My life has been the biggest challenge for me. I mean, I guess that’s normal. But, I’m not one of those people who are like, “Oh, my life is so horrible because I didn’t get an A on my test!”
Because, well… my life is way worse than that.
My name is Biana De Prau. I was born in Michigan, but all of my ancestors were born in Paris or London.
I always get straight A’s. I always am the best in sports.
But… my family history? Not so much.
My dad left us when I was just a little tot. He was drunk at the time, and, by drunk, I mean, he drank a whole bar of wine.
Mom always tells me that he’s dangerous. I always try and get his phone number, but it’s almost impossible to find a drunk guy’s number.
But, that was just the beginning.
My grandma died on purpose. She told me that she hated her life and her family, that she even hated me (you could imagine my shock), and that my grandpa was too annoying for her.
I just sat there and took it all.
But, the next day, she had drank gallons of juice and wine and ate dozens of cookies and sweets.
She died a little while after that.
And you could imagine my mom’s sorrow.
“Biana,” she sobbed one night in her room, “Promise me that you will never, under any circumstances, be as ignorant as Grandma and Dad.”
I promised her with all my heart.
Except, all of my grandparents were dead by the next year.
And that’s when Mom’s ‘bright idea’ struck.
“Biana, where’s your suitcase?” Mom asked one Saturday morning when I came out of the shower in my rose dress. I was about to brush my wavy shoulder-length brown hair when Mom creaked open my bathroom door.
“Uh, why, Mom?” I asked, nearly dropping the hair blower. Mom sighed, her long brown hair resting at her hips. “Are we… going on a vacation?”
“Sure, I guess–if you wanna think of it like that.”
Mom came into the room and searched my walk-in closet on the side.
“Mom, what are you doing? Where are we going? When are we going? What should I wear? Are we going to meet a cousin or something–”
“Biana, you’re asking so many questions that you’re overwhelming me!” Mom got up and looked at me. “We are definitely not going to meet any cousins. Ever!”
“Mom, you okay?” I asked, following her into my closet again. Whoa, okay… my closet was a mess.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” she dug through a pile of socks. “We’re moving.”
“What?” I shrieked, throwing my arms in the air. “Why? I have so many friends here! I don’t even–”
“We’re moving to Paris,” Mom continued. “In a lakeside cabin. Right next to the beach.”
“I don’t even know how to swim.”
“Then take swimming lessons!”
“Mom, it’s not even April! It’s mid-summer break!”
“I know…” Mom replied, confused. “Now, hurry up and find your suitcase. We got to pack. I already packed my clothes, anyways.”
I looked at my mom with tears in my eyes as I dug through my clothes for my suitcase. I blinked back those tears as I realized what Mom really meant: We were starting a new life.