As much as I didn't wanna believe she'd leave, I kind of knew she wouldn't stay. My mom. It's always been like she didn't wanna be around me - hiding. Quiet nights would often lead me to the kitchen, secretly passing Mom's bedroom to see if she was in the house. Majority nights she was never home.

If she was, though, she'd have a big man in bed with her - wrapped around him like she needed him. Him holding the little woman that she is like, she always belonged to him. That's a lie.

"How about we go out for dinner?" I'd ask when she came dragging through the doors, heels in hand, every night.

When she didn't answer I'd even go as far as asking her to invite her new boyfriend of that week, "it'll be fun."

"Not tonight, Syd."

A few phone calls later, tapping of her phone screen, shower water running and clicks of heels the front door finally opens and slams shut - once again leaving me to myself. Gone. Watching her go, from the comfort of kitchen furniture.

Perfect, if not perfection, we seemed here inside the gates of Homewood - in these massive houses, with green lawns and loads of rose gardens. Gorgeous kids and pretty moms. It looked like we had it all together, especially when we had gatherings where every family is out, matching bright colors showing off their overgrown children with bright smiles. Gosh, we are even massive liars and apparently a little unsteady. And for people like me, this was home. This life - is all I know.

One of our favorite annual events we'd attend together was the Nurturing Campaign where they'd celebrate the parents of Homewood and even some from the East End. The name of the event was funny, the people who attended were even funnier. Francesca, the mother of the leading jock - Jordan, stood on the podium and gave a speech on how she taught her child to respect women - how respectful her young gentlemen is to us, girls. Yes, us pretty girls. It's a joke. Reese and I would throw our heads back in sarcastic, complimentary of those posh moms who wore Victoria Beckham jumpsuits and Tory Burch flip flops, cheating husbands attached at hips, finally wearing their wedding bands.
Never to see them sweat, you will not.

The young adults were respectful and their elders well-behaved in public.

Mom was obsessed with the other moms loving her, thinking she had the best children - Jo and I, held to an impossible expectation of what our lives should be like, grades, who we should date, our friends, what kind of earrings we wore with our pink dresses.

"Your pink doesn't match mom's," Jo pointed out, while making her way past my table that faced the exit. The pink was pastel - light and dull, beautiful and boring.

I could have sworn it was, when I looked down and saw that it wasn't exactly the same color I was slightly embarrassed of my inability to look the part.

I shrugged, "Well"

"Go change."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because mom's going to yell at you and no one want to here all that."
I scuffed, "now you're worried about me?"

"Sydney, this means a lot to mom. You know that. Not today." She was practically begging me now. Always wanting to please mom. Always wanting to be the do-gooder. Always wanting to be the favorite.

I decided to change. I followed the fake grass that graced the massive house and found myself finally standing in my driveway. Surprisingly I had the exact color of pink sitting in my closet, and even though my mom and probably Jo would be looking for me back at the party soon, for another greeting round. I stood in the mirror that replaced the wall in the second living space, examining the girl who was looking back at me. I was 15, then. And I didn't know that my reflection could be completely different from what I felt like. How I saw myself, was not how that mirrored portrayed me, my eyes weren't normally glassy and I wasn't frowning.
Whatever, that was 2 years ago.

I found mama, Jo, and Reese circled up, beside the alcohol table as if they were actually the Jones. She absolutely loves Reese, but Reese isn't a Homewood native, so she'll never be good enough for us and she'll never understand.

Your accessories are key, my mom would tell Jo and I behind closed doors. Make the best choices, she said, with your company and what you wear. Smiles, earrings, dresses and Reese.

Mason was there, too, hiding behind his mother who was just as gorgeous as any of the others. As they pushed through the crowd, he followed closely behind, his mom gripping tightly to his hand, people turned and stared their wine tipping over and staining the grass. I'm sure they've never actually seen a real overgrown boy who's actually respectful and honestly adored his mom.
Even though her hair was short it framed her face nicely, her thighs weren't hotdogs and her skin wasn't silky smooth. She mirrored natural moms. Maybe that's why her and her baby, like us, sat alone under the tent closet to the exit, away from all the burnt sun tans and liposuction asses - Reese and I, they seemed to want to get the hell out of there.

When they gathered everyone for "talk" group, in the main living space, I noticed that a lot of patients resembled parents I'd seen back home.
No one seemed crazy.
No one looked crazy. But I did wonder if they'd been caught wailing in their driveway and ended up here. Constantly terrorized by a fluffy, animal. Betrayed by the one they love the most.

Obviously, mistakes were made or we wouldn't be sitting here staring into each other faces, but these children born and raised in Homewood were perfect, nonetheless.

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This chapter is a bit LONGER, BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY IT!

P.S. I hope this didn't disappoint xxcribaybeexx :)

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XX, Lisa