Keepin' It Classy(Not Really Working On~)

Chapter One;

Chapter One;

Here I am surrounded by inebriated freaks. Why must she take me to places like this? If she wants to go out and dismember her insides piece by piece, that's her deal, not mine. I hate when she takes me here. The bar fights, and creeps hitting on anyone in sight, it's all so barbaric. I lay down on the bar and ponder the thoughts running through my head eventually, falling into a deep, tender sleep. "ELICYIA, ELICYIA ANNMARIE!" My head popped up so fast, I think I left my brain half asleep. "ELICYIAAAAA!" she yelped again. What could she want now? I carry myself to the voice. "Yeah, mom. What is it?" I blurted. "Go get me the keys," she began, "And go start the car." Arguing with her is pointless. So i sulk and make my way out to our authentic 1951 Ford Pickup. I just hope she doesn't want me to drive home. The dance is on Friday, and I definitely want to stay alive to live it!

I start the car and wait, and wait, and wait. How long is it going to take that glutton to walk out here? I lean up and attempt to turn on the radio, that is if this stupid piece of junk even goes on anymore. It is so complicated, you have to hit like eight buttons just to get some sort of sound to come out. It sparked, and I recoiled, well that's that! No radio for me! Finally, There she blows! Although, she is a pretty vast women; I am shocked she even found the energy to waltz out here. She opens the door and the car shakes as she takes her seat. I inaudibly say some inappropriate things. She looks at me, and I can see the tragic luster in her eyes. My heart tells me to run, but I must compel myself to stay. She leans in and slaps me, right across the face! "What did I do?" I preach. She does not answer, just hits the gas pedal and we're off.

Surprisingly, we reach the house in one piece. I do not want to be slapped again, so I ran upstairs and started a bath. I began undressing; as I listened to my mom; she was talking to someone on the phone, not very genial. I submerged myself in the water and let he bubbles hit my body.

An hour or two later I hopped out soaking wet. I ran into my room to get dressed. It's so lackluster in here at night. My dog, Stinker, came in. I shook my hair to dry off. Now the pooch was unpleasantly dank. I felt bad, but I had to. I combed out my long, wavy hair and placed it into a messy ponytail. Then laid on my bed imagining my thoughts. The main one that came to mind was Zach. Zachary Dean Anderson. I've lived next to him since we were three. I think there was even a time when we were friends. My thoughts eventually made me daze into a deep sleep.

Oh, goody. There goes my alarm. Time for the joys of high school, the one place where your best friend, which is also your boy friend, is your worst enemy in two whole days! I gradually get out of my bed and find my way to my hair brush and straightner. I grasp the pony tail out of my hair and brush through each and every snarl. I follow each stroke by the heat of my straightner. I then apply the usual: eyeliner, mascara, and some eye shadow. I'm not one of those girls who cakes their make up on to look like something I'm not. Just the basics, for highlights and such. I was always the girl that didn't understand the obsession over Barbies and thought boys were idiots. I grabbed myself a granola bar and rushed out to catch my bus.

As I waited at the bus stop, there he stood. Zach, or as soon call him, perfection. He has the most astonishing, brown locks and the deep, brown eyes to match. I always seem to catch myself gazing in them. Sometimes I wonder why we stopped talking and if it had anything to do with him becoming such a jock. I catch myself in daydreams often. Imagining his strong sturdy hands gently resting at my sides, as we sway from side to side. My head gently propped on his shoulder. Various thoughts of him are constantly going through my mind. I guess, that's the perfect example of expecting the grass to be greener on the other side.

The bus screeched and came to an immediate halt in front of me. I hop on and rush to the back with my lonesome. That is one of the worst parts to my day. Surviving the march to my seat. I was pretty successful today. Mykayla, the head cheerleader, prettiest girl in school, and of course, Zach's girl friend, was gushing about her make up today, so when I walked past she kept her mouth shut. Zach had rushed on before me to find the rest of this muscle-bound freaks, I mean, friends. He was the only one not laughing when I walked by.. He's more of a gentlemen.. As I place in my head phones, I deliberate the thoughts streaming through each and every brain cell. Next stop; high school.