AISLINN

My stomach churns at her ridiculous plan.

"Can you believe she's dragging me to the middle of nowhere for some bonding time?" I grumble. Each word spitting out of my mouth as if it were poison.

I crank up the volume on my ear buds, hoping to drown out her nonsense with the pounding beats in my ears.

Another message pops up. "I know, Ais. It sucks. I can't believe you're missing the party." Maddie's words feel like salt to my wounds. With a sigh, I shove the phone back into my pocket.

Mum and I have been fighting about this trip for the past two weeks. Why do we have to go away this weekend, of all weekends? It just seems like the wicked witch always wins. It's as if she's determined to make my life even more miserable than it already is.

My brows furrow at the thought of it all. It seems utterly pointless pretending to be happy. She's been faking it enough for the both of us lately, anyway.

As I stand in front of her, she pulls another disappointed look. Of course, she's trying to guilt trip me yet again, into this ridiculous trip. It's pathetic. If only she could read my mind and see just how pitiful her act is, but I doubt she's paying any attention to me or what I want, anyway.

Taking a step closer, she reaches out to grasp my hand. "It'll just be a couple of days. You might even have a good time," she pleads.

"I doubt it," I grumble in defiance.

"Maybe we can try something new. Explore the world a little," she says, tilting her head. I know she's trying to pull the sympathy card, in her usual manipulative way. There's no point pushing back, but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.

"Fine," I say, rolling my eyes. I rip my hand away just to make my point though, and leave her standing there, alone. She may have won this battle, but the war is far from over.

Forfeiting this round to her irritates me to no end and I stomp to my bedroom to wallow in self-pity. Before this round of bickering, she'd already packed her bags. I mean, she had told me we were leaving today, but there was still a flicker of hope that she'd let me stay home. I'm sure Maddie's' mum wouldn't mind if I stayed there, and then I could go to the party with her. Mum could still go on her road trip without me. Besides, I don't know why she wants me to go, anyway. I'm not interested in being the Robin to her Batman.

I shake off the thought and begrudgingly glance around my room, trying to figure out what to pack. Slumped on my bed, my eyes fall to the half-open closet door. Through the crack, I can see a sliver of pink. My overnight bag from years ago still sits there, undisturbed. Opening the door, its vibrant colour is faded by layers of grey dust. When was the last time I used it? It was long before dad left, so more than a year at least.

My stomach knots at the mere thought of him, and the mix of feelings he brings about in me. Anger, sadness, disappointment. Even still, amongst all the angst, I miss him. No matter what happened between him and Mum; no matter how he treated her, he was still a great dad to me. Well, he was until he abandoned me.

Crouching, I pick up the bag. A small daddy-long-legs spider creeps from its hiding spot. It's as if he looks me up and down, judging me, before quickly scurrying away, out of sight once more. A dense plume of dust swirls around me as I wipe it, inhaling sharply before a cough escapes. Once it's semi-clean, I set it down on the bed to unfasten the clasp. I wonder what remnants of my childhood remain closed in this fabric tomb.

As I tug at the zipper, it sticks from age and time, but eventually it opens. Musty air escapes the empty space inside. Pinching my nose, I reach for my deodorant, hoping to rid the offensive scent. Holding the bag at arm's length as if it might explode, I spray the floral mist, spinning the bag to ensure it's enveloped. Finally, I inspect it, satisfied.

Now, back to the task at hand – packing.

Flicking through the assortment of clothes in my wardrobe, my mind wanders to being stuck in this tiny town with my mother for days on end. It's far from appealing. Shirts, pants, skirts, and a dress or two land, one after the other, on the bed in a pile. There's at least a week's worth of clothing here; far more than I'll need for a single weekend. I really should put them away, but it seems like far too much work right now. Instead, I fold and roll everything in the pile, shoving it into the bag until it's bursting at the seams. A girl should be prepared for anything. It's better to have more than I'll need and not use it, than to need something I didn't bother packing. The thought makes me cringe. It's the kind of thing my mother would say.

Standing in the middle of the room, I throw my bag over my shoulder and take one last look around in case I've missed anything. Just as well, though, I almost left without my laptop, or worse, my phone. As I hurry to gather my things, she bellows from downstairs.

"Aislinn, are you nearly ready to go, hun?"

There's no way I'm giving her the satisfaction of a response when she uses that term of endearment. I wait another thirty seconds just for the heck of it, before I descend the stairs to meet her.

"Alrighty," she says, taking me in. "Let's go."

She locks the front door behind us, then rechecks it as usual. I'm not entirely sure why she does that. Closing the distance to the driveway, I realise the car looks different. Newer somehow. It's strange.

"Did you wash the car?" I ask, trying to recall the last time we took it through the car wash.

She beams, "Well yeah. A clean car for a clean start."

My brows arch,cringing at the statement. She thinks she's funny, or clever. I'm not evencertain she realises she failed miserably either. I can't help but laugh,though. Mum's really laying it on thick today. And my stomach lurches at whatthis weekend may bring.