Sick of MOM. | Teen Ink

Sick of MOM.

April 22, 2011
By Odessa_Sterling00 DIAMOND, No, Missouri
Odessa_Sterling00 DIAMOND, No, Missouri
87 articles 108 photos 966 comments

Favorite Quote:
All gave some, some gave all. -War Veterans headstone.

I unwillingly gave my mom a hug and stepped back. Her tight jeans and short shirt, which showed her belly a little were what half the kids in high school wore at my school. Just last week she had turned 30. She waved, but I saw her glancing around and smiling like a hooker at all the dads, and a few high school boys standing around. I was 14, and my mom borrowed my clothes. She turned, wiggling her butt a little too much as she walked off towards her car, her 4 inch heels clicking loudly.

“That’s your mom?” I turned and saw Weston and Travis standing with their mouths open.

“No that was my sister,” I covered, hate boiling in me towards her.

“She’s hot,” Travis grinned and him and Weston ran up. I breathes a sigh of relief, until I heard him yell out to someone else, “Hey! Kirsten’s sister is HOT!” I slapped my forehead and walked into the school, my bag sagging in my arms.

“Hey, Kirsten.” Delilah caught up with me in the hall. “Is Weston and Travis talking about your mom, because I didn’t know you had an older sister.” Delilah my best friend stood by me at my locker as I spun the dial.

“Yeah, but I said it was my sister,” I said pulling my locker open and almost hitting her in the head. “If they knew it was my mom, it would be the talk of the school for weeks. They would bother me all day about her, which they’ll probably do since it’s still my sister.”

“I probably would have done the same thing.” Delilah joined the flow of people in the middle of the hall, heading off for her first hour.

“Hi, Kirsten!” My mom was in the front yard, short jean shorts on and a bikini top on, washing her car. I ignored her and walked up the front walk to the front door.

“Kirsten, no ignoring me,” she pretended she was going to spray me with the hose.

“Quit it,” I mumbled and pulled open the front door. She followed me inside, even though I tried slamming the door on her.

“What’s going on with you? Ever since school started you’ve been acting like ya hate me,” she crossed her arms and wouldn’t let me into my room.

“Maybe I do hate you,” I said turning heading for the kitchen.

“Why?” She whined like a baby. I ignored her and went to open the fridge, but she stepped into my way.

“Why, why, why?” She acted like a little kid.

“Because, now leave me alone,” I growled walking out into the backyard through the sliding glass door. She followed.

“Tell me or you sleep out here,” she threatened.

“Because, your annoying,” I mumbled sitting on the swing tied to a big branch on our oak tree from when I was like five.

“How am I annoying?” She crossed her arms like a preppy chick at my school.

“How are you not,” I said pushing off lightly.

“Kirsten Rene, tell me now!” She stomped her foot, and looked like a five year.

“Because, how you dress and how you talk, how you act and just how you are! Your 30! Act like it, grow up. Stop dressing like a hooker everywhere we go, and stop stealing my clothes.”

Her face went blank. She uncrossed her arms. Maybe she was going to cry, maybe she would yell at me. Give me a ribbon, she did both.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Her eye’s exploded with tears. “I am your mother and your not going to talk to me like that. Do not call me a hooker and don’t pretend to be the mother!” She was screaming and crying like a baby throwing a temper tantrum. I stopped the swing and just stared at her. She stopped hiccupping loudly and watched me too. She wrapped her arms around herself self consciously. Her tear stained face was covered in smeared makeup and she was ugly.

“Rotten brat,” she mumbled marching inside and slamming the door. I heard the sliding glass door lock click. I sat on the swing, a little stunned. I was shaking, scared. I didn’t think she would go evil on me. I pushed open the fence, and hurried to the front door. Locked. I sat down on the step shaking, trying not to cry. I could hear the TV inside.

“I know what to do,” I thought to myself. Pulling out my cell phone I called my Grandma, who hated my mom.


“Grandma, it’s Kirsten. My mom locked me outside can you come get me?” I asked making my voice flat so she wouldn’t hear the edge in it.

“Oh, my that (bad word). Yes of course, I’ll be there in 2 minutes.” I hung up and went and stood at the edge of the drive way. I felt abandoned and lonely there. The wind wiped past me, and the sun hid behind a cloud. I looked back at the house, and my mom was looking out the living room window at me. She had tried cleaning herself up a little bit. A car sped around the corner, a bright red one, Grandma’s. It pulled to a stop in front of me. I glanced at my mom who was now running out the front door.

“No! No, Kirsten come here!” She was yelling frantically. I climbed into the car and pushed the lock down.

“NO! Kirsten get out! MOM! You can’t just take her!” She was pounding on the car. Grandma pulled away, cursing my mother all the way.

We were home 10 minutes before a police cruiser pulled into the drive way.

My grandma answered the door.

“I got a call from a very distressed woman who said you kidnapped her child. Is that true?”

“No!” Called from the couch where I was listening. I jumped over it, tripping a little, and running over to my Grandma.

“I called her, my mom locked me out of my house.” I said standing close to my Grandma.

“I see, well, I’m going to have to take you home, if not this will have to be sorted out in court.” He crossed his arms.

“Take it to court, that should make her pee her pants.” My Grandmother spoke up.

After he left, I looked at my grandmother, and she looked excited. Excited to finally get something on my mom.

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