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I took one last helpless look around my now empty room, the room I've lived in all my life. It was going to be a new families room, where they'll bury my memories with their own. I didn't want to leave, even though it sounds selfish, but I don't want anyone to live in this house. This is my house, where I learned to walk and talk, where I rode my first bike and broke my arm in the same day.

I sigh and grabbed the last box, full of little things, and went downstairs. My father came up and grabbed the box from my hands, walking through the empty living room and foyer. I did a spin around to take it in, everything was gone, matted down carpet spots where furniture sat stagnant for years. I've never seen my house so empty, the thought made my eyes burn with tears.

"Emmalee, we have to go. Everythings at the new house. We have a long drive ahead of us and we're losing day light!" My mother cheered, a little too happy to be leaving. She practically skipped out the door, leaving me behind to reminisce the memories we had created in the space. I followed her, unwillingly letting her lock the front door for the last time. When I got in the car it was cramped, boxes were stacked on each other in the trunk, the seat next to me had the other things we didn't put in the truck.

I remained in the same sitting position for the two hour drive, as I watched a movie on my phone and listened to my father tell me how moving was for the best, and how many opportunities there were in the city. I didn't listen. All I wanted to do was go back to my home and go back to my school in the fall, see all my friends again.

When we pulled into the houses new drive way, I was blown away by how much bigger it was than my old house. It was a nice contemporary home surrounded by a beautiful landscape design and an iron fence. The property surrounding it was covered in cherry blossum trees, with beautiful pink flowers budding on the twigs, different kinds of roses and flowers planted down the driveway and in front of the house. It was Tri-level, the third story was reserved for just a bedroom and bathroom. There was a three car garage, one side held two cars and the other could hold one. I was shocked, suddenly forgetting that I should be heartbroken about losing my childhood home. I climbed out of the car, gazing at the beauty, walking around to the backyard.

I was astonished, there was an in-ground pool with a large tarp covering it's waters. A gazebo, which was connected to the deck, a bar and picnic table were just a few things to highlight. My eyes trailed up the house, spotting a balcony on the third floor and a large window on the second. As I stepped inside, the livingroom was nothing special, but the kitchen was. It had granite countertops with a six burner range, two ovens and an island directly in the middle of it. The dining room was across the way, walking through two double doors that were made of glass, a chandelier hung above the table. Upstairs were two bedrooms, one to be a guest bedroom, and one to be my parents, the master bedroom with a walk in closet and a large bathroom, with a jacuzzi and a water closet. My room was on the third floor, which was large and came with a small ensuite.

All of my things were in my bedroom and I spent a good amount of time unpacking and organizing my things. My clothes were hung in the closet or folded into the dresser, my makeup was neatly stored away in my bathroom, where my acrylic makeup containers were. I made my bed and straightened my things on my desk, wiping my hands on my jeans and admiring my new room.

The one thing I loved about my bedroom was the balcony, which I stepped out onto and took in the beauty of this place. I imagined my friends there, swimming in the pool or suntanning on the patio. That's when I felt my mood drop dramatically. Would they really make the two hour drive to visit me? I needed to start thinking realistically, because there was no way they would. I sent them a quick text, saying that I missed them and that I wished they were here.

The reality of moving was that I was going to have to start fresh once school started, because this school was different from mine. Despite the obvious difference, it was a school that issued uniforms, like the ugly plaid skirts and the dressy jackets. Yuck.

I made my way down the stairs and found my parents in the kitchen, my mom was already cooking and my dad was sitting at the small table that was in front of the bay window, reading the paper on his tablet.

"So, how do you like the new house?" My dad asked as soon as he saw me walk into the kitchen. I slowly sat down in the chair across the table from him, a frown on my face.

"It's okay..." I sighed, resting my head in my hands.

"Just okay?" He asked, looking at me over the screen.

"It would be better if it was back home instead of out here." I deadpanned. My mom scoffed from her spot in front of the stove, my eyes rolled on command whenever a noise of disapproval came from her body, it seemed.

"Get over it! We moved into a beautiful house in a gorgeous city. We sacrificed so much time to make this work, and you can't even pretend to be happy." My mom shouted, slamming her hands down on the counter.

"I was actually happy in Utah, I had friends in Utah." I was frustrated, my hands were shaking already. I hate fighting with my parents, it wasn't right to disrespect them.

"Oh, please! You didn't have any friends. I couldn't go one day without hearing you say that everyone hated you. We moved here because of you, so you could start over and maybe make some real friends. Now, could you stop being so fucking ungrateful and appreciate all that we do for you." She yelled, my father finally stepped in.

"All right, that's enough. Go to your room, Emma. Finish unpacking or something. Please." He begged. I stayed still, glaring at the back of my moms head from my spot at the table. How dare she say I had no friends? I had Samantha, Taylor and Nicole! We were the best of friends, right up until I moved two hours away from them. They were the reason for my sanity and now I have no one to keep me in check.

"Can you at least wait until school starts before you go on this hateful tangent about how much you hate it here?" She sighed, turning back to the stove. Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore.

I decided to listen to my fathers advice and go to my room. I was grateful for the beautiful house, but we didn't need to move because of me. I knew my mom was saying this to get under my skin and it was definitely working. I was angry, I wanted to break something, but I didn't want to hear another word from her right now.

My friends hadn't messaged back, so I decided to take a hot shower to relax, hopefully take my mind off of things. So, naturally, my brain moved from my parents to my new school and I had something else to be anxious about. I wanted to cry. What better place to do that then the shower, where the water could mix with your tears and make it seem like nothing even happened and I was OK.

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