“Abby, we're gonna be late!” yelled my mom.
“I'm coming!” I yelled back.
It was my 13th birthday and my parents were taking me horse back riding. I was looking for my favorite jean jacket, but I couldn't find it.
“Do you know where my jean jacket is?” I asked my mom as I ran down the stairs.
“It's in the closet.” said my mom.
I ran and grabbed my jacket from the closet by the front door. I grabbed my jacket and was about to head out when I saw something that caught my eye. It was a little box that had my name written on it. It was hidden beneath a bunch of coats.
I was about ready to look inside it, but before I could my mom yelled, “Abby! Let's go!”
I took one last look at the box and ran out to the car.
“Took you guys long enough.” said my dad as we got in the car.
“I couldn't find my jacket.” I said from the backseat.
“I told you last night to get everything you were going to need out.” said my mom.
“You didn't even brush your hair.” she said exasperated.
I started brushing my long brown hair with my fingers.
“Here use this.” said my mom handing me a comb.
I tried brushing my hair with the little thing, but it broke.
“We need to get you a haircut.” said my mom.
“It'll just grow out again.” I said.
“Maybe we need to cut it even shorter this time.” said my mom.
“No way.” I said. I liked my long hair.
“Well, if you're not going to take better care of it then it's going to get cut.” said my mom.
“I promise I'll take better care of it.” I said.
My mom never had the problem of long thick hair. She had short light blonde hair that was cut down to her shoulders. My dad had black hair with a little gray in it with light blue eyes. I was the outcast of the family. I had long thick brown hair hazel eyes. I always wondered why I was so different from them. My mom said it was from my great grandmother.
After a 20 minute drive with my mom and I arguing about my hair we were finally there. The whole time we were there I forgot about the box in the closet.