What He Left Behind

Two

Come morning, I'm awake and out of bed before the sun has risen. I throw on the first smart-casual outfit I can find, brush some dry shampoo through my unwashed hair and put on some light make-up, just enough to cover the dark circles under my steel blue eyes and the small blemishes on my chin. I wouldn't describe myself as insecure about my appearance at all, but I like to look well-presented.

Once I hear my father's car leave the driveway, I venture downstairs to make breakfast. As expected, my mom hasn't made it out of bed yet and refuses to come downstairs to eat, instead insisting I leave the food in her room. Already I can guarantee I will come home from school this afternoon to find her tea stone cold and the food untouched, but what else can I do? I can't force the woman to eat.

---

When I arrive at school, I meet Amber in the parking lot, as we agreed the day before. We make our way towards the building as she quizzes me on what it's like in Detroit, asking if it's really as bad as it's made out to be.

It isn't by the way. Sure, it's pretty run-down in some areas and the school system is dismal and the crime rates are through the roof, but I didn't have a gun pointed at my head on the daily like the horror stories lead you to believe. Then again, I lived on the outskirts of one of the ghettos so I was partially shielded from what went on. If the stories I got told are anything to go by, the centre of the ghetto is not somewhere I'd recommend you visit.

"Do you miss home?" Amber asks.

"Not really," I answer, "There's nothing for me to miss. My only family's my parents and they came with me to California. I didn't have many friends. That city's full of shitty people. I'm glad to be rid of them."

I like Amber. She's soft-spoken and sweet, arguably the opposite of me, but she's also quick-witted and has more functioning brain cells than most people in Detroit combined. It's nice to be around someone I can have an intellectual conversation with. The girl's got a sensible head on her shoulders and I think I'd be wise to befriend her.

As we walk past the tennis courts to get to the West Building entrance, a group of people in the distance catch my attention. I pause, realising that among the group are Charlie and Stan, along with one other guy and a girl. Charlie has a cigarette between his lips and an arm thrown casually around the girl's shoulders.

"Is that Charlie's band?" I query, my curiosity getting the better of me. Amber turns around, following my gaze until her eyes land on the group.

"Some of them," she confirms, "The blonde guy with them is Mason the drummer. There are two other guys, Adam who I think plays guitar and Harvey on bass. They're older though so they don't go to school. Obviously you know Stan; he plays guitar aswell, and then Charlie's the singer."

"Of course Charlie's the singer," I muse, "Who's the girl?"

"Oh that's Tay. She's always with them. She's really nice." I frown, finding it strange that someone nice would hang around with such a troublesome bunch. Then again, I like to consider myself as nice for the most part, and I've known some really troublesome people.

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I have English literature second period. I don't like English. There's something about scrutinising a book's language devices to death that sucks all the enjoyment out of reading it. I find the whole thing too subjective anyway. Maths is easy; the answer is either right or wrong. English is another matter.

When the bell rings, everyone scrambles to get the seat they want, as always happens on the first lesson of each class after the summer. I end up between Amber and a quiet mousy girl who Amber refers to as Cara.