Or a great anything.” I added.“Joshua Lyle Anderson! Your mother may be a terrible cook, and ... wait, where was I going with this?” Catherine l...ughed.Apparently, Catherine and Robert knew my mother first hand now, and were none too pleased with her.“Nowhere. Look at what she did with Grand mama’s estate.” I pointed out.“He’s got a point. If my niece had any sense, she would’ve found a financial advisor instead of blowing all that money.” Robert said.Wait, Robert was my mother’s uncle? Oh wow.. “We haven’t had a chance to unpack,” Martina says as I walk back down the hallway, down the stairs and into the living room. I look into the kitchen and see more boxes.“We should start with the kitchen,” I say as Martina smiles. Martina starts opening boxes as I start putting things where I think they should go. Martina talks as we unpack.“As soon as my father found out that you weren’t at the school anymore he was pissed,” Martina starts to explain. “And when the school wouldn’t give him any. John moved to the exit of his school and took out the keys to his car. It didn't take long for him to realize that his head was beginning to throb. John set down his guitar and saw himself or rather Elisha Moving to her car, the only thing was Elisha usually parked her car in the opposite side of the school and out of sight of John. John shrugged it off as a hallucination and went home.When John got home he made his way up to his room, which was clad in Movie and Band Posters. Setting, his. I am seventeen, nearly eighteen years old, a five-foot-six tall blond, slim and rather attractive, so friends of both sexes tell me. One evening a week, I attend a Further Education college with my best friend Debbie Smart to study "A" level Sociology because my school doesn't deliver this qualification. We require this for the university courses we had identified, so this proved ideal and recommended by our teachers. I wasn't selected as a Prefect in my final year, much to my parent's.