Let the World Blow

Shoot me… please.

My greatest fear in life is sitting a whole afternoon with my father and evil grandparent –my Nana. Oh, the shudders.

But the worst part… the worst part is– and I cannot believe this is actually happening – is that it's going to happen today at noon.

The world is about to blow.

The first thing that you simply must understand is that my Nana is evil. No, she is the epitome of evil, dammit. And I abhor her, everything little from her brown eyes, right down to her old wrinkly skin. The whole family is fine, except for the crazy bitch. I love my grandfather. He's the best grandpa I could ever ask for. Why he married my Nana is beyond me. She hated my mother just because she conceived my brother before my father and she could peacefully marry. They did the deed before a priest could announce them tied together before God. It makes no sense though; she loves my brother Nick, the one ill-conceived, and hates my second oldest brother, Max, the one that was born when they had been happily married for at least a year. And she hate me, the one that was also conceived when my parents were married. I know that she wouldn't miss me, even if someone came and murdered me with a toothpick.

Now, what to wear to the luncheon?

Well, just to tick my Nana off, I will wear a pair of neon colored skinny jeans. Oh, how I hate thee. If it made her angry, I would wear anything, even strip. She was bound to bitch about it to my grandfather, and for that grandpa, I am truly sorry. My dad is obsessed with creating the perfect family picture, obviously something that he picked up from my grandmother. Anything, save for a turtle neck, kakis, and loafers, would make him angry. Really, I blamed the way I dress on my father. He was the first person to explain the topic of revenge and spitefulness. He taught me how to see someone's weakness and exploit it.

A huge mistake.

I take it to a whole new level.

"Kaelyn, pass the tea," I close my eyes to keeping myself from snapping. My head falls into my propped hands, muffling my labored breathing.

Breathe, Kaelyn, she is trying to get a reaction out of you. Her bitchy drawl crawls up my spine and makes me want to scrub myself clean. The little-


Oh, that is it! "Stop talking and get – it – yourself!" I snarl, my reply muffled by my palms. I tried to smother myself in my hands, to get away from that demented bitch.

I don't need to look up to see my family's reactions. However, I do anyway, knowing that I'm about to receive a tongue lashing. I see mom's mouth twitch as she tried not to laugh out loud.

"Kaelyn!" Dad's face is turning this kind of purple prune-ish color. A vein in his forehead is throbbing. Oh, dad, you might want to get that checked out… It looks like it's about to burst any minute.

"You know, in my time we never talked to our elders like that unless we expected a beating," Nana says nonchalantly, buttering one of the biscuits on the table.

My mouth obviously caught verbal diaherra somewhere along the way from Massachusetts to California. "Yeah, but that was, like, a million years ago, Nana."

Mom can't help but grin like she just won the lottery. But, she did keep in a laugh that threatened to explode forth. Grandpa doesn't bother with being discreet; he laughs out loud, patting my back affectionately. Nana pauses in buttering her cookie look alike, and I see her eye twitch. She looks just a tad bit angry. Dad… well he looks like my normal father: angry, stressed, and a beet red that symbolizes his displeasure.

What a dysfunctional family.

I shake my head at it.

"Go – away," Dad slams his wine glass on the table, before putting his head in his hands and taking a deep breath. He looks like he's having a mental breakdown.

I sigh and push away from the lawn set, hitting my mother's high-five under the table as I pass. Grandpa pats my arm and slides a chocolate bar into my palm. I smile, happy that he didn't forget to bring me my favorite food. It was a tradition and since we probably weren't going to see each other again today, I was ecstatic that he had slipped it to me nondescriptly.

Trudging up the hill leading to my house, and away from the blistering, bipolar people below, I watch as my house augments in size each step that I take.

So yeah, that's me, Kaelyn. My parents dubbed me after my grandmother on my mother's side. I was very happy to learn that they didn't name me after the Nana I had just left behind. I would have change my name immediately.

When I finally make it to the front door of my house, I blow at the piece of blonde hair that falls into my face. It was a vile afternoon. Entertaining my Nana for almost two hours went beyond my mental capacity for assholes. I would like to see you do it.

It wasn't my fault that my Nana hated me. She despises me for no concrete reason. Despises, as in she'll never stop, not even when she dies and goes to hell. I'm pretty sure that it was because I was a girl born in the twentieth century. She had this weird thought that every single female born in the 90's and on was a slut bound to be impregnated by the age of eighteen. It's a little hypocritical considering she got pregnant when she was eighteen. To this day, she maintains that it was a different time period and getting pregnant that early was normal.

But anyways, for the last four years she's decided that that I am 1) a whore 2) fat 3) a failure at life 4) all drama 5) stupid 6) a lesbian, and 7) a bitch. It was bothersome and stereotypical to say the least.

I twist the glass doorknob and enter… my new house. It's big and spacey, more rooms than I care to acknowledge. And plus, I don't even feel at home here. I shut the door and make my way towards the grand staircase. It goes up two levels and then stops. I veer to the right and stalk down the cream color hall. The door I stop in front of is white to match the color of the trim. I open it carefully, not really trusting the glass knob to stay intact. To my immense surprise, it doesn't blow up.

I step into my room and close the door, drooping against it. Moving to California has certainly been… interesting. I push off and walk towards the far wall where my bed is located.

Flinging my body onto the queen sized bed, I gaze skyward at the poster-covered ceiling. My favorite bands and actors all stared back at me, sending a creepy jolt through my body. I'll have to rip those down if I want to sleep tonight.

It was blissfully silent for a moment.

"WOOF!" A squeaking canine voice barked from the floor. Craning my head over the side of the bed revealed my young Burmese Mountain dog. Her name was Octavia, my reminder of my past home. For now, she was only a tiny puppy. In a few months, she'd grow to be a beast of a dog.

Octavia jumped on the comforter and started pawing at it, trying to gain precious inches before sliding down.

Laughing, I grabbed her in my hands and set her on the bed, flipping onto to my stomach and transferring to all fours. She pounced on me and licked my face before I could dodge her tongue.

I splutter from her saliva just as my mom opens the door and walks in, trying to look strict, but failing epically.

Sitting up, I smile innocently and ignore Octavia as she naws on my hand.

"Your father is in an absolutely foul mood now," she said, crossing her arms.

I stopped my snort. "When isn't he in a bad mood?"

"Kaelyn!" She reprimanded. "You can't just say those things. She is your grandmother and he is your father."

"And she's a bitch," I snapped back, pulling my hand away from Octavia's mouth. "I'm not going to sit there and let her control me. The tea was right in front of her and you know it!"

Mom groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "That… That was rather silly of her, wasn't it?"

I nod, thankful that she's not yelling at me any longer. "And I was sitting on the other side of the table."

She smiled. "She started the same old conversation again."

"Really? What'd she say this time?" I was curious if she said anything mean about me in my absence. It wouldn't surprise me.

"Oh, the usual," Mom assured me, stepping forward and sitting on the edge of my bed. "She told me how bad of a parent I've been with you and your brothers; how your father was the only responsible adult in the relationship."

"Yeah, she's one to say. If I do remember correctly, wasn't she the one who got pregnant when she was still in high school?"

Sourly, she said, "She doesn't see it like that apparently."

"She also said that you were turning into a younger me: crazy and irresponsible. She even went as far to say that I rushed into having you and then proceeded to raise you like a pig preparing to be slaughtered." While she was saying what my GRANDMOTHER said about me and her daughter-in-law, a constant chime of asshole, asshole, asshole ran through my mind.

"She's one of a kind," I finally commented dryly.

"Yes, she is," She sighed. "Well, your grandfather and her left a little while ago. Dad went back to work. I'll be downstairs if you need anything." She stood up from my bed and I listened as her heels clanked against the wood floors.

"Of course dad's at work," I muttered, looking at my knees.

Either she doesn't hear me, or she doesn't know how to respond. She clucks her tongue and pets Octavia before walking to my door and departing.

Grumbling, I begin to get up from my bed when my mom pops backs in the room with a mega wattage smile. "I almost forgot! Good luck tomorrow with school! Your first day – how exciting!"

"Thanks," I say, somewhat happy that at least one of my family members remembers.

She smiles again, and this time, she really leaves.

"It's going to be a ball," I mutter sarcastically, shuffling towards my bathroom. "Being the new kid is always such a bloody joy."

When I enter the bathroom, my mirror greets me. I look at my tan face with three piercings on my lower lip. I still remember sophomore year when my father refused to allow me to get these and I got them anyways. I was a rebel when I was younger, what can I say?

My grandpa told me when I was younger that to find happiness, you had to like the person in the mirror. At the time, being eight years old, I hadn't understood what he meant. I had simply laughed and played with his silver/black hair. Now, I understood perfectly what he meant.

Did I like the person I saw in the mirror?

I sighed before retreating from the mirror and taking refuge on my bed. I hunted down the chocolate bar my grandpa had gifted me with and tore open the wrapper.

I could tell you this much: I did like item I was currently eating.