn’t support our family of three, no matter how many hours I worked.

A sigh escaped my lips and I could feel a little crease forming in between my eyebrows while I thought about this. Then I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep—unconsciously letting /him/ enter my dream. His voice, his smell, his touch, and his soft butterfly kisses filled my mind. And once again I realized that there will always be that one special boy who you will never really move on from, whom you will always be in love with, no matter how many miles you put in between yourselves or how much time passes.

- -

"Wake up! Wake up, Annaliese! We’re here!" I could feel my mom’s soft hands on my face. Then it moved to my shoulders, shaking it gently. "You need to help me with the bags. And Oliver." I groaned but got up anyway without a complaint. It was pitched black out and I had to fumble around a bit before finding the door handle. When I finally did, I hopped out and walked around to the trunk. I grabbed the two huge suitcases and threw the smaller ones over them so I wouldn’t have to make multiple trips back and forth from the house. I dragged the suitcases quietly behind me while walking up the long driveway.

The moon was nowhere to be seen and the only source of light was coming from the few stars that were out in the sky and the little fireflies that were flying around me. I could hear and smell the salty beach behind the house—the waves crashing every few seconds, calming me. It was a perfect summer night…Hopefully, one of many.