Shana
My duffel bag for the ski trip is extremely heavy. I’m not even close to school, and I’m already drenched in a cold sweat from having it kick into my side. Why couldn’t my mom drive me? And why am I surprised she didn’t? She has never done anything for me, while every other teenager has a parent or a chauffeur that drives them.
With a grunt, I keep on fighting through the snow. It’s slippery as heck, and I think I’m the only person crazy enough to walk in this blizzard. It feels like the weather is giving me a free peeling, and I find myself wishing that I had my own car. My mom could easily afford one, but she doesn’t think I’m worthy of having one.
Not that a car would do me much good. I don’t even have a license since those cost a fortune in this country.
I sigh to myself and
