Chapter 4

Everett

First days of school were always reckless. Everything turns chaotic within two seconds of the morning. Yet, the day is always unpredictable and new. You don’t know whose in your classes and the best point of all was being a senior.
My alarm rang so loudly the sound cut my eardrum in two; I swear it. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my curly hair. My hair was getting to longer and I knew that if I cut it, Alexa would definitely be upset and I couldn’t deal with that now. Not lately. Usually everything between us was awkward. Maybe not for her, but I knew that’s how it felt for me. We had been getting rather close, almost too close for the time being. Sure I’m a guy and going all the way was always an option, but how come I wasn’t feeling the thrill of doing it?
I swung my legs to the other side of the bed, my socks falling messily off my feet and onto the rug. I stretched my tanned arms over my head, reaching for the ceiling that seemed so far away. The lights on my clock blinked 6:23 and I knew I needed to wash up and decide which outfit I was going to wear. I wasn’t like Alexa, who needed a week before the first day to contemplate on a shirt and jeans. I would simply pull out a shirt and a random pair of shorts and put them on.
I walked towards my closet, opening the doors and gazed into my wardrobe. I had a lot more clothing then I believed. I always thought that guys needed a wide assortment of clothing; always dress to impress. I grabbed a collared pink shirt and khakis shorts and walked into the bathroom, about to turn on the shower.
The water fell in such a manner I thought I was in the Tropical Islands underneath a waterfall. The shower felt more amazing then usual, the liquid trickling over my skin. I put a handful of shampoo into my palm and scrubbed it throughout my blonde hair, my fingers digging deep into my scalp.
After the shower, I found my way to the kitchen where I unwrapped an apple pop tart and threw it into my mouth. The reason the day seemed like it would be a rather good one was because I would finally be able to see my friends from the musical scene.
They were like family, during the school year. Usually Clint-Savory High would put on two musicals. This year, however, we had decided to put one musical on and work hard at it until spring. I was hoping for the lead yet again, but I didn’t want to be to certain. Usually the competition was weak and I would be the main viewpoint during shows. Yet, I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.
The clock blinked 6:55 and I grabbed my backpack and swung it over my shoulder. I walked into the bathroom where I stared at myself. The weight lifting over the summer had done me some good, just like Alexa had said. I had gained true abdominal muscles and my biceps were much more defined. My face had slimmed down and gotten tanner, thanks to the days when Alexa and I would lay by the lakeshore, under the sun‘s magnificent glow. My eyes were wide and blue and my nose small and slim. I did look a lot like Alexa, like siblings almost. People would say that we could look related and it was now when I realized that it was true.
I pushed open the screen of my door and it slammed behind my with a hollow thump. I walked down my stone path to where I had parked my black truck. I unlocked the doors, threw my bag onto the front seat, started the engine and drove towards my senior year.

“Why aren’t we in any classes together besides lunch?” Alexa asked, leaning against her locker. I closed my locker, which somehow ended up next to Alexa’s and leaned beside her. I nudged her with my hip and shrugged.
“Our lockers are close, isn’t that good enough?” I said, folding my schedule and placing it into my pocket. The halls were racing with the many students of Clint-Savory that it was uncountable. The different types of people were something you didn’t see everyday in this town. Actually, it was, just something you didn’t usually see all in one hall. There would be a short, dark skinned boy then a tall, red headed girl with the highest shoes I had ever witnessed. The types of clothing that raced by my eyes were so distinct I couldn’t concentrate. I felt Alexa intertwine her arm with mine and her head fall onto my shoulder. I set my head on top of her’s and felt a sigh.
“What are you doing tonight?” Alexa asked, kissing my shoulder.
“I have a meeting for Drama Club after school, sweetie.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’m meeting with a new student who I’m going to be tutoring for the first semester. He’s from a few towns over. Sorry, babe.” I said. The first bell rang clearly through the halls and the students began to hustle quicker to their homerooms. Alexa backed away from the locker and stood in front of me. She grabbed the loops of my belt with her thumbs and tugged on them, my hips leaning towards her own. Personally, I wasn’t much for personal displays of affection. Alexa, on the other hand, was.
“Well then, I’ll see you during lunch.” She said, her eyes looking into mine. I bent to kiss the top of her head and then backed away.
“Can’t wait.” I said, grinning to the side of my face. Alexa slowly released her grip on my belt loops and walked into the mist of students who were passing in the halls. I looked to the right of me then to the left then jumped into the cluster of passing students, unafraid because I was now an upperclassman.
My classroom was two doors down and there were already several students sitting in chairs. I made my way towards the back row of seats, sitting by the window and placing my books on the desk. I leaned back into my chair, slouching over the desk. Inside, I was dancing. Particularly because I was excited for my finishing my high school career and because the end of the day would be closer then I could imagine.
The last bell rang and a few more students piled into seats near the front of the classroom. I didn’t know anyone, which was something unusual. There was always some one to talk to or some one I knew but for the first time there wasn‘t. A tall, bald headed teacher walked in quickly, about to shut the door. He was tapping his foot and watching each student as they entered his realm. He finally shut the door and marched to the front of the room, setting his hands on his hips; his feet exactly shoulder width apart. He took the time to adjust his spectacles then coughed in his throat.
“I’m Mr. Wellman and I will be teaching Calculus this year, obviously you know that already because it is on your miniscule schedules that were mailed to your homes two days ago.” He spit, speaking quickly and with an intense lisp. I felt bad for the students in the front for I feared he would spit on them all. He walked to his desk and grabbed a pile of index cards and began to pass one out to each of us.
“Please write your name, age, number, address and some interests you have about this particular class. Again, please write your name, age-“ In mid sentence, the door swung open and a girl with ripped blue jeans and a low cut green tank top walked into the room and the scent of cigarettes whipped under every students nose. Her black hair was tied in a knot to the side of her head and her eyes were so darkly made up that I couldn’t tell their true color. Mr. Wellman jerked his head around and looked at her then to his watch. He glared up at her and stomped his foot.
“Who, may I ask are you, little missy?” He snorted, continuing to hand out index cards. The girl walked into the classroom, shutting the door with the back of her foot. She started trudging towards the back of the room, dragging her feet on the tile.
“Don’t you have some attendance sheet? I’m Spencer.” She stated and continued to sit in the seat directly in front of me. I could smell that rancid aroma of cigarettes flush off her body and onto mine the moment she sat down. I shook my head and blew the smell back towards her. Mr. Wellman made his way up our isle and handed her an index card then knelt on the ground, adjusting his glasses.
“Well, Spencer, it said on my list that you are a junior. Why are you in a senior class?” Mr. Wellman whispered. Spencer wiped her nose then wiped it back on her jeans.
“Who says I can’t take smart classes, huh? Just ‘cause I look a certain way doesn’t mean I don’t think a different way. Besides, my guidance counselor said I could.” Spencer explained rather obnoxiously. Mr. Wellman rolled his beady eyes then stood back up.
“Okay, then. Welcome to Calculus, Spencer.” He said, setting an index card onto my desk then going back down the next isle. I began to write my name on the card then I got an extra strong whiff of smoke and my head looked up towards the girl named Spencer.
“Nice entrance.” I said softly. She turned her head and faced me, grinning.
“I practiced it all night. Knew I had to do something crazy on the first day of school. Besides, I’m not the first junior who has taken a senior’s coarse.” Spencer said, sniffing.
“Well, for him, I guess you are. Why were you late?” I asked.
“I had to show my friend around to her classes because she’s new. She is really going to be lost today.” Spencer said, twisting back to face forward. I nodded.
“Well that’s nice of you.” I said. Spencer’s face turned around to face mine again and she laughed.
“Well, I’m a nice person.”

Chapter 3

Spencer

“My mom’s never home. I’m pretty much always on my own around here.” I spat, lighting up the cigarette in my mouth. I hesitated at first, looking to Mila. She sat at the edge of my bed, staring up at my poster-ridden walls, taking in the much different atmosphere then her own. She turned to face me, her brown hair tied into identical braids behind her ears. The cigarette still hanging in my mouth, I took the box and held it in my hand towards her, asking her silently if she wanted a smoke. As guessed, she shook her head.
“No thanks.” She muttered then continued to patrol my room with her daze. I sat against the wall, my legs still falling over the other side of the bed and lit my cigarette. I shook the lighter then stuffed it into my pocket, taking a hit. Mila turned towards me, crossing her legs in an Indian style fashion and blowing the smoke out of her face. I had never met someone who grew so fond of me so quickly. Sure, I barely knew the kid, but the last two days that we had spent together weren’t as bad as I had thought for being with someone so different then myself. We had unpacked every box in her room and piled her clothing into her closet. We had taken a walk alongside Clint-Savory Lake, kicking rocks at people’s heals as they kissed their lovers and played with their children. Surprisingly she went along; hesitant however, yet she wasn’t afraid to be with me. I guessed I saw it that I was her only friend, so she had no choice.
“So what happened?” I asked sharply. Her head swung towards me, along with her ponytails.
“What do you mean?”
“What happened? With your mom and dad? You don’t have to answer, I’m just wondering.” I said, looking down at my toenails that were half covered in chipped silver. I reached off the edge of my bed and underneath to a small box which held black nail polish, eyeliner, a box of unopened cigarettes and black hair dye. I called this box my ‘Help Case.’ Whenever I really needed something, it was there.
Mila looked down at her hands, rubbing them together nervously. I guessed that the question would probably be an unanswered one. I had read the name Charlotte Albadoh so many times in the paper or heard it on television it was crazy. Lines such as, ‘Woman Attacks Another Outside Bar,’ ‘Albadoh Throws Knife at Man’ and ‘Charlotte is charged with Harassment’ were often ringing into my ears. Truthfully, I felt bad for the girl, just knowing this much. Knowing that she had been dealing with yet another tragedy and yet another problem dealing with an alcoholic mother. Sure, I understood the fact that her mother liked to party, I couldn’t say I didn’t, but I also knew the feeling of having parents that went out every night to drink.
“I don’t know. It’s hard to talk about.” Mila whispered, looking up at me with her large gray eyes. She started wrinkling her green t-shirt around her finger, her toes wiggling quickly. I scooted towards her, letting out a puff of smoke in the other direction.
“It’s fine. I get it.”
“No. You don’t, really.” She shot back. I blew out another ring of smoke and nodded.
“My parents go out every night to drink. They don’t care about my brother or I. They just care about the alcohol. Still, that doesn’t stop me from partying every other night. I do know what you mean though.” I explained, running into her shoulder with my own. She looked up into my eyes, her own watering up.
“It isn’t that, it’s what happened because of it. My mother shot my father. My father was saying she needed to stop drinking, and he had said this many times before. Every time he said it, she would usually be under the influence. She would throw chairs at him and hit him while screaming in his face. It wasn’t pretty.” Mila said quietly, her voice low.
“I’m sorry, girl. Was that why your father died?”
“Yes. I was part of it too, though.” She said, her voice fading. I saw her continue to fiddle with her shirt, wrapping it around her index finger over and over again. She gazed out toward the window, looking out into the town that she barely knew. I took in a drag then blew it out in the same direction.
“How were you part of it?” I asked again, thinking she wouldn’t answer. Surprisingly, she did.
“I was sitting at the top of the stairs, watching her scream at my father. He never did a thing wrong, ever. He only tried to help her. My mother was very drunk that night, screaming at him, that she didn’t think anything was wrong at all. I couldn’t take it anymore so I ran down the stairs and stood by my father, crying.” Mila said, a tear falling down her pale face. I stood up, setting my cigarette in the ashtray by the window. I walked towards my desk, picking up a toilet paper roll that I always set there. I handed the roll to her and she wiped her eyes dry.
“Sometimes it’s hard to talk. You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.” I said, hoping that her tears weren’t because of me. She sniffled and rubbed her nose, smiling quickly.
“It’s fine, I need to let it out sometimes.” She said, taking in a deep breath, about to explain more, “So I stood next to my father, my mother looking at me like I was some kind of insect. I told my mom that I thought her drinking was too much as well. I said that I was sick of the damage she was creating with in our family and it was to much for me to handle.
“Then she unbuttoned her jacket and calmly sat on the couch, reaching into her jacket. I thought she just had an itch or something, but I was wrong. She looked up at my father and stared at him. She then said, ‘you have been telling our daughter too much. You need to stop making her go on your side and you need to learn your place.’ She said all this to him, with her hand in her jacket. I slowly began walking towards my mother, sitting beside her, grabbing her arm. She then pulled out a small pistol and pointed it at my father. He stood there, taking in the situation. I couldn’t speak. She pointed the pistol at him and said, ‘Why would you go against the family, Jay.’ And she shot him. She shot him right in the heart, bleeding out onto the rug and then falling onto his blood.” Mila finished, crying into her palms. I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t know how to react to such a dramatic story. I pushed the toilet paper towards her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, setting my head on her shoulder.
“It will be fine. Everything will get better now, you’ll see.” I said, trying to be some sort of encouragement. This poor, poor girl. How can someone go through so much so abruptly? She moved her head up, wiping her hands on the covers of my bed. She sniffled into her red, button nose and grinned.
“I’m counting on everything getting better now.”

The sun was setting gently in the distance over the lake and the smoke from my joint made the water look like it was on fire. Maybe it wasn’t the smoke exactly; maybe it was more what marijuana does to you. It seriously makes you see things that aren’t there.
Right now, I felt as if I was on a pirate ship and I was the front mantel. Usually those things were mermaids or some beautiful, topless women. My legs hung out the window and I hung onto the bar surrounding my window with one hand and the joint in the other. I took in a drag and blew it out, leaning against the side of my window. Windows should have been made much higher off the ground, so kids like myself, wouldn’t dangle out them or sneak out at night. This was always very dangerous, but it was something relaxing. Every night this summer, I had sat and watched the sunset while smoking. One wonders where I store my treasures. I keep it all in a little hole I dug into my flooring under my bed. I chiseled out a small square into the wood floor with a knife and it pops up barely enough for someone to see it, yet enough for me to open it and find it.
As I gazed into the sunset, a small red jeep drove into the parking lot, the car’s interior vibrating with sound. I dropped my joint and a smile plastered my face. Ian was home. The jeep’s door opened and my brother popped out, staring up in my direction.
I swung my body out the window, both hands gripped onto the bar inside. I slid one hand down to the bottom of the sill then popped onto the grass and raced towards my brother. Thank goodness for living on the first level. The grass was layered in fresh dew as I ran, my feet bare through the strands of emerald grass. As I got closer, I realized that Ian’s hair had grown out to a little below his ears and his clothing had changed a bit since he had left for Boarding School. I ran towards him and threw my arms around his waist, him doing the same. He lifted me off the ground and swung me in a circle. I let go of him and backed up. He set his hands on his hips and leaned on one leg.
“How the hell are you? You’re home earlier then I expected.” I exclaimed, hopping up and down partially because of my excitement but also because of my high. Ian scratched his head and his arm fell to his side. I realized that his jeans were much baggier then usual and he was just wearing a brown, long sleeved shirt with the usual navy blue cap on backwards. I pushed him in the shoulder in a playful manner then stepped back, leaning onto his jeep.
“My flight got in early and I wanted to surprise you! You’re still smoking I can see.” He said, flinging his hand in front of his nose. I nodded and twisted in a circle around myself.
“Yes I am! Would never give it up!” I shouted. He turned to close his door then began to walk towards his trunk, opening it to show four suitcases full of belongings from boarding school. He reached in and grabbed two suitcases then predicted I was going to assist him, which ended up being the truth.
“I think you should give it up. It’s a wicked bad habit. It wont be cool in a few years.” He said, closing the trunk. He picked up his suitcases and walked towards the entrance to the apartment complex, I following. We walked down the hall to room 114, opening it with the key in my pocket. We proceeded towards his room, directly next to my own. We set his bags on the ground and then he fell back onto his bed, sighing.
“It’s great to be home.” Ian stated, leaning onto his elbows. I sat beside him, my legs wide apart.
“Yeah, for a year. Then you got college. You’re already done with school.” I murmured under my breath. Ian sat up and pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his face, revealing his stunning green eyes.
“I’m just taking a break. Sure I’ll be one year behind in college, but at least I can spend your junior year with you!” He said, punching me into my abdomen and making me fall back onto his bed. I kicked him with the heel of my foot in his shin and he elbowed me back in the waist. He laughed then sat back up, pushing his suitcase aside. I sat up as well, realizing a statement he said earlier.
“Since when don’t you smoke?” I asked, standing onto my two feet, my hands on my hips. Ian began to unzip his suitcase, kneeling on the floor. He looked up at me and grinned, lips locked.
“Since tenth grade when I quit. Some of the kids told me about their friend dieing from doing marijuana and ecstasy. It isn’t real cool, Spence.” Ian stated, pulling out a few dark colored tops. I was used to the preppy, pothead Ian Clavorok, not the dark straightedge Ian. He folded sweatpants onto the floor, followed by a sweatshirt. It seemed that everyone around here was unpacking.
“Well I’m fine. Besides, you left here where you were in tenth grade. You were smoking the reef back then too.”
“I smoked for about a year then got over it. You should too.” Ian insisted, leaning against the bed. I bent down to sit beside him, biting my nails. I guessed he was right, about the drugs and all. But I had done what I had done and I would never regret it. Never.
My brother continued to fold his pants then went on to folding his deep green and navy blue t-shirts. I smiled; I couldn’t help it. Sure I was high, but that didn’t change how I felt about my brother. He had always been amazing to me, no matter what situation I was in. I had missed him the last few years and couldn’t believe he was back. He was back in the household being the one and only son my parents adored. Being the perfect part of the not so perfect family.
“Any drama been going on?” He asked, turning to face me. I nodded my head slowly.
“Well, if someone’s father being shot because of their alcoholic mother is drama… then yes, there’s been drama.”

Chapter 2

Alexa

“Everett can you hand me the other shirt, please? The pink one?” I shouted through the closed door of the dressing room. I turned to view myself in the mirror and grabbed a bunch of my hair and pushed it to the top of my head. I studied over each slight curve at my hips and twisted to the side to see any bulges. I was wearing a jean skirt and purple cardigan that seemed to be a bit to small. However, I knew I would find some way for it to fit me.
I heard the doorknob begin to move then turned around to face Everett’s beautiful face popping between the door and the wall. I grabbed him inside and shut the door behind him, loudly. He looked behind himself, acting as if he were nervous. He had been acting jittery lately. I don’t know if it was because we were becoming a little more intimate or if he was just scared to be in a girls dressing room at the time. Either way, I tugged him towards me by his collar and began to kiss his silky lips. He pushed against the wall behind us with his hands heavily then pulled away. I stomped my foot on the ground and yanked on the edge of my sweater.
“Why’d you stop kissing me, baby?” I muttered, my bottom lip sticking out.
“I’m in a girls dressing room and here’s the pink shirt you wanted.” Everett stated uncomfortably, handing me a pink t-shirt with yellow sequence. I grabbed it and threw it on the chair in the corner by the mirror. He backed up towards the door, reaching for the knob. I quickly pulled on the bottom of my shirt and slipped it over my head, revealing my whole upper half and my violet lace bra. I could see him swallow quickly as I walked towards him, sticking my chest into his stomach.
“Making out in a dressing room is sexy, though.” I whined, wrapping my arms around his waist. He laughed and pulled my arms away.
“Not when it’s pretty much illegal.”
“Don’t you love me?”
“Of coarse! You’re my girlfriend. I’ll be sitting out there.” Everett said. He quickly opened the door and scooted out. I stomped my foot and then turned to face the mirror. I touched the skin on my stomach, pushing it into my ribs. I poked at my ribs, wishing more of them could be visible. The long jogs every morning this summer hadn’t helped a single bit with my goal of losing fifteen pounds before school. I had other ways of helping the pounds erase and I needed to work on those.
I slipped the pink shirt over my head, my golden hair becoming static. It fit pretty well. It was a little over my belt and the yellow sequence shone on the edges of the v-neck. I turned to open the door and saw Everett, sitting slouched over his knees. I leaned against the door, grinning slightly.
“Do you like it?” I asked in a hushed tone.
“Every bit of it.”

“What do you want to eat?” Everett asked, gazing up at the glowing signs from the China Dragon Buffet. His hands flew through his blonde curls and then onto his hip as he leaned on his right foot. I stared at the signs that read sentence after sentence of food; of fat.
“I don’t know. Maybe some rice.” I muttered, putting a strand of hair behind my ear. Quickly, Everett’s face turned to me.
“Honey, you have to eat more then that.”
“Do you want a fat cheerleader girlfriend? I don’t think so. I’m getting rice.” I exclaimed walking to the counter and ordering a small dish of white rice. Everett shook his head then ordered orange chicken, vegetables and pork-fried rice. I grabbed my tray, ordered bottled water then paid for my meal. Once we both held our trays, we walked to a two-person table with a magnificent view of Clint-Savory Harbor. The sun was just setting and it’s golden orb twin reflected off the surface. I turned to look at Everett then down at my plate. I poked the rice with the tip of my chop stick and each little grain rolled onto each other like miniature bowling ball hitting unstable bowling pins. Everett’s face was staring right at me, I could feel it.
“So have you started cheerleading yet? You haven’t talked much about it.” Everett said, chewing into a piece of broccoli. I quickly pasted a smile onto my face, close lipped.
“Try-outs were last Thursday and the squad should be pretty incredible this season. Have you started any, you know, singing things?” I said, taking a couple pieces of rice and squishing them into my mouth. My taste buds were screaming ‘stop!’ yet I continued chewing. Everett set his fork down and looked me straight in the eye. One of those looks where you know something is about to happen.
“Well, Alexa, my ‘singing thing’ is actually the musical “Guys and Dolls” and our director called me to let me know that auditions are two weeks once school starts.”
“Guys and whats? I still think you should play football, sweetie. It’s such a rush once you get out there and you know I’ll always be right there cheering for you.” I said in a whiny tone. I took another forkful of rice and shoved it down my throat. Everett shook his head.
“I’ve told you time and time again that I’m not the football type.”
“You can become the football type…”
“No. I’ve been singing and acting since birth and I would never give up my passion for some sport where guys shower together.” Everett explained, biting into his chicken briskly. I looked down at my rice and began to play with it again then looked up at my boyfriend.
“Okay. I believe in you so don’t think I don’t. Last year you were an amazing Concord Bernie with your wig and all. You sure were styling, babe!” I laughed, reaching over the table to touch his face. He grabbed my hand and pushed it harder into his skin, rubbing it gently.
“I was Conrad Birdie and yes, my wig was pretty sweet.” He whispered. Then, he clutched onto my fingers and kissed each one. A chill flew up my back and my face began to grow rouge. I loved when he kissed me. I loved the feeling of his lips against my own. I loved him.

“So how did your visit at Grandma Albadoh’s go last night?” My mother asked me as I walked in the doorway of my house. I shuffled my boots against the rug and then slipped them onto the shoe holder next to the door. I un-buttoned my coat, swinging it over the hook and began to walk towards my mother’s office. I set my hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her graying hair slowly then twisted to face her.
“It was nice, I guess. It was good to see Grandma Albadoh again.” I said, leaning against the door. My mother took off her glasses and set them on top of her papers then turned in her swivel chair to face me, her legs crossed.
“How is Mila doing?”
“Fine. She’s in need of some major foundation though. The bags under her eyes were tragic!” I exclaimed, laughing under my breath.
“I would believe that, darling. She has been going through a lot in the last two months. It’s very understandable.” My mother said. She spun back towards her desk, swung her legs underneath and dove back into her papers. I walked out of the office and into the family room, where my father sat smoking his pipe and reading a newspaper which was way to close to his face. I tried to tiptoe around him, tiptoeing around any more questions, towards the stairs going up to my room.
My room was always my place to be. It was there where I would study. It was there where I would think. It was there where Everett and I shared our first kiss together as well as going to second base. My room had light pink walls with bright pink lights scattered alongside them. I had a clear glass desk opposite my bed and a walk-in closet where all my clothing items were stored.
I tracked in and set my bags of clothing onto the floor near my closet. I clicked on the radio and jumped on my bed, stomach first. I breathed in my pillows; breathing in the cotton and the case. I twisted onto my back to face the ceiling, staring at my Brad Pitt poster that I had taped there since the seventh grade.
“Brooke called. She said it’s urgent.” I heard a voice hum from the door. I looked towards my sister, Catherine, who stood leaning against the doorway. I swung my legs over to the side of my bed. Catherine’s hair was curled to a slight golden wave just above her shoulders and she had the beginnings of makeup painted onto her small, tanned face. Her shirt was showing so much midriff that it was almost illegal and her white, see through, skirt could barely be called an item of clothing. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“She can wait. Where are you going?” I asked, scooting to the end of my bed. Catherine marched in and sat on the stool in front of my armoire.
“Stacy’s. She’s having a get together. Why do you care?” She asked, attitude spilling out from her lips. Just looking at my fourteen-year-old sister made me want to tear. She was becoming more like me day by day and it was hard to think we would both be at Clint-Savory High School this year; freshman to senior. It seemed like just yesterday that she fell off her little red tricycle. Yet, I guess growing up is just part of existence.
“I don‘t care. Just don’t hook up with too many boys and only drink until you are a little dizzy, you’re still young.” I insisted. Catherine rolled her eyes and stood up, walking towards the door. Yet, she halted right before the doorway, twisting her head of golden curls to face me.
“Don’t worry. I will.” Catherine said and then vanished into her room with a slam of the door. I laid back onto my bed, my legs still dangling off the side. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Yes. Catherine was becoming more like me every day, and that’s what frightened me the most.

Chapter 1

Mila

I wasn’t used to staring at a wide, luminous lake from my windowsill. I was used to seeing lush emerald willows and wild evergreen trees swaying in my yard. The wild daisies and golden buttercups scattered across my lawn like birds on a field. Listening to cars rumble their motors at night and music vibrating through the wooden floors below me, weren’t something I was fond of. I loved my sleep. Sleep was my relaxation and my escape. I hated being disrupted.
I shifted my glance and turned to face the room before me. Cardboard boxes and full garbage bags crowded the small space. To my right sat a small single bed with a black comforter and a lime green pillow. I gazed down at my bare toes as they scuffed the wooden floor beneath me. I could feel the slivers being formed through my skin and I didn’t even care. I knew I wouldn’t like this place. I didn’t like the reason I was there. I didn’t like it at all.
I bent down onto my knees, pulling my ripped, seaming jean shorts down on my thin things. I reached for a cardboard box and dug my fingernails into the tape. I used all my energy to unravel the tape off the box. I threw the white puffs onto the floor behind me until the box revealed a small dresser made of shear oak. I sat back on my heals, sighing, and pulled the dresser out of it’s cage. I could feel my face squishing to one side as I pulled the structure out, setting it on the wood before me. I looked towards my bed then back to the dresser then heaved it to the end of my bed, creating a nightstand as well as an item holder. After I had pushed it against my bed, I sat back and leaned against it. I blew the pieces of auburn hair out of my face and sighed gently.
The boxes filled my room to the brink. It’s surprising I even had this much stuff to begin with. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe how much you have when you don’t expect it. I used to think I had a lot. When I was young, I used to pretend I was rich, a princess. I would dress in my mothers old dress-gowns and sneak into her bathroom to try on her lipstick and eye shadow. She would never realize I was there until she saw me in my room talking to myself on my bed. She hated me during those times; the times when I’d sneak around and keep secrets from her. Usually I felt like it was my fault she would drink every night, thinking I had done something wrong to make her act so violently towards my father and even myself at times. I came to realize that it was only her harsh anger that was kept inside those bottles, not my own
I turned my head to face another box; a box with writing scribbled all over the side. It wasn’t a large box, yet it wasn’t small. I reached my arms towards it, pulling it to my side. I dug my nails into the tape and ripped it off, pulling the white puffs out and throwing them onto the ground. Inside were a few items, which I had never really seen before. Items that were new to me and made my curiosity grow and grow. I pulled out a shoebox that had black tape scrambled around it. The shoe was a Nike Sneaker size 9. It had to be my mothers. A chill ran down my back as I set it to my side and continued to scavenger through my finding. I pulled out a manila envelope that carried about three papers, each having to do with different types of clouds and unique airwaves; my father’s. I didn’t understand why my dad would have needed these papers because he had everything he had ever wanted right at his office.
He had been a meteorologist and a damn good one. Whenever I wanted to know if it would rain tomorrow, he always knew exactly when it would rain and how much. Snow days were never a surprise in our household because good ol’ Jay Albadoh would know. To me, he was my hero and the fact that he was gone was all I could take. The fact that he was gone because of my mother was an even worse aspect of the situation.
The last item in the box was a small tan envelope, sealed on the back by a round blue sticker. I held it close to my green eyes so I could look at the rough, fading paper. On the front it read: To Mila, From Daddy. I gulped and a large bulge slid down my throat. My face grew hot and I became aware that he must have written this a long, long time ago. Why would it have been in this box? Why had I never discovered it in the last sixteen years of my life? I set the envelope with the shoebox and manila folder and pushed them all underneath my bed, by my dresser. I stood up quickly, flattening out my gray t-shirt over my stomach and walked back to the windowsill.
The wind was still cool and the town was still moving quickly. The water from the lake was moving with small boats floating on its skin. It was weird being in a city. It was weird being in an apartment with my grandmother. It was weird being alone.
I bent down beside me and grabbed my shoulder bag, which held a small, velvet-covered notepad. I reached back inside to retrieve a pen and opened it on the sill, the wind flying through my brunette locks. Slowly, I began to write. Calmly, I wrote word after word onto the paper. Poetry. I had loved writing forever. It was almost as relaxing as sleep was for me. I wrote down my dreams. I wrote down my fears. I wrote down my life.
I suddenly heard an abrupt noise below me from outside my window. The sound of a window opening and loud, screaming music filled my ears. I rolled my eyes and bent my body over the sill slightly to see who lived in the complex below me. Whoever this was, he or she loved playing music late at night and loved driving away in the wee hours of the morning. I looked over the sill further and was able to notice something.
The scent of cigarette smoke climbed into my nostrils and my mind began to sink. I coughed a few times then saw a ringed hand dangle outside the window, a cigarette hanging between painted black fingernails. I coughed a few more times then a face popped into my sight. I moved back for a second, afraid the girl thought I was being peaky. I heard a heaving sigh and I moved closer to the windowsill.
“I already saw you so don’t think I didn’t.” The girl said monotonously. I bent my face back over the windowsill and viewed the girl. She took in a hit and blew it out in silver circles of smoke. Her face was covered in dark make-up. Black lined her eyes and bright blue outlined that. She had a lip ring popping from her bottom lip and her skin was snow white. For a moment I was worried to talk to her, but I didn’t want to be the coward I usually was.
“Sorry. I was writing.” I said quickly, picking up my pen and shaking it outside the window. I heard a low laugh and bent my face out again.
“Why would you be writing out your window? Windows are used for smoking and sneaking out of. Who are you anyway?” She asked, taking in another drag. I shut my notebook and leaned on the sill.
“Mila Albadoh.”
“Oh, you’re that girl.” She snorted, shaking her hand in the wind, her cigarette flame fading. How could this girl know who I was? I had no idea who she was.
“How do you know me?” I asked, my face still hanging out the window.
“I saw the moving truck come her two days ago and I’ve read your name in the papers now and then.” She muttered, sucking in her cigarette. I nodded my head, even though she couldn’t see me. I should have expected her to see my name in the papers, who didn’t. My mother’s name had been in the newspapers every month for the last six years. Ever since she had begun to drink nightly, she became violent. She would walk out of the bars and run in the streets, screaming at people and beginning fights. When I was younger I didn’t know why everyone knew the name Charlotte Albadoh, but I soon began to understand it all.
“Who are you?” I asked, setting my head on the tops of my hands. She twisted her head to look up at me.
“Spencer. Spencer Clavorok. I’m guessing you know no one, right?” Spencer asked, letting go of her cigarette. It floated to the ground like a small firefly in the early evening dusk. I shook my head as I watched the spark float onto the parking lot tar. A rush of sadness took over my body and my face turned solemn and I shook my head.
“No. It’s just me and my grandma.” I sighed and I began to play with the pen, bouncing it into my hand. Spencer grabbed a bar above her window and pulled herself so she was dangling her legs outside. She began to kick her heels against the tin of the building.
“Well that sucks. What room are you? Maybe I’ll visit you before my brother comes home.”
“I’m room 214. You could help me unpack?” I said jokingly. Spencer spit a wad of saliva out the window and then stuck her head out of it.
“Not a chance. Be right up.”

“So where’s the old lady?” Spencer said, lying on her stomach on the covers of my small bed. I was leaning against my dresser, searching through another box full of clothing.
“She’s out at the store then she said she had to stop at the doctors.” I groaned, piling pairs of jeans onto the floor. Spencer hopped off the bed and onto the floor, filing around the boxes. I turned my head to face her make-up ridden face. Her outfit wasn’t ordinary. Her short black halter shirt reeked of smoke and her black leather shorts were about as short as shorts could go. She was much taller then I had imagined when we just chatted through the window. Her legs were so long and so fit it was surprising she wasn’t a model. She leaned up against the dresser alongside me.
“Where’d you come from? Clint-Savory isn’t a town where many people visit often.” Spencer said, biting her nails.
“I came from Green-Haven, about twenty miles south. It’s all country land out there. I loved it.” I murmured folding a pair of identical shorts to the ones I had on. Spencer nodded casually, continuing to bite her nails.
“I come off to look like an ass, but really I’m not… usually.” Spencer laughed, tapping the palms of her hands on the rug. I chuckled quickly and twisted towards my doorway. I heard the door slam and could hear my grandmother’s soft steps as she walked into the room. She made her way to my bedroom and then leaned her slender, weak body against my doorway. She adjusted her glasses and then squinted towards Spencer.
“Hello dear. Who’s she?” Grandma whispered, waving at Spencer as if she was three years old.
“Grandma this is-“
“Spencer, from the floor down. I used to sell Girl Scout Cookie’s here when I was little.” Spencer said kindly. My grandma just stared at her.
“I don’t remember you. I like cookies though. I’m going to make some.” She said, and with that she shuffled her way out into the kitchen where I heard the radio pop on. I went back to folding clothing. Spencer reached into her pocket and slid a piece of bubble gum into her darkly lined mouth, not even offering me a piece.
“How couldn’t she remember me? I’m unforgettable!” Spencer said, chewing into her bubble gum. A nervous chill climbed into my back and I stopped folding.
“My grandma has Alzheimer’s.” I said sternly, turning towards my window and gazing out. I could almost hear Spencer’s heartbeat for a second then continue beating quickly again.
“That sucks. Well, my brother’s a moron. How about that? But he‘s okay.” Spencer said, her teeth grinding away at the gum in her mouth. I nodded, my face remaining motionless. I knew it would be difficult living with my grandmother’s problem. I knew it would be difficult, living in this community. At least I knew I had the beginning of a friendship brewing. I guess that’s a start.

I sat curled in a woven blanket on the sofa in our small living area. The television was racing colors of blues and grays; not reds or greens or pinks. My grandma only owned an old working television without much color or channels. I laid there, my eyes closed facing the screen. I could still see the lights changing through my lids as I rested. I could hear my grandmother’s needle’s whipping through the yarn that she was crocheting on the rocking chair next to me. The chair squeaked and rocked so loudly I never thought I would be able to get any peace. Then, a knock came at our door. I uncurled from my position on the sofa and stood up, pulling my shorts further down on my legs. I ran my fingers through my brown waves and stood on tiptoes to peek out the eyehole. Once I knew who it was, I opened the door.
“Mila! You haven’t changed a bit since Elementary. Where’s Grandma?” Alexa asked quickly, racing into the house as if she had seen me a million times. I hadn’t seen Alexa since fifth grade, back when our family did holiday gatherings. Since my mother had begun her rampages, we had stopped seeing most of my family. The fact that this girl was my cousin was unbelievable. Her hair was straight and platinum blonde, falling perfectly down her back. Her eyelashes were large and pokey, dark over her ocean blue eyes. She was holding a glass plate of maroon lasagna and baring her pearl white teeth over it.
I turned to grandma as she continued to sit in her rocking chair, knitting away and staring at the screen. She hadn’t even heard the knock on the door. I twisted back to Alexa, my face less then thrilled. She leant on one leg and her head was swinging to the side.
“She’s watching her show right now, but if you leave a message-.” I said quietly, joking. Alexa rolled her eyes and handed me the glass plate, sticking it into my chest.
“I’ll get her. God, why do you have to be so difficult Mila?” Alexa said, barging into the room and walking towards my Grandma. I placed the still warm plate onto the stove and walked into the room and back on the sofa, curling into my blanket. Alexa hugged my grandmother and reminded her who she was about three times. Finally, Grandma received some idea of who she was and hugged her back.
“I brought you both some yummy lasagna. Basically it’s for Mila and her welcoming, but it’s also for you with love!” Alexa added, sitting on the edges of my feet. I could barely feel her body on my toes as she leaned against the cushioned back. Her body seemed so thin it was almost embarrassing. Yet, she remained as pretty and as bratty as she had always been.
I closed my eyes and went back to the world where the shadows of the television screen were dancing in my head. To the world where my imagination could take flight. I closed my eyes even tighter, trying to close out the voices that were talking in the background. I closed them so tight that I tried to erase my past; and tried to ignore everything I had gone through. I tried to pretend I was someone else; someone like Alexa. I pretended my mother wasn’t an alcoholic in rehab. I tried to pretend my grandmother wasn’t sick and that everything would turn out fine. The thing was, you can’t pretend in reality and you can’t erase the past.