2. Being a Statistic
" Tara! Hurry up! You're going to be late for school!" my mom yells at me.
Yeah, she won't even let me drive to school. Or work. Or anywhere.
" Okay!" I yell back.
I finish putting on my boots and walk out of my bedroom.
We live in a middle-class house in a nice neighborhood. It's one-story, but that's all we need. We live in Tarpon Springs, Florida. It's all about boats and sponges here. My mother owns a Greek bakery downtown and my father is a sponge diver. We used to go down to the docks all the time, until I got pregnant. Now we just sit in silence at our meals and the only subject seems to be me. Even my little brother, Jake, seems to have changed. He's only twelve, but he understands everything we say. I guess I'm a good bad example for him to follow.
" Good morning, Tara," my mother smiles at me. I can tell that she's upset by the way that her smile is shaking. I inherited that quirk from her.
" I'm ready to go," I sigh.
She exhales dramatically and opens the front door. It's just beginning to look like fall, and there's a calm breeze.
School is going to be hell.