Humming to myself, which is what I normally did during the long, dragged out line, I waited for my turn to pay for my lunch that I had everyday: burrito and water. Heh, it was lunch. Much better than what I usually got when I was at home, or, at least, before my ass got sent to some snobby foster home. I mean seriously, who needs a house, no excuse me, mansion that has at least 50 rooms, and not even one-fourth of them are used? It just makes no sense to me. No sense at all.
I finally paid for my everyday lunch, quickly left, and headed for, what I call, My Sanctuary. It was the only place in this god foresaking school that I could be let alone, with no one to see me or bother me. I sloppily tossed my backpack down next to the trunk of the tree, while I unwrapped my burrito and, with much difficulty, opened my water bottle. "Damn things" I cursed aloud, though no one could hear me. Leaning against the rough bark of the whatever the tree was, I slid down till my butt touched the dirt. Hitting the back of my head on trunk, I muttered, "I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot..."
They would be home soon from the bar soon.
The 8-year-old girl watched the clock from the slits that was made in the closer door.
Though the closet was pitch black, you could see her forest green eyes scanning the living room that lay just beyond the door that she was hiding behind. The walls were stained with the smoke from cigarettes, carpet littered with broken glass, and burnt holes scattered about the furniture. Half eaten fast food and garbage lay on the ancient coffee table, flies buzzing near their next meal.
She back away from the door, and crouched in the farthest corner. Her hair fell over her boney shoulders, rippling down her scrawny frame. Not seen in the dark, her hair was a dark caramel, with hints on natural blonde highlights. Her skin was a ghostly pale, for she hasn't seen daylight in over 3 days. The girl's stomach ached with hunger, having it growl in the silence that the night brought. She winced at the sound, ears ringing at this new acquaintance. She huddled closer to the wall behind her, seeing the clock in a red light that she had been accustomed to.
Snapping her head towards the door, she heard a door opening and muffled laughing. Her eyes flashed with fright, mouth slightly parted. The sounds came closer, footsteps resounding in the poor kept household. The stench of alcohol and smoke found its way to the little girls nose, and her muscles tensed.
When her parents came into view, they stumbled to the sunken couch. Laughing uncontrollably, Mr. and Mrs. Caine plopped down, attempting to calm themselves. Mr. Caine's green eyes had a glazed over look, his attire messed with, hair out of place. Opposite of him, Mrs. Caine looked fairly decent. Her clothes were in their proper place, shoes on the right feet, and her light brown hair hung just below her shoulder blades.
Still huddled in the closet, the 8-year-old girl watched quietly, making no sound, wishing, hoping, that they will let her go.
I opened my eyes lazily, letting the sun kiss them lightly. Noticing that there was no one around, I glanced at my watch. "Great, just great." Lunch was way over, and had rolled into 5th period without me. "Ah well. One day won't hurt, eh?" Shifting my sitting position, I rummaged through my backpack until my hand grabbed my notebook, filled with my thoughts and feelings. I liked to write, anything and everything. Drawing was another thing that I liked to do, but clearly I was better at writing. I don't mean to be cocky or brag, but that's just what I think personally. Finding a pen, my hand began to write what my mind told it to. Words flowed freely, lifting weights from my shoulders. I out my headphones on and pressed "PLAY" on my CD player. Celine Dion spilled into my ears as I sang along as quietly as I could. "For all those times you stood by me/ for all the truth that you made me see/ for all the joy you brought to my life/ for all the wrong that you made right" I swayed with the music, letting it wash over me.
"You sing well. Do you take lessons?" A deep male voice proclaimed.
I swear I squeaked, and I hastily took off my headphones and turned down the volume. As I got a better look at the guy that scared me half to death, I noticed that it was none other than Mack Thomas, football captian and Mr. Popular of Red Valley High.
"Christy Caine, right?"
I grunted in response.
"Not much of a talker, are ya?" His navy blue eyes blinked down at me, his red spiked hair showed hints of gel clumped near his hairline. I returned my attention to my drawing, which was becoming more and more like shit. Actually, maybe not shit, but it wasn't turning out the way that I wanted. The fairy was too tall, frame too big, wings were alright, but could be better.
That's The Way It Is blasted in my ears, so I hummed along. I forgot that Mr. Asshole was sitting right next to me. I started to redraw my messed up fairy, making everything just right. Feeling my personal bubble being poked at, I turned my head to see Mack's face inches from mine.
"Can I help you?" I asked with annoyance.
He shook his head. His lips, I noticed, were a very pale pink, almost a cream color, but not really. They played a smile, and I realized that I have been staring for too long. Backing away, I resumed to my music and drawing.
I heard my CD player shut down. "Hey! What's the big idea?!" I attempted to reach for it, but he was too tall, perhaps 6' 2", and I was 5' 3". You do the math.
"All I want to do is talk."
"Well maybe I don't want to talk to you." I crossed my arms and muttered, "Fuckin' asshole. 'All I wanna do is talk'."
"What was that?"
We sat in silence. I resumed, again, to my music and drawing/writing, while Mack just sat there, watching my every move. I would glance at him from the corner of my eye, then pay attention to what was on my lap.
I pulled of my headphones and turned down the volume. "Huh?"
"I said, nice work." Mack looked straight ahead.
"Oh, uh... thanks, I guess." I checked my watch. "Hey, don't you have to be somewhere to be? School's out."
"Nah, my mom's not picking me up till 3:30."
Christy flew across the room, hitting her head against the wall. Blood trickled down her purple neck, and her abuser shouted, "You think you own this damn place? Do ya? Stupid bitch!" The abuser balled his fist and connected it with her gut, forcing Christy to double over.
"Daddy, please don't."
"SHUT UP!" Robert threw his daughter on the ground. LeAnn, Christy's mother, stood above her, her high heel digging into her bruised chest. "Worthless piece of shit," she spat. "You think your better than us? Than me?" Christy moaned in pain, which only made Mrs. Caine dig her heel in harder. "Then you can clean the whole damn house." After back-handing the 11-year-old child, she stalked away.
"Spotless," the father hissed, "or you ass is mine."
The door slammed shut, leaving a hurt Christy crumbled on the floor.
When I woke up the sun was at the horizon, casting shades of orange and red across the evening sky. I streched lazily, looking around for that good-for-nothing creep. "Must've left" I thought as I gathered my things and, with a few tries, got up off the ground. My eyes caught a glimpse of something fall on the ground, and I bent down to pick it up. It read:
I've known you since so long ago
I've watched sulk and saw the colors flow
You have no friends
That I can tell
The past that haunts you burdens you so
I may not be able to erase the pain
Nor am I able mend to wounds
But I'm reaching out to grab your hand
In hopes that, maybe, you'll be my friend
See me tomorrow near the end of the quad
Sit with me and laugh
Make yourself at home
A lone tear slid down my cheek as I folded up the paper and slipped it into my jean pocket.
I thought as I made my way toward my foster home, music blaring in my ears, "I guess people care after all."
hey hey hey! i know, another one shot deal. But I'm in like a total writers block, and I can't seen to think of anything else. ah well. hope you like! R/R please!
"Together in Harmony" will be updated ASAP.