Anorexic

I've never really had anything to live for. Sure, I have my parents. Well, my mom, anyway. Anyone would kill for a mother like mine. Usually. My mom- named Lisa- drinks sometimes. Okay, so maybe she drinks alcohol on a daily basis. She's not at risk of losing her job because she's a stay-at-home mom. I don't see her when she drinks, often because I'm at school when she does. My little sister never sees our mom when she's drunk either. Mom just locks herself in her bedroom, and doesn't come out until the next morning. Then when we leave for school, she starts drinking again. It's a cycle. I only know she does this, because I have caught her red-handed more than a few times. My sister, Sophie, does not know our mother is addicted. When she asks where our mom is, I tell her that mom gets headaches really bad, and sleeps most of the day. I feel terrible for lying, but I have to keep my sister safe. My mother has never hit us, drunk or sober. I can't say the same for our dad, though.

I don't count Robert as our father. Just a man who just so happened to be there for most of our lives. Robert doesn't drink, at least not as much as my mom. He does even more damage. He has hit me before.  He's never hit my sister, or my mom, I make sure of that. It's never been a broken arm or anything. Just bruises here and there, but they've always been easy to cover up. But I don't have to worry about Robert too much, because he is a workoholic. He's as addicted to work as my mom is addicted to drinking.

I would say my sister is the only sane member of our tiny family. At twelve years old, that red-head keeps me grounded at times. I have no idea where she got that mop of red hair from. My mother is blonde, and Robert has black hair. I have plain brown hair. Perhaps Sophie got her red hair from our ancestors. I wasn't sure, considering I never knew any of my grandparents.

Enough of my family. I bought this journal, because it seemed like a nice place to write down my thoughts, my problems. To start with, I am addicted to something also, just like my mom and Robert. I am addicted to not-

"Sadie!" My head snapped up to the math teacher. "Are you day-dreaming again?"

"Not at all, Ms. Mason."

She gave me a disapproving look. "Put the book away, Sadie." She said sternly, and returned to the white board. I sighed, and did what I was told. The last thing I needed was another call home. I turned to my left to put the journal in my bookbag, when I caught the eye of Leo.

I have known Leo since I was ten. Well, known really is not the word I should use. Leo has been in most of my classes since sixth grade, but I have never talked to him. I've never tried to either, since having friends really isn't my forte.

The bell rang, and I broke my gaze away from his emerald green eyes. I grabbed my bookbag, and exited the classrom. 'One more class, and you can get out of this hole,' I thought. I walked by Josh, a new guy who just moved here last week. He was already wiggling his way with the popular people though, which meant one more person that would make fun of me.

"She's sad all the time, becuase her name is Sadie! It's in the first three letters in her name!" Him and some of his buddies laughed. Huh, can't say I've heard that one before. It's not even funny though. I kept walking. My last period class was art. Art was not in any way my favorite class. However, I did enjoy painting. Although I couldn't draw to save my life, and I had no idea how to "Carefully put every detail in each stroke of the brush," as my teacher liked to say, but I did like being able to put anything and everything in my paintings. It was fun. It took my mind somewhere else, instead of thinking of any problems.

Sitting on the stool in front of my eisel, I started mixing colors. What should I attemp to paint today? I never dwelled on the question long, since I knew that my brain would just go with the flow. I heard the chair next to me scrape the floor. I didn't look to see who sat beside me. It was probably just someone sitting there because there were no other seats in the class.

"Hello." I ignored the voice, thinking it was just someone talking to another person on the opposite side. "Hello?" The voice repeated. What, do they need me to pick up their pencil they dropped? I turned, slightly annoyed.

"Get your own penc-" I paused. It was Leo. Leo McCarthey was speaking to me. Why? He has never spoken to me before, what made him start now?