The next morning I wake to a splitting headache. I groan and get up slowly looking around my room. It's really small: twin bed, dresser, closet, and nightstand. Scattered around my room are numerous piles of books and journals. When I'm not reading, I write and draw. Two posters, of my favorite movies, on a lonely wall are peeling off. I sigh. I'm going to have to fix that, again.
Opening my door I peer around the corner and check to see if he is gone. He is. His boots and keys are not by the front door so I am alone for a little while. I fix myself a bagel and grab my backpack. He would not be happy if I skipped school. I did that once, and I ended up with bruises across my face, so big and purple you couldn't even tell where they started and ended. The clock above the stove reads 11:30. If I leave in five minutes, I'll just make it in time for my biology test.
I pull on my worn black skinny jeans and a band shirt, grab my converse and signature black hoodie before running out the door, stuffing the remaining piece of bagel into my mouth.
Winter in Michigan is one word. Cold. Endless fields of snow and freezing temperatures. I love it. I embrace the cold. I would stay in it all day, just lying in the snow if it didn't have the small side effect of freezing people to death.
I went to lunch after biology and sat down in a random booth. I pulled out my biology notes and looked at them. Failure. That's what my test would say. I knew it. I hadn't remembered anything I had learned for that test. He was going to kill me if he found out, even though it was his fault that I was out so late last night. He didn't care.
"Wha…" I jumped, startled, coming back from my thoughts.
Looking up, I see two girls. They are all holding their lunch trays, staring down at me, not unkindly. I suddenly realize that I'm most likely sitting at their table.
Getting up quickly, I mumble, "Sorry," and turn to find another table.
"Wait a minute," one of them says. I turn back around and stare at them confused.
"You can sit with us, if you want, there's plenty of room, I was just going to see if you would mind scooting over." I take in both girls' appearances. The one that spoke to me, tall, brunette with big brown eyes, and a plain look, and the other, short, bordering on chubby, with blonde hair and blue eyes. They look nice enough. Whatever. Won't hurt if I sit with them, just for today.
I shrug, masking my emotions, and sit back down at the table, pulling out my book. This time I'm reading a different book, Crank. Just as I start back into it I hear,
"So what's your name?"
I look up and put the book back down, realizing that I will have to converse with these girls.
"Oohh. That's pretty," says the blonde.
"Do you smoke?" brunette talking this time.
"Sometimes, not much really." I can see where this is going now.
"Do you know where we can get something good?"
"Why do you think I would know?"
"Oh, come on, almost everyone knows your dad runs a 'business'. I'm sure he could get something, and we would pay a fair price for it too."
I sigh. All expectations of having just a simple conversation with these two are gone. I start to refuse her offer when I realize that if I get the drugs for her myself, I might make a little money, without my father having to know. This could work out after all.
"Sure," I say putting on a smile, "I'll ask him. If you're still interested after this weekend, come by the junkyard next Tuesday at midnight and look for me by the old white van on the left near the back."
YOU ARE READING
Sticks and StonesFanfiction
"Just be quiet, okay! You don't know anything about my life," I say pushing him away. "I know you need help," he says quietly. "I do not! Everything's under control, Harry!" But we both know I'm lying. I stare at my faded, worn black flip-flops, avo...