Aitches, Dead Men's Shoes

I sit on my bed and try to zone out. In the summer I tend to lose track of days. In this new town there is not a whole lot to do but read. Coming home from boarding school has only made things more confusing. I hate it there but I hate it even more when I come home. Now there is no home, we are in a new house entirely. Even though school was hell at least there was something to do everyday. There were people around, not that I had any friends, except Joey. The sun hits my eyes and I put on my sunglasses. I sit in my new room and try not to think. The movers are lifting and shouting outside. As they move all of my mothers furniture into the house. I here them grunting as they lift another antique but the music is as loud as it will go. Something taps my shoe and I try to ignore it. I focus my mind deep inside, I try to escape. the tapping continues, it is persistent. Slowly I take off my glasses and peer through the glare streaming in through my shadeless windows. My mother is mouthing something and yanking at invisible headphones. I turn off the music,
"What?"
"Sweety, the movers need to get in here."
She glares at me but her mind is already unfocused. She has moved on and past me, im crossed off the list and now she looks at the window. Her better homes and gardens mind probably thinking what pattern would best suit my room when I move out in the fall. I remove myself from the bed and pass the movers as they grapple with an ancient armoire that holds my cloths.
"Careful."

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