The Darkness in All

“Leia it’s time to go!” my mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Sighing, I took one last look around my old bedroom, reminiscing as I did so. There was a faint purple stain where I spilled a box of grape juice years ago in the corner, and the sloppy paint on the far wall covered a blood smear, from when I had cut myself on a razor, and slapped my bloody hand on the wall when I tripped.

“Coming” I called back, slowly walking out of my childhood room.

As I walked down the stairs, I took my time, trying to remember everything about the house, that had been my home for 14 years.

Sighing again, I grabbed my suitcase, the fall wind nipping at my cheeks as I quickly crammed it into the back of the full van. My 12 year old brother Tim was already in the backseat, his ear buds in his ears, and with his eyes glued to his phone. I shook my head, “Well some things will never change” I thought to myself, as I plugged in my own phone and dug out a few of the books I had buried under my seat.

The three that I pulled out were “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee, which I had read once last year, “Nineteen Eighty Four” by George Orwell, a book which I had never read before, and my all time favorite, The Hunger Games. “Might as well get a start on "To Kill a Mockingbird.” I thought to myself. ”It will be a good refresher, since the new English Composition teacher sent an email letting mom, dad, and I all know what books we would be reading.” I carefully stowed the other two books back under my seat and began reading.

After a few hours of driving my brother finally looked up from his screen and announced,

“I have to use the bathroom, when are we stopping for gas?”

My mom sighed and gently poked at my dad to get his attention,

“Rickan, the van is running low on gas anyways, why don’t you turn at the next exit?”

Even though my mom phrased the question as a request, we all knew that it was really more of an order. It was a known fact in the family, that my mother is really good at making a simple question or statement seem commanding. Not that I could blame her though, she had, after all, worked in the Secret Service for 8 years before she met my dad and had Tim and I. Now though, she is an author and has almost finished her first six-book series.

My father, on the other hand, is the reason we were moving. He was recently promoted to executive in a huge tech company. He accepted the job since he got a large pay raise along with the promotion, even though it meant leaving the only home Tim and I had ever known. We were going to live in Pennsylvania, and I was sure I was going to be miserable after living in Virginia, only a 24-minute bike ride away from the ocean my whole life.

My father replied with good-natured humor "Ok my darling dictator Diana "

This was his joking response to my mother any time she used what he called her "secret service voice"

My mother replied with her standard comeback, also poking more fun at herself, "You can take the girl out of the secret service but you can't take the secret service out of the girl!"

Shaking my head at their antics, I put a bookmark into my book and slipped my feet into my purple Crocs. A few moments later we reached a gas station. Tim bounded out of the car like a spooked deer, while my mother and I looked after him in amusement. My father started filling up the van and when Tim came back, he handed the chore off to him, while the rest of us used the bathroom and got a snack. While I was looking for a bag of Cheddar Chex Mix, I spotted a bag of Tim's favorite gummy bears, its bright gold and blue packaging drawing my eye, and picked them up, finally seeing the Chex Mix right beside them.

I grabbed one bag of each and hurried up to the register where my mom was paying for her snack. As was usual for her she had picked an uber-healthy snack, unsalted peanuts. She glanced down at the gummy bears in surprise.

"Planning on taunting your brother Leia?"

"No.......I figured since Tim was on gas duty I would get him a snack."

She nodded approvingly and paid for both bags.

"Thank you, Mom!" I said, having fully expected to need to pay for my own snack.

"Thank you for acting like an adult and thinking of your brother," she replied.