The Choice

Chapter 2

The ride was about as eventful as a lazy sunday summer afternoon. I was too mentally exhausted to try and make conversation with the driver and I was pretty sure he wouldn't talk to me anyway. He seemed to be that strong silent type. I could respect that. He was similar to my dad in that way.

I don't remember much about my dad, in all honestly. I was seven when he left. I don't know why he left or where he is now. All I know is that he made my mom's and my life pretty damn hard. We didn't have to move but I had to listen to the heart breaking sound of my mom crying in her room. The sound of her yelling at him over the phone to send the child care he owed us. I learned to hate my father for reasons my mother didn't want me to know. After the first few months my mother started to date. A Lot. She would drink and take substances. It seemed to distract her from the life threatening heartbreak she was suffering.

The driver finally pulled up to our small house and I couldn't help but glare at Justin's house next door. The part of me that was wild screamed for revenge and briefly considered egging his window. That would probably end up spinning back to me somehow, unfortunately. Justin always had a talent for that. I quietly thanked the driver and walked to my front door glancing at the overgrown grass and the abandoned garden. I knew I should probably deal with the front yard soon but honestly, nobody cares. Deadbeat mom and nerdy high school senior who barely survive on child support? Let's just say we get a lot of free meals from our neighbors.

I unlocked door and the pungent smell of smoke and alcohol bombarded my nose as I walked in. "God, Mom." I coughed, holding my nose as I walked in to find my mother sprawled out on our cheap couch, an unlit cigarette in her hand, and fast asleep. I ran a hand through my hair, aggravated that she passed out... again. I picked up the other two discarded cigarettes and plucked the unused one from her fingers and threw them in the trash. I looked around at the living room with a sigh. I inspect my hair, which is now starting to dry with this slime coating it. Picking up the mess we call our house will take a good hour. So I make the executive decision to shower first and clean later.

I turned on my heel and walked towards my small room. The room itself wasn't a mess. Rather, the amount of things in the room without a place made it seem like a bomb hit it. There was a single twin bed in the room, with my colorful bedspread made neatly across it. I dumped my backpack in the corner of the room, and started making my way towards the bathroom. I looked at my reflection and winced at the disgusting image in front of me. My originally dark brown hair was now covered in bright green slop. What used to be only slightly messy waves down my back were now dripping with the stuff. Even my skin had a green sheen to it, which made my pale skin look very sickly and unflattering. I turned on the shower about as hot as it would go, which still wasn't very hot. I peeled off the ruined clothes and sighed, wondering if I should burn them. After a moment, I step into the cleansing stream of water and watch the green torture flow off my body and down the drain.

I close my eyes letting the feeling of clean wash over me. How had everything gone so wrong so fast? One minute I was a blubbering mess making a fool of myself, the next I was covered in slime and then my heart and soul of my freshman year was being poured out to the whole class. I will get my revenge on Justin, all in good time. He wants to ruin my reputation? (Well, it's not like I actually had a reputation) Now is my time to rise from the ashes of unpopularity and come back kicking and screaming. Maybe, just maybe, the rich boy with the cute smile is my ticket to the top. It's worth a shot.

After my quick, but extremely productive, shower, I changed into sweatpants and a random oversized t-shirt and headed into the living room ready to tackle my mother's mess. She hadn't moved an inch, from what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position. Part of me wonders if she died from alcohol poisoning, but she muttered something about Orlando Bloom. I draped a thin blanket over her, letting out a long sigh. She seemed somewhat peaceful in her passed out state.