{"id":2164,"date":"2019-04-14T16:17:28","date_gmt":"2019-04-14T20:17:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=2164"},"modified":"2022-08-10T13:55:10","modified_gmt":"2022-08-10T17:55:10","slug":"meet-the-misfits","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/meet-the-misfits\/","title":{"rendered":"Meet the Misfits"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Meet the Misfits<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

\n\nZoey’s pretty sure her life is over when her wannaba-rockstar mother uproots her from from their home in Seattle and deposits her in Nowheresville, Oregon to live with her whackadoodle grandparents. Things start to look up, though, when she reconnects with Louisa, the girl from across the street. Maybe, just maybe, Louisa won’t mind that Zoey’s always been a bit of a misfit. Louisa’s ex-BFF, however, doesn’t seem too happy to welcome Zoey to the neighborhood. And when they all end up at church camp together, it’s not just a matter of whether or not Zoey can fit in\u2026it becomes a firsthand lesson in what it really means to “love your enemy.”\n\n<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

It\u2019s not easy being me. Okay, I\u2019m sure a lot of preteen girls\nmight feel like this, but I\u2019ll bet their lives are easier than mine. And more\nnormal. Having a wannabe-rocker mom who recently decided to tour the planet\nwith her heavy metal band isn\u2019t exactly what I\u2019d call normal\u2026or easy. Especially\nif you\u2019re eleven and just want to enjoy your summer vacation, hang with your\nfriends\u2026you know, the normal<\/em> stuff.\nSeems simple enough\u2014for other kids anyway. Not for me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re going to love living with\nyour grandparents,\u201d Mom says as we cram most of my earthly possessions into the\nback of our old minivan. \u201cAnd Cedarville is absolutely charming.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIsn\u2019t that the place you usually\ncall Nowheresville<\/em>?\u201d I wedge my box\nof art materials between my duffel bag and backpack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, that\u2019s because I was a kid\nthen.\u201d She frowns as I pick up my Little\nMermaid<\/em> sleeping bag. And, okay, this bag\u2019s way too juvenile for someone my\nage, but for some reason, I couldn\u2019t leave it behind. My mom would just toss it\ninto the throw-away pile.
\n\u201cI\u2019m a kid now<\/em>.\u201d I shove the sleeping\nbag into a tight corner, punching Sebastian right in the choppers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, but you\u2019re a very mature\nkid, Zoey.\u201d She closes the hatchback and turns to me. \u201cYou\u2019re one of those old souls<\/em>, born wise beyond your years.\u201d\nShe pats me on the head, jingling her keys in my face like her clue that we\u2019re\noutta here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well, that just makes me angrier. Like\nmy childhood has been stolen from me, like I\u2019m not allowed to be a kid. Like\nI\u2019m supposed to act mature and grown-up simply because my parents never have.\nIt\u2019s wrong. Unfair and just plain selfish. But instead of throwing the hissy\nfit I want to, I get into our old beater, which smells like dirty socks and stale\npotato chips, and slam the door so hard that the van shakes. Without saying a\nword, I snap my seat belt on and glare out the window. My plan? To freeze her\nout.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we leave Seattle, I completely ignore her lame attempts\nat conversation. And for the next few hours of our boring road trip, I don\u2019t utter\na single word. Even when we stop for a bathroom break, I don\u2019t speak. When she\nasks if I\u2019m hungry, I don\u2019t answer. I simply get back into the van. Even though\nI didn\u2019t eat breakfast and my stomach is rumbling, I don\u2019t care. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe I\u2019ll starve to death. That\u2019d\nteach her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As she continues driving into Oregon, I decide that I\nwill never speak to her again. And she\u2019s probably glad<\/em> I\u2019m not talking. And more glad that I\u2019ll be out of her hair\nbefore long. I sneak a glance at the strange woman behind the wheel. Totally oblivious\nto my broken heart, she hums to herself like she hasn\u2019t a care in the world.\nLike she\u2019s perfectly happy! Probably dreaming of her new life on the road with\nher weird band friends\u2014imagining the crowd\u2019s applause and that she\u2019s the star\nof the show. Sickening. And delusional. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even my BFF, Sofia Gray, whose dad\nis a real professional musician, doesn\u2019t get it. Her dad is always saying, \u201cFame\ntakes years of hard work.\u201d And Sofia\ntold me that he thinks my mom must be crazy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think he might be right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I snatch a glance at my mom\u2019s new hairstyle.\nFor as long as I can remember, her naturally brown hair was shoulder-length and\nhighlighted to look blonde. But now it\u2019s cropped short and dyed jet black with\nneon-blue tips that stick out like an electrocuted porcupine. She changed her\nhair like she changed her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead of being Saundra Petrizzo,\nmy mom now goes by KT Love<\/em>. I have no\nidea what KT stands for. I take a peek at the elongated skull tattoo on the\nside of her neck. She got that several months ago, along with the Sanskrit\nsymbols that she claims translate to say \u201cLive love dangerously.\u201d But since she\ndoesn\u2019t actually read Sanskrit, I suspect it means something stupid\u2014like, \u201cBeans\ncause gas.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I honestly wonder why this weird-looking\nwoman ever wanted to be a mother in the first place. Maybe she didn\u2019t. She\u2019s\nalready made it clear she didn\u2019t want to be a wife. And that my biological\nfather, a man I\u2019ve never met, didn\u2019t want to be a dad. I\u2019m tempted to open my\nmouth to question her maternal instincts, to demand to know how she can abandon\nher only child, but I won\u2019t break my silence. With my arms still folded tightly\nacross my chest, I slump down in my seat, jut out my jaw, and remain fully resolved\nto never ever speak again. To anyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know why you\u2019re being so\nstubborn about this new adventure.\u201d She reaches over to give my ponytail a\nfriendly tug, but I jerk it away from her. \u201cYou know, honey, I\u2019m doing this for\nyou as much as for me. Grams and Gramps are so excited to have you come live\nwith them, to finally get to know you. They\u2019ve felt bad we were in Seattle. And when I make\nit big\u2014and I know I will\u2014I\u2019ll be able to come back and give you all the things\nwe\u2019ve never been able to have before. Don\u2019t you get it, Zoey? I\u2019m doing this\nfor us. For you and for me. You\u2019re usually such a bright and thoughtful girl.\nWhy can\u2019t you understand this? Why can\u2019t you accept it?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My answer is to simply turn away\nand stare out the side window as if the evergreen trees whizzing by are fascinating.\nMy mom lets out a long, dramatic sigh, probably trying to guilt me into talking.\nNot. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I bite into my lower lip,\ndetermined not to cry. I hate to be a crybaby. So humiliating, so juvenile. I\nwill not<\/em> cry\u2026will not cry!<\/em> Tears won\u2019t make this easier. I might as well accept this\nstupid, stupid move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I might as well accept that life as\nI knew it is over.<\/p>\n\n\n