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Lily's parents have just gotten a divorce and she is forced to move to Washington to live with her grandma.
1. Chapter 1
Word Count 504
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I sat on our big cream couch watching the minutes pass by slowly on the tall old grandfather clock while my parents argued in the back room. I think they thought I couldn't hear them, but I could.
"I am the one who has raised her, her whole life so far and you can't even watch her for four years? She is fourteen, she doesn't even need that much care anymore." my mother yelled.
"I don't know how to raise a kid, she should be your responsibility." replied my dad. He never did do anything with me because he was too busy in his work. I am sure he did a good job though, because we always had plenty of money. The fighting went on like this for hours as one small tear drizzled down my cheek. My parents are newly divorced and they obviously didn't want anything to do with me.
"Why can't you be the father for once? I just want to start a new life." I heard my mom whisper sadly. I leaned closer to the door so I could hear what my dad was going to reply.
"Don't you think I want the same thing?" My dad answered back. I got up to leave, I didn't want to hear any more. I ran out the front door and hid underneath my favorite willow tree as I cried myself to sleep.
The next day my mom told me that I had to pack up all of my things because I was going to live with my grandmother in Washington.
"Now honey, don't cry," my mom was saying, "Lily, It's not like we don't want you, we just think you would have a better upbringing at your grandma's house. It won't be that bad." I took in a deep breath. I couldn't believe that she was lying to my face! I looked around I saw the happy smiles of families together. There was both a mom and a dad with their kids, and they were happy together. They were together and going on family vacations with each other. I wondered if I could ever be that happy again.
"We are now boarding flight 347. Heading out of Sacramento, California to Port Angeles, Washington" The intercom rang out across the airport. I picked up my bags and gave both my mom and dad a hug.
Without another word, I turned around and moved towards the plane that was heading to Port Angeles. From there my grandma was going to pick me up and drive me into her reservation.
My grandma was half Quileute and lived on their reservation. She got married to an English gentlemen and they had my mom, who was a quarter Quileute. She married my dad who is from Denmark and they had me. I guess I am one eighth Native American, but I am the farthest thing from. I have soft, wavy, blond hair and fair, freckled skin. I am sure I was going to fit in perfectly.