I sit down on the edge of the bed and my eyes fix on a spot on the wall, as my mind goes blank.
With surprise, Sean's voice pulls me back from the empty void of nothingness, when he says, "Cheer up, girl. It's not as bad as it looks."
Hurriedly I stand up from the bed and manage to smile half-heartedly.
He heaves my suitcase onto the bed. "There you go," he says cheerfully.
I mumble sarcastically, "Thanks."
As he leaves my new room he starts to whistle the tune the seven dwarfs whistle on their way to work: Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we go.
I unpack my suitcase quickly, packing my clothes in the dresser drawers, placing my photos on the bedside table, looking at the happy faces of my friends longingly. My room is draughty and on the second level, and does not even come close to resembling the snug, cosy room that was my haven not so long ago. The only plus now is that I have my own bathroom and I did not have to share with Esther any more, although I will give up this luxury in the blink of an eye, if I could be back in my old room.
Looking pessimistically around the room once more, I slide the suitcase in under my bed and decide to go and explore the small forest to the side of the house I saw earlier. I want to find a quiet spot, where I can yell, cry and scream without having Sean or my mom rushing to my side, trying to make me feel better with silly motivational blubber.
I have had enough of pretending to smile, pretending that everything is as it should be because in reality, I feel lifeless inside as if I am carrying the whole world on my shoulders. I did not want new friends, I had just lost my gawkiness, Jason started noticing me, I was popular and I was doing well academically - all my hard work wasted.
My mom and Sean are forever saying a person should set goals and work toward them, and I wonder sarcastically if they ever consider that having aspirations and goals only work when you actually see them through to the end.
Since the day of the cataclysmic announcement, I have prayed daily, sometimes up to once every hour, pleading that everything must please go back to the way it is supposed to be, but here I am anyway - so much for that.
As I walk out of the front door, my mom calls from the library, which sounds more impressive than it actually looks, not to stray too far away from the house.