when she should've. I was pretty sure sleeping hadn't gone any better. I needed to make sure she actually made it to school so I could make it to my first day of work.
"Gabby, let's go!" I yelled up the stairs.
I could hear her tromping around, so I knew she was awake. The problem was that I didn't trust her not to pull some crap to get out of this. I needed to make sure she had time to change clothes, wash her face, or repair whatever other rebellious thing she'd try next.
"Gabriella Sophia!" I bellowed, invoking the power of her full name. "Two minutes, or I'm coming up there."
Her door was wrenched open, and she stormed onto the landing above me. "I was making sure I had all my things, ok?"
She was wearing a pair of jeans and the same black shirt Ashley had bought for her. It wasn't really the kind of thing a fourteen-year-old should wear, in my opinion, but I could imagine a lot worse, and it didn't violate any dress codes. It just made her look older, prettier, and a little too grown-up for my taste. It made her look like a young lady who would start dating this year, and I really wasn't ready for that.
"You have your schedule?" I asked her.
She groaned and marched back to her room, calling behind her, "In my bag, Mom."
"Ok. And I'm going to guess that you don't want me walking you to the bus stop?"
She huffed loud enough that I could hear it coming out of her room. "What difference does it make? Everyone already knows you're my mom. Just like they all know we're the poor people and here because we're just the staff."
"Hey," I snapped. "That's enough."
"You should just let me go back to my old school with my friends! At least with them, I wasn't the only Latina."
No, that wasn't happening. I didn't really care how much she hated me. Never mind that I'd seen other people of color at the cookout yesterday. I was sure that some of them had kids. She just wanted to avoid the stress of meeting new people, and I couldn't really blame her. The friends she had before were comfortable and easy. Now, they'd forget all about her, and in a few weeks, she'd forget all about them, too.
"You'll change your mind when I get paid and can buy you new clothes for this year," I countered. "C'mon, you're going to be late, and the last thing you need is to be seen getting out of our car if I have to drop you off at school because you missed the bus."
That did it. Ok, I probably shouldn't have been pushing her buttons, but it was seven in the morning, I hadn't made myself a coffee yet, and I was a little nervous about my own first day of work. So what if I was cutting corners? I'd worry about it after she was safely in school, learning something productive.
And exactly two minutes later, Gabby came down the stairs with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She didn't even bother to stop when she stormed past me. I got one last dirty look, then she reached for the front door.
"Just let me get over there before you show up, ok? And none of that stupid mom crap, like waving at me?"
I nodded, understanding that she didn't want to be embarrassed, but hating it at the same time. This was my baby, after all. "Have a good day at school, ok?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I love you, Gabby. Whether you believe me or not, I really do."
That made her finally give in. "I know, Mom. I love you too, I just don't want to be the new girl."
Then she was gone. She didn't slam the door, so I was going to call this a victory. Mostly, since I could understand. My own father had been in the military, so we'd moved around a lot. The problem was that at Gabby's age, everything burned so brightly, and she couldn't imagine a time when this would be just one more memory for her to laugh about.
But I'd give her this one thing. I wouldn't make a scene. I wouldn't demand a hug or wave at her like she was five. Granted, in my mind, she'd always be that fat little baby I'd brought home from the hospital, but she wouldn't understand until she had her own child to raise. Until then, my place was