One Big Mess

By Melody Loomis

Fourteen-year-old Gracie Taylor lives in a messy house, but it's not her mess. Her mother has been a compulsive hoarder for the last six years, and it's only getting worse. Their kitchen is covered with towers of Tupperware. The dining room table is buried under clutter. And in the living room, clothing fills every available space.

 

Her back-at-home sister promises to help, but all she seems to do is argue with their mother. Her best friend Jilly is no help either. She's too concerned about her new boyfriend at her new school to listen to Gracie's problems. Meanwhile, her mother continues to fill the house with junk.

 

If Gracie can't get her mother's hoarding under control, she can kiss her dreams of film school goodbye. Gracie is the one who takes out the trash. Gracie is the one who keeps the toilets functional. Gracie is the one who clears the clutter blocking the exits. If left to her own devices, her mother would become a level five hoarder in no time.

 

Her only hope is to get her mother on Clean It Up!, a show that helps compulsive hoarders. But getting her on the show won't be easy. Fortunately, with the help and support of her film club friends, Gracie forms a plan. It might just take filming the biggest documentary of her life to make it happen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melody Loomis
• Release date: Jun 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201352127

Melody Loomis

Melody Loomis writes adult contemporary romance and young adult fiction with female protagonists. She's a member of the #5amwritersclub and enjoys posting pictures of her cats, Ava and Lucy, on social media. She works as a library assistant and lives in southeastern North Carolina.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

MY MOM STARTED HOARDING six years ago. It was little stuff at first. Extra yarn for her crochet projects. Small bottles of paint for her various crafts. Then she started to hoard magazines, because she wasn’t going to throw them out if she hadn’t read them yet. She said she would read them eventually, but she never did. After that, she hoarded anything and everything.

Over the last two years, her new thing to hoard was empty gallon-sized water bottles. She thought we were going to have another hurricane and we’d run out of water, so she saved them so that we could refill them. Only every one of those bottles had a funny smell inside them, and no one wanted to drink out of them anymore.

While Mom was sleeping, I gathered a handful of bottles and took them to the garage—which, just like our house, was filled to the brim with junk. Every time I stepped on one of the bottles to flatten it, it made a loud crunching sound. I crushed as many of them as I could and stuffed them in a garbage bag. When the bag was full, I planned to put them in the recycling can outside. Mom wouldn’t miss them. Well, as long as I left a few of them out at least.

Gracie? Mom called from inside. Gracie, where are you?

I’d accidentally left the door to the garage cracked, and as her voice grew louder, I scrambled to get the plastic bottles out of sight before she saw them.

The door opened and Mom’s large form filled the doorway. Her blond hair was a tangled, frizzy mess. She had bedhead in the late afternoon. Gracie, what are you doing out here?

I’m just looking for something, I lied. I need a prop for my film.

What’s that noise I keep hearing?

I just stepped on something. As I moved toward the door, my foot bumped into one of the crushed plastic bottles. I watched as it went flying across the floor.

Mom looked at the bottle, then looked at the garbage bag, and I knew she was putting two and two together.

Gracie! I told you we need to save these! Mom picked the plastic bottle off the floor. She tried to bend it back into shape, but I had crushed it too much.

I think we have enough, Mom. We can stop saving them.

We have to keep them in case we have a hurricane! If the water gets turned off, we’re going to need water for drinking, water for flushing the toilet.

I’m sorry.

Mom sighed. Well, we can’t save these. They’re ruined now. Just throw these out, but don’t flatten any more. We need them.

Mom tossed the bottle on the floor, then went back into the house. I picked the warped plastic up and shoved it into the garbage bag. If I hadn’t been so careless with leaving the door cracked open, I could have filled a whole bag.

In the house, Mom sat on her recliner. She had an open bag of Cheetos on her lap and was licking the orange dust off her fingers. I made a mental note to throw the bag away later—otherwise, it would end up on the floor, just like everything else.

I headed to my room and stepped over the pile of clothes and junk that littered our hallway. Every time Mom left the house, she came back with something new. A new blouse. A porcelain doll from an antique store. The funniest thing was a broom that came with one of those upright dustpans. Like she’d actually do any sweeping.

Whatever she acquired, it ended up on the floor. She’d say it was temporary until she found a place for it. She never did. There wasn’t room to keep the stuff anywhere else.

When I made it to my room, I shut the door and left the clutter behind. My room was my sanctuary. In here, I could keep everything organized, or at least I tried to. Occasionally, Mom’s things ended up here too. The only thing I was okay with keeping were the plastic bins of Mom’s crafts, but only because they weren't in the way.

I reached for my phone. Still no message from Jilly. I’d texted her five hours ago and she still hadn’t responded. How busy could she possibly be on a Sunday afternoon? I bet she was spending all her time with her new friends at her new school.

Mom tapped on my door. Gracie, you want to order a pizza for dinner?

Okay. I was tired of pizza. It wasn’t that I didn’t love pizza, but Mom liked to save the boxes. She wanted to do some craft with them, but she never got around to it. I pulled up the reminders on my phone and added to my list:

-  Throw away Cheetos bag

-  Throw away pizza box

I moved to my bed and picked up the remote. I had homework to do, but I couldn’t think of algebra right then. I pulled up my favorite show.

Clean It Up! was a show about hoarders like my mom. It was hard to believe there were enough hoarders to make an entire show about it, but I felt better knowing there were other houses like ours. Watching also helped because maybe I could get some ideas about how to stop Mom’s hoarding.

My phone rang, and I jumped to answer it, hoping it was Jilly. It was my sister instead.

Hey, Claire, I said.

Hey, Gracie. Doing okay? How’s high school?

Brutal. I have more homework than ever and I still haven’t made any new friends. I sit alone in the cafeteria every day, so I’ve started leaving early to go to the library.

I’m sorry. It’ll get better. Join some clubs or try out for a sport. You’ll meet some new people.

That was easy for Claire to say. She was a social butterfly and was always making new friends.

How’s the house? Claire asked. Is it still a mess?

What do you think?

There was a pause before Claire spoke again. Is it worse than the last time I was there?

I watched as a roach crawled under my door and made its way along the edge of my carpet. Yeah, you could say that.

I’m sorry, Gracie.

She’s still collecting plastic bottles. I tried to get rid of a bunch of them, but she caught me. I’ll have to wait until she leaves the house to try again.

Well, look, I didn’t just call to chat. I have some news. I’m moving back home.

You’re coming home? I thought of my sister’s bedroom down the hall. You couldn’t open the door all the way because of the clutter packed behind it.

Yeah, so I’ll help you clean up the house, okay?

Your room is packed with stuff. You won’t be able to sleep in there unless you clear it out. But you can sleep in my room.

Oh, I’m not sleeping in the house. Jane has an apartment and needs a roommate, and I need a place to live, so I’ll be staying with her.

Oh. Hearing that didn’t make me feel better. I had hoped Claire would be here at home, but at least she wouldn’t be all the way in New York.

I’m sorry, but you know Mom and I don’t get along.

Yeah, I know. Hey, wait, what about your job at that fashion magazine? It had been Claire’s dream to work at a fashion magazine, and she loved it. At least I thought she did.

That’s over. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later.

When will you be here?

The end of the week, or earlier if I can clear out my apartment sooner. But it’ll probably be sometime Friday night.

I thought of Claire going up and down all those stairs at her New York apartment with her belongings. She lived in what they called a fifth-floor walk-up. That meant there was no elevator. And then I remembered Claire didn’t have a car anymore.

How are you getting home? Are you renting a car?

You remember my friend Greg in Jersey who bought my car? He’s selling it back to me. He gave me a great deal, too, because now he’s got a place to live in the city. He’s going to take over my apartment.

Should I tell Mom you’re moving back?

Don’t bother. I wouldn’t want her to go through all the trouble of cleaning up the house for me.

Both of us laughed, because our mom never cleaned up for company, though she never had much company either.

Then I stopped laughing, because I thought of how Mom always talked about how proud she was of Claire. She was always looking at her school pictures, too. "I know you two argue all the time, but I think she really misses you. Modern Fashionista is the only magazine she reads religiously from cover to cover. She looks for your name in the bylines."

I was only an intern. I told her I didn’t do that kind of work.

I know, but she knows it’s what you want to do. I guess she keeps hoping they’ll give you a real job.

I heard Claire sigh. Okay, you can tell her I’m moving back home. Tell her I’ll drop by whenever I get settled at Jane’s apartment. Look, I have to go. I’ll text you when I’m leaving, okay?

Okay.

I love you, Gracie. And join some clubs!

I smiled. Okay. Love you too.

I hung up and looked at my text messages again. Still no response from Jilly. Not even an indication that she was typing a reply.

I tossed my phone aside and went back to watching Clean It Up!

In this episode, a woman had let all fifty-seven of her animals take over the house, and there was dog feces and cat piss everywhere. At least our house wasn’t that bad.

CHAPTER 2

I FINALLY HEARD FROM Jilly the next morning. She sent me a text at 11:03, after I had already gone to bed.

So sorry I missed your text! My phone died! I miss you too!

I wanted to ask what she was doing all day where she couldn’t be near a phone charger, but I was running late for school and didn’t have time to text her.

In the kitchen, I made my way around the towers of Tupperware containers and looked in the pantry. I decided to pack my lunch today. That way, I could eat outside and avoid sitting by myself in the cafeteria. The only problem was that I couldn’t find my old lunch bag.

Mom, where’s my lunch bag?

Mom looked up from the eggs she was scrambling. She could only use one burner for cooking. The rest of the stove was covered with pots and pans. Did you look in the pantry?

It’s not there.

Maybe it’s in the hallway closet.

I walked to the hallway closet and pulled on the door. You could only open it halfway because of the pile of clothes and towels sitting in front of it. I peered inside, but all I could see was junk.

Gracie, you better get a move on. That bus will be here soon.

No kidding, I muttered so quietly that Mom couldn’t hear me. So far this morning, I had spent ten minutes looking for my favorite shirt. Mom had moved it out of the laundry room for some unknown reason. Then, I spent five minutes looking for toothpaste, which was ridiculous. My mom was a dental hygienist and we had a gazillion free samples. Now I was spending an extra few minutes looking for a lunch bag I knew I would never find in this mess.

Mom walked into the living room with her plate of eggs and sausage and eased herself into the recliner. Are you still looking for that lunch bag?

Yeah. Can’t find it. I’ll just use a grocery bag. At least we had plenty of those, and they were all over the house. I grabbed one off the pile on the kitchen counter and started throwing things into it. An apple, some crackers, a container of peanut butter, the rest of the bread. I managed to find a plastic butter knife in the kitchen drawer. I threw a water bottle in there last. It wasn’t the best kind of bag to keep my lunch in, but it would have to do.

I made a mental note to look for my lunch bag later.

AT LUNCH TIME, I GOT my grocery bag lunch out of my locker and went outside. There were some picnic tables in the quad and I sat down at one of them.

Next to the table was a bulletin board where students were free to post information. I browsed through it. There were two flyers for guitar lessons, one advertising babysitting services, another offering homework tutoring, and about ten for missing pets.

Excuse me, said a voice behind me.

I turned to see a boy about my age with a flyer in his hand. He tacked it up on the board and gave me a smile.

How’s it going? He smiled again, and I was too busy thinking about how white his teeth were to think of a response. 

He walked away before I could say anything, and then I felt stupid for being so awkward. I could have introduced myself and made a friend, but instead I just stared at him like I was starstruck. I thought he looked like a young Taye Diggs, so that’s what I started calling him in my mind. Taye Diggs.

I looked at the flyer he had put on the board and smiled. Film club?

I couldn’t believe it. This school was actually cool enough to have one? Now I really wished I had taken a moment to talk to him. Maybe I could have learned more about it.

Join some clubs, Claire had said.

I took a picture of the flyer with my phone. It said: Do you like to act? Do you enjoy writing? Is costume designing your thing? Do you want to learn how to film and edit videos? Then join the film club! Meets every Tuesday and Thursday.

I turned back to my lunch and got out the bread. I was definitely joining.

MOM WAS STILL AT WORK when I got home, but I could tell she had been shopping on her lunch break. There were yellow plastic bags from Dollar General all over the room. I peeked inside one of the bags and saw a pair of flip-flops, sunscreen, and a beach towel. Against the wall, I saw two beach chairs and a beach umbrella with the tag still on it. It was already fall, and my mother was buying beach gear. And the ocean was about an hour away, so we hardly ever went.

I knew what she would say. She would say that it was on clearance and she had bought it super cheap. At the end of every season, when stores tried to clear their shelves for new merchandise, this always happened.

Around 5:30, I heard a car door close outside. I climbed over the mountain of clothes on the couch and peered out the window. Mom slowly made her way to the front door. She was wearing her scrubs with the smiling teeth on them and holding a bag of Wendy’s in her hand.

Hey, I got dinner, Mom said when she walked in. She tossed her keys and purse onto the pile of clothes and headed to the kitchen.

I followed her. Mom, why did you buy all this beach stuff?

It was all on clearance at the dollar store. Summer clearance blowout.

But we don’t need a beach umbrella. We’ve got two in the garage.

Mom moved a stack of books on the table to make room for the Wendy’s bag. I think one of them is broken. And you need more than one umbrella at the beach anyway. Everyone wants to sit under them, and there’s only so much space.

I went to the living room and grabbed the bag with the flip-flops, sunscreen, and towel. Well, what about this? We’ve already got beach towels, and I think we have about five tubes of sunscreen in the bathroom cabinet.

They’re probably expired by now. And my beach towel was falling apart.

I took the flip-flops out. Mom, flip-flops? It’s going to be cold weather soon.

Mom waved off my complaint as she grabbed a small bottle of Pepsi out of the refrigerator. Gracie, this is North Carolina. We get warm winters all the time. Oh, but speaking of flip-flops ... Mom placed the soda on the table and picked up another Dollar General bag. I got these for you. She took out a smaller pair of flip-flops. And look, they have little sequins on the straps. You’d never know I got these for a buck.

Mom handed me the shoes and I looked at the size on the bottom. Mom, these are too small for me.

Mom frowned. Oh. Well, are they Claire’s size?

They were, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. I don’t think so. Can you return them?

I’ll just hold on to them, Mom said, taking the flip-flops back. Claire can try them on when she gets here.

Claire had worked for a fashion magazine. There was no way she’d be caught wearing footwear from the dollar store. But I held my tongue.

Mom eased herself into her recliner with her food on a paper plate. Come on, let’s eat this food before it gets cold. Bring me my soda, will you? I left it on the table.

I picked up the soda along with my food and walked it over to her. I had to move some clothes to the floor so that I could sit down on the couch.

Mom turned on the television. She usually watched the news about this time, but it was on a commercial break. Did you have a good day at school? she asked, then took a big bite out of her cheeseburger.

It was okay. But guess what? I found out my school has a film club. They meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I’m going to stay after school tomorrow and check it out.

That sounds like your kind of club. Do you need me to pick you up?

That’s okay. I’ll ride my bike. I tried to avoid car rides with my mother. I didn’t need the embarrassment of Mom picking me up from school with her junk-filled car. You couldn’t sit in the back seat because it was filled with garbage bags full of clothes. She intended to drop them off at Goodwill, but she never did. They’d been sitting in the car for two years now.

CHAPTER 3

THE NEXT DAY AFTER school, I headed up the stairs and looked for room #201. Mr. Morelli, the computer science teacher, was the faculty advisor for the film club. I didn’t have Mr. Morelli as a teacher this year, but I’d heard he was really cool.

Mr. Morelli’s classroom was at the end of the hallway. There were a few students there already, and everyone looked at me as I entered the room. In the front, I recognized the boy from yesterday, the one I called Taye Diggs. He smiled at me, so I sat next to him.

Hey, you’re that girl from yesterday, he said.

Yeah, I saw your flyer. I can’t believe this school is cool enough to have a film club.

Yeah, Mr. Morelli loves that kind of stuff. He’s awesome. I’m Marcus.

I’m Gracie.

A blond-haired girl I recognized from my English class sat on the other side of Marcus. Hey, Marcus.

Hey. He nodded toward me. Alex, this is Gracie.

Alex leaned forward and smiled. Hey, aren’t you in Mrs. Ingram’s class? Third period?

Yeah, that’s me.

Film club hadn’t started yet, and I already had two potential new friends. Things were looking up.

A tall, dark-haired man walked into the classroom. Mr. Morelli, I presumed. I was surprised more girls weren’t in this club. I thought he was hot in that Italian sort of way.

Is this everyone for the film club? Mr. Morelli asked.

It looked like it was. I counted seven students including me.

All right, let's get started, he said. Everyone wheel your chairs to the front of the room and make a circle. We’ll get to the computers later.

Once we were in a circle, Mr. Morelli pulled up a chair to join us.

All right, welcome to film club. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Mr. Morelli. I’m a really cool guy, and if you haven’t had me as a teacher yet, you probably will eventually. I’ve been doing this club for a couple of years now, and if you’re a new member, I promise you’ll have lots of fun. So, did everyone bring their three ideas with them?

Everyone stared at each other. The flyer said nothing about homework.

Mr. Morelli started laughing. I’m kidding. Just a little first day humor.

We all relaxed.

That being said, this club does require some time outside school hours, and school work always comes first. So if anyone gets in a bind and needs to talk to me about that, come see me. All right? Now, let’s have some fun.

I thought we were going to dive right in with the film stuff, but Mr. Morelli said we were going to do an icebreaker activity first. We must have groaned at that, because then Mr. Morelli said, No, no, this will be fun.

Mr. Morelli told us to each introduce ourselves, tell the group what grade we were in, and why we were interested in the film club.

And finally, I want you to name one thing that you like, and it has to start with the same letter as your first name. So my first name is Mario, and no, I don’t have a twin brother named Luigi.

We laughed.

So I’m Mario, and I like money, because who doesn’t like money?

We laughed again.

Everyone understand? Good. Marcus, how about you start us off?

Marcus sat up straighter and smiled at the group. Hey, I’m Marcus, and I’m a sophomore. I wanted to join the film club because I’d like to be an actor someday. And I also like money.

Mr. Morelli held up his hand. "No, you have to pick something else, Marcus.