Lies

"We had a deal!" I screamed. I was furious. I was twelve years old, standing in the dining room with my parents. Tears were pouring down my face.

"Nikki," Mom said, her complexion soft with empathy. "You can't give up an opportunity like this. This scholarship is worth over a hundred thousand dollars! It is an incredible opportunity to go to one of the best schools in the country."

"I am not going to boarding school!" I spluttered as the tears ran down my face. "We had a deal! I told you I didn't want to sit that scholarship test. I told you there was no point because I wasn't going to that school. I told you. And then you said 'No, no, Nikki. You don't have to go if you get the scholarship. Just keep your options open. Just sit the test. We'll buy you a CD if you just sit the test. You don't have to actually go.' You said that to me!" I wiped my eyes on my hoodie. "And you lied to me. You lied. You lied!"

My parents looked at each other with that knowing look. That wise look. You know the one. It's that look that you give when you know you're doing what's best for your child in the long run, but they can't quite see it yet.

"I don't want to leave Frenchie," I cried as snot ran down my nose.

"You can go riding up in Sydney! Centennial Park has a great riding school there."

"I don't want to ride another horse! I want him. I want my horse." I felt like they were ripping away my best friend. "And I don't want to leave Canna."

"You can come down and visit Canna! She's at the local high school."

My eyes were gushing like waterfalls during heavy rain. Gushing and gushing and gushing. "I don't want to go. Don't make me go. Please don't make me go."