• When my parents told me I was staying at Grandma Melissa and Grandpa Al's house, I wasn't exactly thrilled.
    There wasn't much to do in the countryside of Tennessee. Never has, never was, never will be. Most of the time I spent there was on my laptop, which was the only thing that ever works there. Everything else decided to commit suicide. For example, my iPod always dies within 5 minutes to their house and I lose the charger. And there's absolutley no goddamn reception so my phone is as good as a piece of crap.
    So no wounder I wasn't even more thrilled when they said I was going to stay for the rest of the summer.
    "What!?!" I exclaimed. "That's not fair!"
    "Sammie, it's just for a month or two," my mother said. "Your father and I have to go over-seas tomorrow for a couple months, and I trust that you won't do too much damage at Mom and Dad's house." I crossed my arms like a stubborn child.
    "Mom, I'm a 16-year-old girl!" I said. "I got my license a few months ago, I have a job, and I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself!"
    "Sammie, don't argue," my mother snapped. "The last time we left you alone just for a few days you almost got yourself pregnant!"
    "Would you let that go?" I said, scowling. "We crashed on my bed, for the millionth time!" My mother shook her head.
    "I'm not convinced I can leave you home alone for a few months," she said. "I'm not even leaving you for a few days alone." I narrowed my eyes.
    "Mom, you know that Grandma Melissa and Grandpa Al's house can get freaky sometimes," I said. "All those weird noises and stuff."
    "That's the work of squirells," my mother reassured me. "And you are going and you're going to like it and not argue!" She leaned in close. "Right?"
    I was silent for a few moments, and then sighed. "I guess I have no choice." My mother's lips twisted up into a grin.
    "Good girl. And it wasn't my choice to go overseas; it was your father's and the Navy's." She sighed. She patted my back. She shouted, "Trevor, do you have Sammie's plane ticket?" My father walked out of the guest room and to us. He handed me the ticket.
    "Be good, Sammie," he said. "And I'm sorry we have to go." I sighed.
    "I'm used to it," I said. "You leave so much." My father sighed.
    "Don't cause your grandparents too much harm," he said.
    "I won't."
    "No tricks or boys."
    "I doubt there's any boys out there besides Grandpa Al."
    My father smiled. "Go get in the car. We're going to the airport." I sighed and walked down the stairs to the garage. For some reason, our garage wasn't where we put our cars. We used it for other things, like my parents' guns and my sports gear. I used to play basketball, and I was quite good at it (I give all the credit to my long legs). I tried lacrosse too, but in my opinion, it wasn't nearly as fun as basketball.
    I walked through the gunned room and eyed the guns carefully, hoping one of them wouldn't discharge. None of them did, I'm glad to say, since I was still alive. I opened the garage door and let the cool autumn air flow inside. I breathed it in with a satisfyed grin. I walked outside to my parents' car-well, my mother's. It's a mercedes-and leaped into the back seat.
    My parents were already in the car. My mother tossed me my backpack, jammed pack with clothes, jewlrey, make-up, my laptop, and who-knows-what-else.
    "You forgot this," she said.
    "Oh." I took the backpack. "Thanks." I sighed and looked outside. My father started up the car and drove away from the house that none of us would see for a long time.