When my alarm went off a couple of hours later, I dragged myself out of bed and took a hot shower. Wiping the steam from the mirror, I glanced at my reflection – pale skin, long auburn hair, and hazel eyes. I thought I was pretty average, except for the fact that I was barely five-feet and had a hard time finding shoes that fit, because my feet were so small. I wore a size three and had a heck of a time shopping for shoes that didn’t light up or feature a pink pony.
After I slipped on a blue Henley and khakis, I grabbed a brush and pulled my hair up into a ponytail. When I was finished in the bathroom, I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” said my mom, who was sitting at the counter, drinking coffee behind her laptop.
“Morning,” I said, opening up the refrigerator. I cleared my throat. “Heard anything from Aunt Jody yet?”
“She hasn’t heard from your cousin yet.”
I pulled the orange juice out and glanced at her. There were shadows under her eyes and she looked worn out. She’d obviously been up the entire night. “Well, it’s still pretty early.”
She removed her reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, I know.”
“Don’t worry, she’ll show up,” I said, pouring myself a glass of juice.
“I hope so. You know, it’s dangerous out there in the world, especially for women. A guy could slip something into your drink, follow you home, rape –”
“Yes, I know,” I cut in. I knew I was being snippy, but I’d already heard it many times before. My mom was a court reporter and after hearing so many horrible cases, she was a little paranoid. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m one of the last people you need to worry about.”
She reached over the counter and squeezed my hand. “Chelsey,” she said, staring into my eyes. “I’ll always worry about you. I’m your mother and you’re a pretty girl. There are a lot of bad people in this world.” She sighed. “I just want you to be safe.”
“I know. I get it, mom,” I said as she released my hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you worry about me. But, I’m not Melody, okay? I’m responsible and certainly not stupid.”
“You don’t have to be stupid to be a victim,” she replied. “But making the right decisions can certainly help lessen your chance of becoming one.”
I put my glass into the sink and picked up my backpack. “That’s why you don’t have to worry about me. I always make the right decisions.”
“Right,” she said, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Joking aside, I am very proud of you, honey. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“I will,” I replied as I walked out of the kitchen. “See you when I get home.”