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01: Go Out With Style
I pulled my hoodie further around my face as I made my way down the rainy street. The thick, black material couldn't be thick enough for this cold air.
People bustled around me to get into the school, as we had only five minutes to get to class and it was a three minute walk from this street.
The street that I lived on.
As all of us made our way, I easily maneuvered in and out of the lines and pairs of people. It was the same order every day. The crowd was chaotic, but everyone knew where they walked. Organized chaos, I supposed it was referred to as.
When we made our way through the doors of the public school, the halls were unusually noisy. I cringed away from a large group of boys and sidestepped a girl and her sidekick. Each clique had their own place to stand.
Considering it was a Friday, no one was in quite as much of a hurry as they typically were to get to class. No one cared that we had only a minute or two to get to first period.
I didn't have anyone I was particularly excited to converse with, so I went ahead and found the College Algebra classroom. Mrs. Bradshaw gazed at the classroom cheerfully and grinned when the last few people made their way through the door as I took my seat next to Jacob.
"I'm so glad it's Friday," she remarked. "I didn't think I could handle you idiots for another day without a break." The class rumbled with brief laughter and she beamed.
Everyone loved Mrs. Bradshaw, despite the scorned subject she taught. She was always lighthearted, but real to a fault. If you said something stupid, she would always call you on it and tell you what an idiot you are.
"You're lucky you're getting College Algebra over in high school, because your professor would cry at these grades," she would occasionally say as she handed out tests no one did particularly good on.
We went through math easily, everyone calm and too tired to do anything but watch her chirp equations and expressions at random. If she caught someone not paying attention, she would make them go up to the board and work a problem out.
College Algebra would have been ten times harder had she not been such a pleasant person, to be totally honest.
After math, I had a study hall period that I usually used to do my math homework. I quickly finished it and stared at my hoodie sleeves in boredom. The homework was a breeze because she didn't want to grade much on Mondays.
Looking around, I saw that everyone with study hall was on their phones or giggling with their friends and sighed. I didn't really want to read, but I couldn't afford a phone to play on. I didn't really converse with anyone, so I just kept to myself.
"Are you okay?" a girl next to me asked. I looked over to see Claire Haddley, one of the nicer, more liked girls of the school. "Sorry to butt in. You looked kind of depressed. I wanted to borrow a pencil for the math homework."
I didn't know she was in my math class.
I smiled and gave her one of my pencils and she quipped a short "thank you" before burying her nose in her textbook.
After second period, I suffered through Oral Com. and French. At lunch, I sat at a lunch table in the corner, secluded from all of the talking and laughing.
As a freshman, I'd hated lunch because everyone was so rude to one another. There was so much gossip and whispering about the girl on the other side of another girl, I just went to the library the whole year at lunchtime.
As seniors, though, no one really cared much about anything except sports and colleges. No one hated anyone anymore, really. I had moved schools as well, though, so I didn't know if it was just the different schools or the different maturity levels.
At the end of lunch, I was always one of the firsts to leave because I didn't eat lunch and had no trash to throw away. When I got up and turned for the door, I ran into a rock hard chest, an expletive or two, and a tray full of spaghetti and a cup of water.
"Watch where you're going!" he snapped.
I cringed from the voice and glared up at an unhealthily beautiful boy with obvious abs, now that there was water making his shirt cling to his stomach.
"Don't you eat your spaghetti?" I said incredulously, looking down at my now spaghetti-covered hoodie. "Or did you just watch it for the whole period?"
"Watch yourself," he warned.
"Why? Your only weapon is now smeared all over my favorite hoodie," I retorted in anger. "I was literally standing there and all I did was turn around. I legit didn't move from this spot. You would have run into me whether I'd turned around or not."
"Your point?" he demanded.
"Were you expecting me to disappear?" I asked in annoyance. "Or did you just think you could walk through me?"
Gladly enough, the bustling of bodies ready to get out of the cafeteria was too loud for our bickering to be noticed. With that, I stormed out of the room and found my locker.
I was so lucky to have worn a t-shirt under my hoodie for once.
Once I'd ridden myself of the smelly hoodie, I shoved it into my locker and glared down at my shirt. "Your locker will smell like spaghetti, now," he said, coming up behind me.
"Did I invite you over to talk to me?" I asked irritably.
"Didn't need to. The invitation was written all over your face," he said sarcastically. "Besides, spaghetti smells good," he added with a shrug.
"I hate spaghetti," I muttered, shoving my locker shut and grabbing my backpack. He kept pace with me.
"So, I guess it was my fault I got spaghetti all over your hoodie," he admitted reluctantly.
"Realize that, did you?" I said with a nod. "Glad you caught up."
"No need to be sassy," he said with the wave of his hands. "I'm just telling you that I was in the wrong."
"I noticed," I said dryly. "Your point is? You're sorry?"
"No, I just wanted to tell you that so you didn't think I was totally horrible," he explained.
"Gotcha."
My speed increased, but he kept up with aggravating ease. "Can I help you? If not, I'm going to just go on to EAST," I said in annoyance.
"I have EAST, too," he said with a grin. "I was wondering why you were following me." I whirled around and fixed him with a glare.
"If your mission is to annoy me, I'd say you've done a good job. So you can, like, stop now," I told him. His grin widened in amusement and I snorted.
"Well, that wasn't my mission at first, but you're cute when you're annoyed, so I think I'll just continue," he shrugged. I snorted and finally arrived to the classroom.
When I sat down in my usual seat, I quickly logged into the computer and looked over my videos of the elementary kids and their painting videos. My project had been to have all of them paint their hands and put their prints on a mural for the front of the school.
It had not taken as long as I'd anticipated. I was officially finished with it. I walked up to Mr. Lonny and smiled politely.
"I'm finished with my project. I'll start a new one as soon as I think of one," I promised, just to let him know why I wasn't doing anything.
"I couldn't help but hear you have no project," the boy said, swinging in next to me on a rolling chair.
"That's called eavesdropping," I remarked. "I'm sorry. Who are you again?" I asked, my tone slightly hostile.
"I'm Emmett," he informed me. "And you are?"
"Louise," I said curtly.
"Well, Louise, I also happen to be at a loss for ideas concerning a project," he told me matter-of-factly.
"Congrats," I said flatly. "Have you even done anything throughout the whole year?"
"Some stuff with the dugouts," he shrugged. "My group didn't like to do work, so I backed out."
"So you're a quitter," I decided.
"Am not," he argued haughtily.
I grinned and leaned back in my chair. "So," he began after a few moments of silence, "do you want to do a project together?"
"Not particularly, no," I said dismissively.
"Let's not make hasty decisions," he said cautiously.
"You spilled spaghetti on me," I said incredulously. "Are you seeing some twisted world where that makes us besties? I'm not."
He went quiet and smirked. Ideas began buzzing through my mind for a project, but all of them had a downside.
"I have an idea," he finally said. Sighing, I glared at him.
I was about to tell him to go away, but he launched into his description of the project. "We go to the cemetery and—"
"Ew, no!" I declined immediately. "That's disrespectful unless you are visiting a lost loved one!"
"I was going to say we clean it up and stuff," he protested. "Like, pick up litter and pull weeds and stuff."
I looked at him flatly for a few moments, wondering if he was serious.
Finally, after about a minute, I said, "You want to do community service for a project?" He frowned and my eyebrows rose at the stupidity of his idea. "I'm aware these are projects to help the community and all, but you do know that there are caretakers and most cemeteries look to be in perfect shape around here."
"I guess," he sighed. "I don't know, then. Nothing with little kids. I saw your video with the whole mural thing. Nothing involving kids."
"You don't like kids?" I said incredulously.
"No," he stated. "They are slobbery and bratty."
"Only when they have something to be bratty about. They're just honest," I argued. "You would give them something to be honest about."
"Would not! I don't know if you noticed, but I'm flawless," he said, puffing out his chest.
I frowned at him, wondering if he was serious, when the bell rang.
Glad the class period was over, I swung my backpack on and made my way quickly out of the room. He wasn't far behind, but I went a separate way than him.
At the end of the day, I retreated to my apartment in relief and sighed as I plopped down on the bed. It was a tiny, one room apartment with the kitchen, living room, and bedroom basically one room. There was only one bathroom, too.
I had a small TV, but other than that, I had no means of entertainment.
That only meant the apartment was spotless due to all the time I had to clean.
My parents weren't really in the picture, which meant I'd bounced around foster systems since I was seven. None of my relatives had wanted me after their deaths.
I had been on my own since I was sixteen, after running from the foster home I was at and finding a job as quickly as possible. I would never go back to a foster home after that one.
A muffled sound on my door broke me from my thoughts and I opened it to see Mrs. Carpenter walking away with a roll of tape in her hand.
"Mrs. C?" I asked in confusion. She turned and gave me a sad look before retreating down the stairs. I looked at the piece of paper she'd stuck to my door and my face paled.
It was an eviction notice.
Quickly, I grabbed it and ran after Mrs. Carpenter. "Wait!" I called. She turned and sighed. "Mrs. Carpenter, I almost have the money. I just need another extension. Please," I pleaded.
"I'm sorry, dear. You are due for three months of rent. I can't let this go on any longer." Tears pricked my eyes but I quickly blinked them away. Her gaze softened and she placed a hand on my arm. "I will let you off without paying, just because I like you, but you can't continue to live here if you do not pay."
"My job doesn't pay well, Mrs. C. I'm trying to get the money, but it's slow and I have nowhere to go," I said.
She let out a breath. "I broke a policy just by letting a minor live here. Now that you are not paying rent, I cannot let you stay, Miss Bren. I'm sorry."
I inhaled deeply and nodded. "If you could pay by Tuesday, I could let you stay here. With as much as you owe, though, I do not see how that would be possible."
I bit my lip and turned sullenly to go back to my small room. I couldn't make that much money by then.
I needed another job, period. With the money it took to pay for groceries, I'd have a fourth of what I needed for rent. Then there was electricity, then water, then a million other things I was not prepared for when I left.
I found the toilet and opened the top to see her glasses case with a wad of money in it. I counted about thirty dollars.
"Nice one, Louise," I snapped at myself angrily.
Tears began leaking from my eyes and I ran my hands through my soft, light brown hair. It was naturally wavy, a little straight, and I had long since given up on trying to do anything but a bun or braids with it.
I sat on the bathroom floor and bit my lip, stress overtaking me. I had nowhere to go.
Absolutely nowhere.
I sniffed and regained my composure. If I'd be homeless, I'd go out with style.
In my closet, I had one perfect dress that had cost a total of twenty dollars. It was my "just in case" dress.
You know, just in case.
I put the short, black dress on and it conformed to my body perfectly. It had been at a discount, and I'd found a coupon in the paper for another twenty percent off.
I pulled a pair of heels on and shook my hair out before grabbing the money and leaving the apartment.
The weather had cleared up since that morning, and I walked down the street and earned a few wolf whistles. Ignoring them, I kept my gaze set towards my destination: the club.
I wanted to forget.
All I had was a fake ID I'd used when I left the house. I used it to pay for apartments and liquor. It wasn't very good, but I figured they wouldn't look at it too thoroughly.
When I arrived, I flashed the man my card to get in and he glanced at it and nodded. Grinning, I walked through the door.
Tonight, I'd forget.