Trailer Park Girl | A Novella| Completed

We are out...

⎈

Mishka

We are out of bread! Pick some up. Along with some cigarettes! —Trisha.

I sigh as I type a response to Trisha.

I don't have any money.

Try to get some! Or Kitara won't be able to go to school tomorrow! —Trisha.

I'll try. I'll try. I'll try.

Maybe when I meet RJ in the parking lot after school I could try to get him to...you know, have sex with me again. Then he'd have to give me something for it. Mom says it's best to never take less than fifty pounds. RJ makes money from drugs. I don't know much, but drugs ain't cheap. He can pay me good pounds in exchange for him doing anything he wants to do...

As soon as school ends, my teacher, Ms. Christian calls me up to the desk. Her name's befitting. She's a Christian. Always telling us Jesus will save us. I'm still waiting for him to save my family. But...I'm not rushing him. There're so many people in the world.

"Mishka? You think you can stay after school tomorrow? I need some help in the art room."

I can't. I do job hunting on Fridays. I lost my job last week, when my boss wanted to make advances I didn't want...

When she sees me pause, she says: "Nevermind..." She flicks her wrist. "I'll ask Amanda. Enjoy your evening..."

I feel bad, but don't say anything as I hurry out of the classroom.

In the parking lot, RJ is waiting, leaned up against his car. His friend is there again. When they see me coming, RJ just watches me with that squinted look he'd give to me. His friend just smirks like he's starring in some James Dean movie.

I stop in front of RJ and ask: "You ready?"

"You ready?" He counters. "These jolly ranchers aren't so jolly."

I smile. "Nothing is really jolly. Almost everything is a facade. After a time, it all mulls into one big dull space and things all start to feel the same. It's a matter of perception, really..."

RJ's friend looks at him like: you really talk to this freak? But RJ doesn't look at him. He's staring at me like I just recited the greatest speech in this whole lifetime.

"See you later." His friend leaves.

RJ nods to his car. "We'll deal at my house. I got some sweeter ones there."

"Alright..."

•

In his car, it's quiet. Smells like cigarettes and cherry soda—the ones from in-and-out fast food places. There's also another smell I can't make out. Not a bad one—but it is a bit weird.

There's no tangled panties. No condom packets. He cleaned up a little.

When we get there, RJ's house is different this time. The first time it was empty, and now, there're people everywhere.

Well, not people. Just a bunch of guys.

And they're not everywhere. Just on the sofa.

"Who are these people?" I ask him, and he says:

"My brother's friends."

"Yo, your lil bro is here!" A guy says where he sits in front of the box-Tv, and an almost bald-headed guy lifts his head and looks over the cream sofa.