"Ariella!" Emily screeched from upstairs. I looked at my busted alarm clock. Seven fifty. I had to be to school by eight. I jumped up, hitting my head on the low basement ceiling. It took me a moment to recover from the throbbing pain in my forehead, but if I was late to school,my so called 'Dad' would kill me. I hopped out of bed, dressed, and ran my fingers through my wavy hair, hoping it looked okay. I decided to throw on a hat just in case. I double-timed it up the stairs.
"Ariella, I thought you said you shined my shoes! Well you didn't! I need them! God your dumb. . ." Erica threw a pair of shoes I'd shined for her the day before at me.
"Ariella, I need you to wash these for me!" Emily dropped a huge pile of freshly washed clothes on the floor in front of me.
"But I-I just washed those last night!" I stammered. Wrong move. She let me hear an ongoing stream of profanities. Erica smirked.
Her breath came out in rasps as she shouted; It smelled like cigarette smoke. I automatically shied away from her; I couldn't stand that stench. Every room in the house smelled like it, except for mine. Does the basement count as a room?
Once she was done with her rant, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. I sighed and turned to see my father, to see what inconvenient tasked he'd decided to lay upon me today. "Can you clean up the house when you get home? The twins' rooms, my office, the living room, you get it," He said, sipping from his coffee mug, grabbing the newspaper and heading for the door. With great reluctance, I turned to the worst of my problems. Evelyn.
"You need to mow the lawn, hand wash the floor, dust, make dinner, bathe the dogs, and stop by the store to buy groceries," I nodded and rushed out the door before she could call me back to add more to my list of impossible demands.
The walk to school was short, but I barely made it in time. The first bell rang as soon as I was in my first period class.
"Ariella Calebs?" Mrs. Meeker said, without looking up from her clipboard.
"Here," I muttered walking to my seat.
"Here but not wanted," I heard Erica snicker from across the room. Several of her cronies laughed.
"That will be enough for today miss Calebs," Mrs. Meeker said to Erica, walking around her desk to the white-board.
Yeah, you heard right. Erica Calebs. Thats my last name, a last name she has no right to wear. She's my step-sister. Her mother is married to my father, though I refuse to call him 'Dad' after he started dating Evelyn. She changed him. The way he talks, what he wears, what he does, who he hangs out with. My mother was never like that. She let him choose how he wanted to live his life. She actually let him live his life. Not the other way around. My mother went along with her life too. They found a way to make it work. Face it, they were a perfect, happy, carefree couple. Until my father started drinking. My mother got pregnant with me, and then things started falling apart. My dad rarely started coming home, and when he did, he smelled of beer, and was covered in cuts and bruises. My mother figured he had gotten in bar fights at the strip club he was always at. Nine months later she had me.
When I was born, they though I was dead, because I wasnt crying. But I was alive, andquietly taking in the new world around me. I have cried twice in my life since the fifth grade. [My mom had always tolds me never to waste my tears, because believe it or not their numbers were limited]When my mother died, and when my father married Evelyn. On both events my life had been cut up into small strands of trash. That was when I was thrown away. I remember the night it happened so clearly. It was as if I were looking through someone elses eyes.
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It's dark outside, but I'm safe in here. The car is warm, and I am young. Thirteen? My memory of it is fuzzy.
"Mom where are we going?" I asked for the thousandth time. My mother chuckled. "Please give me a hint Mom!" I pleaded, bringing my palms together in an angelic gesture.
"Guess," she insisted. I shook my head.
"I need a hint," I said, begging. "Come on Mom! It's my birthday! Please?"
My mom sighed. "Fine, It's something you do often. It's cold. Icy," She shivered dramatically, giving away too much. Secretly though, I think she meant to; she always gave me what I wanted.
"Skating?!" I exclaimed. She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing at the excited squeal in my voice.
"Gabby!" I said to my sleeping sister in the back seat. She opened her eyes a little so she could look at me.
"Gabby we're going ice skating!" I said. Mom laughed again. Gabby's eyes were opened all the way, and were soon wide with excitement.
"Yay!" she clapped her hands together, though the sound was muffled a little by her thick mittens. I gazed out of the frosty window, still smiling. There was snow on the ground, thick, white, and beautiful. There was a billboard, decorated with Christmas lights. The graffiti art amazed me. There were so many colors. So many names. So many phrases. Pictures. Phone numbers.
I heard my mother gasp. I turned my head to see what was wrong. Everything after that happened so quickly, the most I could remember was brief images; and flecks of light
My mother's horrified face. She threw her right arm out in front of me, the left arm held onto the steering wheel as though it were a life line.
Bright headlights. I closed my eyes.
Screaming.
The sound of metal, scraping and screeching.
Glass breaking.
Nothing.
