"Is this really necessary? I mean, really," Bridgette complained for the millionth time. She was in the back seat of the car her mom rented. It looked old and like it might break down at any moment, but since her mom was cheap, they got it anyway. Bridgette had her feet propped up on one of the windows and was laying on her back across the seats. She hadn't been in any car, unless you count a tractor as a car. Which she doesn't. Already, Bridgette missed Ireland. It was quiet and peaceful there, but already she had been shoved onto a plane and now cramped into a small car. This had to be torture, it was almost like a cage.
"Yes, it is necessary. I can't have you putting your brothers under some spell to do laundry," her mother mutters, fingers turning white as she clutched the steering wheel. She really hated when Bridgette questioned her.
"Ma! That was
once. It won't happen again, promise! Besides, I didn't mean to..."
Her mother didn't answer, and the rest of the ride was awkwardly silent. Bridgette sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Did she remember to pack her brush? Yeah, she must have. Her mother had been barking orders at her all week. All too soon, her mother pulled up to some place and told Bridgette that they had arrived. Next thing Bridgette knew, her and her bags were pushed out of the car. By the time she stood up, her mom was driving away.