Luck is on My Side

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them"-Ernest Hemingway

It's hard to say that my life sucks because I'm sure there are people out there who have it way worse than I. But I really do hate my life. I used to love it. I'm an only child so I never had to compete for the attention of my parents. Now I'm not so sure that's a good thing.

My mom was a truly enchanting woman, spontaneous at times, but a lovely person nonetheless. That's why it's so difficult to resent her for leaving me. She tries to defend herself, saying it wasn't her fault she fell in love with a different man. Ha, as if love exists! I happen to know she and "Roberto" divorced four months after they tied the knot. She still didn't come back to us after that. I think that threw Dad over the edge. The night we found out she wasn't coming home was the night my dad had his first drink in over six years. It was also my fourteenth birthday and the first time my dad ever beat me.

So there I was, three years to the day of that fateful November night, drinking my fifth cup of water trying to get the taste of my repulsive spearmint toothpaste out of my mouth. Dad was passed out on the couch, drool glazing over his five o'clock shadow. You could tell he hadn't shaved in a few weeks, the product of a continuous drunken stupor. The weeks leading up the anniversary of Mom leaving us were always the worst. Dad always got extra drunk and I got extra beatings. I tried my best to cover up the blue and black patches all over my body, but it was a waste of time anyway. Nobody at Delta Springs High School paid me any attention. It was one of those places where if you weren't born and raised in Delta Springs, you weren't considered anybody important. My dad moved us here, away from my friends, when Mom left. "To get away from the memories of that wretched woman" Dad had said.

I always woke up early to leave for school before my dad wakes up. Unfortunately that means I usually have to awake from sleep at 4:30 am just to make it to school on time. When the foul taste of minty freshness finally left my mouth, I made Dad his hangover coffee, black with extra black. I went back to the bathroom to check my makeup for any imperfections. I only wore makeup one day a year, my birthday. I never wore it any other day, to make it better than just a reminder of the fact that my mom was never coming back. Satisfied with the miniature makeover I had done today, I sighed contently making my way through the house as quietly as possible. I found my ratty old sports backpack and shifted it onto my shoulders. I was ready for the torture known as school.

I unlocked the door and yanked it open causing several paint chips to flitter to the ground. I would have to clean those up later. I closed the door with a sucking sound and started down the weed-infested sidewalk. Annoying black birds filled the heavy Mississippi air with horrid cackles as the sunrise shined through the almost bare trees. I furrowed my brows in confusion. The birds only showed up when it was about to rain heavily. Ironically I felt a large raindrop plop itself right on the crown of my head just before an inundation of raindrops clouded my vision. Happy seventeenth birthday to me, and so much for the makeup.

When I got to school, the bell had already rung. I was late. I trudged through the deserted hallway leaving a trail of rainwater behind me. I opened the door to homeroom and slouched into the seat furthest away from the blackboard ignoring the whispers and the disgusted looks aimed at me. I kept my head down.

"Detention. After school, Ms. Pierce" called the teacher, an aged woman who always wore black women's suits and some sort of scarf.

"But" I started, but the teacher cut me off with a raised eyebrow. She was practically begging me to contradict her. I had personally never spoken a word to this particular teacher, but I heard things around the school. None of them were good. Seeing no other option, I nodded, and she gave a sly smile before turning back around to teach.

I was mentally freaking out. Dad would kill me if I came home late. There was no way I could go to detention. Then again if I didn't show up at detention I would get Saturday school. I wouldn't be home all day, and when I got back Dad would be super angry. I could always ask to switch the days, but the result would be the same no matter which day I came home late. Besides, it's not like the teacher would let me switch anyway. Suddenly a soft rock song was playing. You couldn't really tell what song it was because it sounded muffled. It was inside somebody's backpack. It wasn't until people started looking back at me and staring did I realize just who's backpack it was coming from. It was mine. I made a little screeching sound as I reached inside my bag to find that the culprit was my iPod. IPod no! I guess it just randomly wanted to start playing Shinedown. A shadow came into my line of vision. I hesitantly looked up to see the old woman staring down at me with repulsion.

"Turn it off, now! An extra hour of detention, Ms. Pierce" she was punctuated by the bell, and students began filing out of the classroom still laughing about the incident. I hurriedly shut down my iPod and shuffled out of the room.

The rest of the day went off without another occurrence like in homeroom. My dad refused to pay the lunch charges so I ate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I packed this morning. It wasn't much, but I never ate much anyway. Sooner than I thought possible it was time for my detention. I sulked my way to the teacher's classroom and knocked on the door hesitantly.

"Come in" ordered the cruel woman's voice. I did as she said. She sat at her desk grading papers without seeming to pay attention. She glanced at me briefly. "Right, you. Sit down and don't say a word. Don't you dare get that vulgar contraption out." I nodded and slumped into the first seat I could get my hands on. I stared into open air dreading going home. The clock seemed to taunt me, going much faster than necessary. Two hours seemed like twenty minutes at the most. The old woman told me I could leave at 4:30pm. Fantastic, now Dad is really going to kill me.

It was still raining when I got home. I walked in, smelled throw up, and immediately covered my nose protecting myself from the stench. I entered the kitchen and saw Dad's coffee cup broken into pieces on the floor a large coffee stain surrounding the fragments. I sighed then picked up the shards. A blow to the right side of my head made me stumble and I fell. When I tried to brace myself the shards in each hand cut into my palms. I lay there stunned for moment watching the blood leak from my hands before another blow, this one a kick, lands on my back.

"That's what you get for coming home late! I bet you were fooling around with some guy, weren't you? I thought I raised you better than that!" Dad hollered landing a kick or punch with almost every word.

"You did!" I choked out through the rapid beatings.

"You're just like your mother, Virginia! A dirty tramp!" and with a final kick to my stomach, he ended his rampage by heading to the liquor cabinet. I didn't dare move, not while he was still this indignant. With a chestnut colored bottle in his hand, Dad loped into the den shutting the oak door with a bang. I wasn't allowed to go in there, and I didn't want to. That's his booze room. I tried to stand, but I got lightheaded. I plopped back down, waited a few minutes, and tried again. This time I could support myself though I was still unsteady.

I thought back. Dad used my full name again, just to spite me. I hate my name and if I had any friends, I would want them to call me Ginny. I needed to get out of here, badly. But I had no where to go. I didn't know where my other relatives lived or even if I had other relatives. I didn't know where Mom lived. In fact, I hadn't spoken to her in a year and a half. But there was one thing I did know. I wanted, no needed, to leave this place. Tonight.