Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 

     Four days later, Francie and her mother arrived in San Diego, California. It was currently 4AM in Pacific Standard Time, which would be 7AM at home. Both women were dead tired and Francie was starving. They were eager to get out of the truck that they had been cooped up in for what seemed like forever. Fortunately it was Christmas Break at the moment, so Francie wouldn't have to go to school for the next week and a half (today was Wednesday).

     Francie sat up from where she had been leaning against the window. She took a look through the windshield and at the new house.

     "It's a little smaller than our other one, but it'll suffice," she thought to herself. She turned towards her mother. "What should we do now?" she asked.

     "Get your sleeping bag and pillow, and for right now we'll just go inside and sleep on the floor," her mom suggested.

     Francie was too tired to argue and it sounded like a good plan, so without hesitation she jumped out of the front seat and outside of the car. She took a whiff of fresh air and paused for a few seconds to stretch. It felt nice to be free from the stinky old semi that she had sat in for four days.

     Francie headed around the truck and pushed a button. The back of the semi opened up like a garage door. She crawled inside to look for the sleeping bags and pillows. Five minutes later, she came back out of the truck, triumphantly holding up two sleeping bags and two very fluffy pillows. She closed the door on the back of the semi and followed her mom inside the new home.

     When they first stepped into the house, the room that they were in appeared to be the living room. Francie took her sleeping bag and laid it across the floor. She threw her pillow on the floor beside it and crawled into the covers. They were so warm and cozy and within several seconds she had escaped into the Land of Dreams.

 

 

     When Francie woke up she didn't know what time it was. Some strong men were hauling furniture into the living room. She was still inside her snuggly sleeping bag, but she had somehow been moved to a couch. She rubbed her eyes and sat up on the couch sleepily.

     A tasty aroma drifted in from the kitchen, which was right across the hall. Francie figured that the men had brought in and installed all the kitchen appliances so that her mom could start making breakfast or lunch or whatever meal it was.

     Francie glanced out the window. It seemed like it should be dark out, but bright sunlight was filtering in. It gave the room a nice glow and Francie decided that she liked it at once.

     "Moooom!" she yelled. "What time is it?"

     "Our time or their time?" her mother called back.

     "Both!" Francie requested.

     "2PM and 5PM!" Mrs. Peterson replied as she strode into the room. She pointed out to several men where certain things were to go, then she walked over to where Francie was propped up on the couch. She sat beside her daughter and fussed with Francie's hair.

     "What's for lunch?" Francie asked.

     "Well, I've decided to do a brunch today," her mom answered. "So, I cooked some bacon, scrambled eggs, sausage, and lots of pancakes for us--after I went to the store, of course."

     "Ooh, yum!" Francie said delightfully. She loved her mother's cooking--especially when she was starving. "Is it ready to eat yet?"

     "Almost," Mrs. Peterson said. "Go sit at the table and I'll serve you some food."

     "Wow, they must've unloaded all that stuff from the truck really fast," Francie thought to herself as she made her way to the table, which was in part of the kitchen. She sat down, just as her mother handed her a plate that was piled with steaming pancakes, sausage, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Her stomach growled.

     After she said grace, Francie dug in. At the moment she wasn't thinking about Stacey, which was unusual, but right now food was her main priority.

     About twenty minutes later, she was done eating. She decided to take a walk around the neighborhood and call Stacey to tell her everything. A pang of guilt hit her when she remembered that she promised to call Stacey the first minute she reached San Diego. Francie quickly shrugged it off. Why would Stacey want someone to call her at seven in the morning, even if it was her best friend?