Categories > Original > Romance
Girl On The Move
1 reviewClarice and her not-so-typical family are always moving around Europe. Clarice has never known what a 'home' feels like. So when she moves to Barcelona, why should she expect any different? Rating ...
1Ambiance
A/N: This is my first story on here, I hope you enjoy it. I currently have up to chapter four written, and I want to have this all written by October (if you view my profile, you may understand why) so I can post quicker for you guys. Assuming you like this, of course. Anyway, this story is somewhat based off my own life from my younger years. From the ages of four through to fifteen, my family and I moved around England a lot. Maybe not quite as much as Clarice and her family in this story, and I did end up back in my home town eventually, though. Also, since the majority of this story in set in Spain, a lot of the dialogue will be in Spanish. I don't speak the language, so if my translations are completely wrong, I apologise. Anyway, enjoy!
I sighed as I took one last look around the empty room. It looked so bare compared to what it had looked like the day before. There was no longer any furniture, not even any cardboard boxes left by now. The walls were still deep blue-purple, and the carpet was still as soft under my feet as before. It hadn't even had time to wear down yet.
We had only stopped at this house for three months. Three months! It wasn't the shortest time we had ever stayed in one place, but it was certainly quite a short stop. We usually stayed for at least four.
I guess I've just gotten used to the idea of moving now. I've been doing it since I was...Well, ever since I can remember. Settling down in one place for more than a year seemed impossible to me. I have never had a sense of home, whatever that might be. The longest I've ever stayed in one place was just under a year, and that was only because my sister had been born during that time. And that was eleven years ago! Ever since then, the longest we had ever stayed in one place was six months. Twenty-four whole weeks in one place had felt like a dream to me. And then we moved again...
I guess I'm just used to the routine by now. I don't even know why we even bother to unpack. It's not like we're ever going stay long enough to use everything we do take from the boxes. I find it stupid and pointless.
"Clarice, come one!" My mother called from the kitchen. At least it had once been a kitchen, now it was a bare space with just a sink, fridge and some empty cabinets.
"I'm coming!" I called back, sighing once again.
My mother was the reason we kept on moving. She claimed it was for her job, which I guess you could pass it off as. But I think the main reason is she can't find a decent boyfriend. Every time she gets dumped we move again. Moving as a whole was stupid and pointless, but moving for the reason she did just made it even more so. We'd only ever gotten into an argument over it once, that was when I was twelve and started to finally understand why we did it so much. I knew it wasn't the normal thing to do, if I ever made a new friend at school they were always shocked at the countless towns, cities and countries I had lived in. It was ridiculous.
I picked myself up off the floor for the last time. I walked over to the door, taking one last look before I shut it behind me. I would probably never come back to Berlin, Germany again. I liked to savor every moment of it before we left.
"So, where we off to this time?" I asked, climbing into the passenger seat of the car. My mother was already in the driver's seat and Teneale, my younger sister, was playing on her Nintendo in the back. Eleven years old and addicted to the blessed thing.
"We, Clarice Maree, are off to..." She always did this. Used my middle name AND trailed off. I hated it. "BARCELONA, SPAIN!"
"YAY!" Teneale called from the back, but I ignored her. She was still too young to understand the reasons. All she knew this time was that we would never be seeing Derek again. Not that I had particularly liked him, he was the type who broke hearts wherever he went. My mom hadn't seen that one until it was too late.
"Barcelona?" I asked. "Haven't we already been there? You're slipping mom..." I teased, leaning my head against the passenger seat window. Not that I remembered the last time we had been in Barcelona, but I knew we had been there at least once before, it was on the list.
"So?" My mom replied, giving my leg a little push with her hand. "Barcelona’s a great place, Clarice, and you will just LOVE the new apartment I got us."
"Lucky me..." I mumbled, snuggling my head into the glass as if it was a pillow. I knew it was going to be one long, agonizing drive. I might as well have tried to catch some sleep. And I did manage to get a few minutes rest, but Teneale had her DS volume up high and my mom had the stereo blasting. There wasn't a lot of chance to catch some shuteye with all the commotion that came with the long drives. This one was almost 19 hours long, making a short stop in Paris before we finally arrived in Spain.
I was used to the moving process by now. My mom drove, Teneale played her DS and I would do anything to take my mind off the journey. I didn't have motion sickness or anything like that. I just always found the journeys to our new place to be...awkward. There was never much to talk about in our small family. Even less so on moving day.
I was grateful when we arrived on our new block. The car came to a halt and I went flying forward, placing my hands out to stop myself from crashing through the front window. My mom's seatbelts did not do a good job at what they were designed to do. In fact, the whole car was falling apart, but she refused to part with it, said it still did what it was supposed to do and that was all we needed.
"We're here!" My mom smiled. I rolled my eyes and Teaneale cheered from the back seat. She was eleven years old but barely four foot tall. And she was still in a booster seat. A bright pink booster seat that I really wanted to take a hammer and blowtorch to.
The three of us all clambered out of the small vehicle as the moving van pulled up behind us. My mom smiled as she stared up wards at the block of apartments in front of us. They weren't exactly anything to smile about. Some could have been in a better condition and others needed to be torn down completely, but they were usable for the few short weeks I knew we were going to be there for.
"See that one?" She pointed to one of the middle windows and I nodded, "That's our new home." I rolled my eyes again. The meaning of home is 'the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.' This was not my home. I hadn't even set foot in it, let alone centered my 'domestic affections' there. This was just an apartment where I would be living until mom had her heart torn into pieces (which I had to clean up) and we moved onto the next one.
Teneale had already raced up to the door, her pink backpack slung over her shoulder in a sloppy fashion. I rolled my eyes for the third time. I always rolled my eyes when it came to my family. They were just something I had to roll my eyes at. We weren't quite functional like a normal family-maybe because we weren't a normal family.
"Come on, Clarice." My mom smiled. "This'll be fun." But she clearly didn't have the same definition of fun as I did.
"I WANT THIS ROOM!" Teneale yelled. She had run straight to find her perfect bedroom. I laughed at her. It was always the first thing she did, and it was quite cute how she did it. I loved my little sister-no matter how annoying she could get-more than anything else in the world. She was the one constant thing I could always count on to be there for me. Not even my mom was always there for us, though she did try. Teneale and I had a special kind of bond.
Constantly moving hadn't fazed Teneale one bit as she grew up. To her it was just one big adventure. To me, a much older and wiser person, it was irritating. As a child I had loved it, one big adventure all the time. Now I hated moving. I just wanted one constant place to call my home, but there was never a chance I'd get what I wanted. Mom didn't believe in settling down, no matter how many times she said 'this place is going to be the last, I can feel it' it never was.
"So," I asked my mom. We were both in the kitchen, unpacking all the cutlery and plates and things like that. "How long are we staying this time?"
"Don't say it like that, Clarice." My mom sighed.
"Why not?" I asked. "We're only going to be packed up and moving again in a few weeks."
"Clarice..."
"But who wants to stay in one place for the rest of their life, right?" I shook my head, placing the last of the glasses in the top cupboard so Teneale couldn't reach and smash them. "I'm going to unpack my stuff..."
My mother didn't say a word to me as I walked into my bedroom. The people from the moving company had placed all of our furniture where we had asked, meaning my room was now 'complete'. I got down on the floor by the bottom of my bed and opened up shoulder bag I had taken in the car with me. I pulled out my laptop, it was the second thing I always did when I got settled into my room. The first was take out the small notebook I kept in the front compartment of my laptop bag at all times and wrote my new address down.
It was getting late anyway, so I probably should have started getting ready for bed. The first thing I did was log onto my blog. I always kept a blog. A record of my moves. My feelings. Whatever I could think of. Quite a lot of people talked to me on it, and it was nice to see that some people were actually interested in my life when I really wasn't.
'Just got here in Barcelona. Finished unpacking the glasses and ran to my room. Another argument with my mother over how long we're staying, but what's new? I haven't even had the chance to unpack yet, but I'd better get a move on, who knows if I'll be able to get everything out before my mom decided to move again, right? It's getting late and I'm tired...Now all I have to do is find the right box for the bed sheets...
Peace and love, Girl On The Move'
**
The cold air hit my face and I tightened my grip on my cardigan. I had always had trouble sleeping on the first night in a new place. It was so unfamiliar, so many new things to be discovered. So, in an attempt to do something other than lie in bed all night, I'd got up and climbed out of my bedroom window.
Now, I didn't do it so I could fall to my death, I did it because my bedroom window led out to the fire escape. Trust me to pick the bedroom closest to the safest route out of the place. At least I was going to be safe if there was ever a fire over the next few weeks.
I was leaning against the unsafe railings, the ones that felt like they would crumble under my arms if I moved even in the slightest, staring out over the city of Barcelona.
"Dificultad para dormir, querida?"
A/N 2: Dificultad para dormir, querida? = Trouble sleeping, dear?
Again, if my translation is wrong, I apologise. If it is wrong and you know the correct translation, don't hesitate to tell me.
Reviews are appreciated, but not necessary.
I sighed as I took one last look around the empty room. It looked so bare compared to what it had looked like the day before. There was no longer any furniture, not even any cardboard boxes left by now. The walls were still deep blue-purple, and the carpet was still as soft under my feet as before. It hadn't even had time to wear down yet.
We had only stopped at this house for three months. Three months! It wasn't the shortest time we had ever stayed in one place, but it was certainly quite a short stop. We usually stayed for at least four.
I guess I've just gotten used to the idea of moving now. I've been doing it since I was...Well, ever since I can remember. Settling down in one place for more than a year seemed impossible to me. I have never had a sense of home, whatever that might be. The longest I've ever stayed in one place was just under a year, and that was only because my sister had been born during that time. And that was eleven years ago! Ever since then, the longest we had ever stayed in one place was six months. Twenty-four whole weeks in one place had felt like a dream to me. And then we moved again...
I guess I'm just used to the routine by now. I don't even know why we even bother to unpack. It's not like we're ever going stay long enough to use everything we do take from the boxes. I find it stupid and pointless.
"Clarice, come one!" My mother called from the kitchen. At least it had once been a kitchen, now it was a bare space with just a sink, fridge and some empty cabinets.
"I'm coming!" I called back, sighing once again.
My mother was the reason we kept on moving. She claimed it was for her job, which I guess you could pass it off as. But I think the main reason is she can't find a decent boyfriend. Every time she gets dumped we move again. Moving as a whole was stupid and pointless, but moving for the reason she did just made it even more so. We'd only ever gotten into an argument over it once, that was when I was twelve and started to finally understand why we did it so much. I knew it wasn't the normal thing to do, if I ever made a new friend at school they were always shocked at the countless towns, cities and countries I had lived in. It was ridiculous.
I picked myself up off the floor for the last time. I walked over to the door, taking one last look before I shut it behind me. I would probably never come back to Berlin, Germany again. I liked to savor every moment of it before we left.
"So, where we off to this time?" I asked, climbing into the passenger seat of the car. My mother was already in the driver's seat and Teneale, my younger sister, was playing on her Nintendo in the back. Eleven years old and addicted to the blessed thing.
"We, Clarice Maree, are off to..." She always did this. Used my middle name AND trailed off. I hated it. "BARCELONA, SPAIN!"
"YAY!" Teneale called from the back, but I ignored her. She was still too young to understand the reasons. All she knew this time was that we would never be seeing Derek again. Not that I had particularly liked him, he was the type who broke hearts wherever he went. My mom hadn't seen that one until it was too late.
"Barcelona?" I asked. "Haven't we already been there? You're slipping mom..." I teased, leaning my head against the passenger seat window. Not that I remembered the last time we had been in Barcelona, but I knew we had been there at least once before, it was on the list.
"So?" My mom replied, giving my leg a little push with her hand. "Barcelona’s a great place, Clarice, and you will just LOVE the new apartment I got us."
"Lucky me..." I mumbled, snuggling my head into the glass as if it was a pillow. I knew it was going to be one long, agonizing drive. I might as well have tried to catch some sleep. And I did manage to get a few minutes rest, but Teneale had her DS volume up high and my mom had the stereo blasting. There wasn't a lot of chance to catch some shuteye with all the commotion that came with the long drives. This one was almost 19 hours long, making a short stop in Paris before we finally arrived in Spain.
I was used to the moving process by now. My mom drove, Teneale played her DS and I would do anything to take my mind off the journey. I didn't have motion sickness or anything like that. I just always found the journeys to our new place to be...awkward. There was never much to talk about in our small family. Even less so on moving day.
I was grateful when we arrived on our new block. The car came to a halt and I went flying forward, placing my hands out to stop myself from crashing through the front window. My mom's seatbelts did not do a good job at what they were designed to do. In fact, the whole car was falling apart, but she refused to part with it, said it still did what it was supposed to do and that was all we needed.
"We're here!" My mom smiled. I rolled my eyes and Teaneale cheered from the back seat. She was eleven years old but barely four foot tall. And she was still in a booster seat. A bright pink booster seat that I really wanted to take a hammer and blowtorch to.
The three of us all clambered out of the small vehicle as the moving van pulled up behind us. My mom smiled as she stared up wards at the block of apartments in front of us. They weren't exactly anything to smile about. Some could have been in a better condition and others needed to be torn down completely, but they were usable for the few short weeks I knew we were going to be there for.
"See that one?" She pointed to one of the middle windows and I nodded, "That's our new home." I rolled my eyes again. The meaning of home is 'the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.' This was not my home. I hadn't even set foot in it, let alone centered my 'domestic affections' there. This was just an apartment where I would be living until mom had her heart torn into pieces (which I had to clean up) and we moved onto the next one.
Teneale had already raced up to the door, her pink backpack slung over her shoulder in a sloppy fashion. I rolled my eyes for the third time. I always rolled my eyes when it came to my family. They were just something I had to roll my eyes at. We weren't quite functional like a normal family-maybe because we weren't a normal family.
"Come on, Clarice." My mom smiled. "This'll be fun." But she clearly didn't have the same definition of fun as I did.
"I WANT THIS ROOM!" Teneale yelled. She had run straight to find her perfect bedroom. I laughed at her. It was always the first thing she did, and it was quite cute how she did it. I loved my little sister-no matter how annoying she could get-more than anything else in the world. She was the one constant thing I could always count on to be there for me. Not even my mom was always there for us, though she did try. Teneale and I had a special kind of bond.
Constantly moving hadn't fazed Teneale one bit as she grew up. To her it was just one big adventure. To me, a much older and wiser person, it was irritating. As a child I had loved it, one big adventure all the time. Now I hated moving. I just wanted one constant place to call my home, but there was never a chance I'd get what I wanted. Mom didn't believe in settling down, no matter how many times she said 'this place is going to be the last, I can feel it' it never was.
"So," I asked my mom. We were both in the kitchen, unpacking all the cutlery and plates and things like that. "How long are we staying this time?"
"Don't say it like that, Clarice." My mom sighed.
"Why not?" I asked. "We're only going to be packed up and moving again in a few weeks."
"Clarice..."
"But who wants to stay in one place for the rest of their life, right?" I shook my head, placing the last of the glasses in the top cupboard so Teneale couldn't reach and smash them. "I'm going to unpack my stuff..."
My mother didn't say a word to me as I walked into my bedroom. The people from the moving company had placed all of our furniture where we had asked, meaning my room was now 'complete'. I got down on the floor by the bottom of my bed and opened up shoulder bag I had taken in the car with me. I pulled out my laptop, it was the second thing I always did when I got settled into my room. The first was take out the small notebook I kept in the front compartment of my laptop bag at all times and wrote my new address down.
It was getting late anyway, so I probably should have started getting ready for bed. The first thing I did was log onto my blog. I always kept a blog. A record of my moves. My feelings. Whatever I could think of. Quite a lot of people talked to me on it, and it was nice to see that some people were actually interested in my life when I really wasn't.
'Just got here in Barcelona. Finished unpacking the glasses and ran to my room. Another argument with my mother over how long we're staying, but what's new? I haven't even had the chance to unpack yet, but I'd better get a move on, who knows if I'll be able to get everything out before my mom decided to move again, right? It's getting late and I'm tired...Now all I have to do is find the right box for the bed sheets...
Peace and love, Girl On The Move'
**
The cold air hit my face and I tightened my grip on my cardigan. I had always had trouble sleeping on the first night in a new place. It was so unfamiliar, so many new things to be discovered. So, in an attempt to do something other than lie in bed all night, I'd got up and climbed out of my bedroom window.
Now, I didn't do it so I could fall to my death, I did it because my bedroom window led out to the fire escape. Trust me to pick the bedroom closest to the safest route out of the place. At least I was going to be safe if there was ever a fire over the next few weeks.
I was leaning against the unsafe railings, the ones that felt like they would crumble under my arms if I moved even in the slightest, staring out over the city of Barcelona.
"Dificultad para dormir, querida?"
A/N 2: Dificultad para dormir, querida? = Trouble sleeping, dear?
Again, if my translation is wrong, I apologise. If it is wrong and you know the correct translation, don't hesitate to tell me.
Reviews are appreciated, but not necessary.
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