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In A Different World

Chapter 1
Melissa’s POV:

I didn’t want to be here. And when I say that, I mean I REALLY didn’t want to be here. Where is this here, you might ask. Well let’s start at the beginning:

My father works for an advertisement company. Recently, he’s been working way too hard for this promotion. And (no surprise here) he got it; he’s now Vice President. This meant more money, and him getting relocated to the head office. Knowing my father, he went out and almost immediately bought a house the size of a mansion.

At this point, I’m sure you’re all thinking something along the lines of, ‘Is this girl crazy? Doesn’t she realize that that is a good thing?’ But I haven’t finished telling you the story, now have I?

Yes, my father bought a too-big house in a posh community, but this town is not only posh, it is also predominately WHITE. Now, at first, I thought it was a joke. I’m not racist or anything, but c’mon. I mean, I’m a BLACK teenage girl. They don’t actually expect me to live there…. Do they?

How was I going to survive?

 

 

 

The drive to this hell on earth was beyond painful. Looking out the window, it was all I could see. White; and more white. They were all staring, trying to get a glimpse of their mysterious new neighbours through the tinted windows.

I still don’t understand why I had to move. Cassie’s mom would’ve gladly taken me in; I could’ve stayed for my senior year, then head off to college. But, no, my mother just had to, in that pleading voice, sounding so helpless, that even I, the one who was called cold-hearted at times, couldn’t say no to.

“B-b-but,” she had said oh-so-dramatically, “it’s your senior year; the last time I’m gonna see my baby before she leaves us to go to college. You’re telling us that I can’t see my only child off to college? That I can’t see my baby girl grow up?” Then, she burst into such tears that anyone else would’ve melted at her feet and done whatever she asked; but, I knew my mother all too well �" those tears were completely fake.

There was a silent debate in my head. Do I stay here, and suffer through, well �" forever, of my mother’s constant reminder that I left them? OR Do I go with them and suffer a year of living in that hell-hole?

All I could do at that moment was narrow my eyes at her and pull at the ends of my hair, before groaning loudly and half-yelling, “Whatever!” like the dramatic teenager I am. (What can I say? It’s in my genetics.) Then, I had stomped up the stairs, and just before I slammed my room door I heard my mother call out rather cheerfully, “Love you too, honey!” Rolling my eyes, I stuffed the earplugs to my I-Pod in and threw myself on the bed, hoping the music would rid of the world around me.

 And this was my way of saying yes to any ridiculous idea my parents just happen conjure up.

Unfortunately, my hopes and dreams had not come true. And this is what brings me back to the present. Actually, it’s my mother squealing excitedly, “We’re here! Melissa, stop sulking! We’re home!”

While my parents almost ran into the house, I just stepped out of my dad’s Mercedes, and took a deep breath. It tasted like �" well, it tasted like air. But, still, it was off. It tasted like change.

I. Do. Not. Like. Change.

As I stared at the house, I gasped, just now realizing the sheer monstrosity of it. The mansion was painted a shade darker than cream, and almost the whole of the first floor was windows. The thing looked about the size of 15 houses stretched across the street of my old house. How was I supposed to get from one end to the other?

 Slowly, I made my way up the steps to the porch, pausing at the open, large, wooden doors, almost as if I was a guest. Cautiously, I stepped inside. I walked around the first floor a bit; finding my parents already sprawled out the sofa. I leaned against the door-less frame and laughed as I spotted my mother bouncing on the plush material. Honestly, this was not surprising; my mother was slightly over-energetic, putting it mildly. In a little while, she’ll be bouncing off the walls, squealing like a 5 year old girl on Christmas Eve.

One of the comfy-looking chairs that looked like they could fit about 5 people were simply begging me to plant my lazy a*s on it, and I was just about do exactly that. But then I saw my dad kissing my mother’s neck, with her giggling like a teenager.

“Ahhhhh!!!” I screamed, throwing my arm over my eyes. “Your child is in the room! Stop! Stop! Stop! This is not right! There’s about a million rooms in this place! Find one!”

My mother seemingly latched her face from my father’s long enough to say this: “Sorry hun. You know your dad isn’t home a lot and we barely have time to - ”

“Ah! Please!” I cut her off, “I’ll be somewhere upstairs. Go do… whatever.”

“Choose any bedroom you’d like!” Was my dad’s reply before I went speeding up the stairs.

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