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Wiped Out!: The Neighbourhood
I jolt awake from my alarm clock going off and I smash it with my fist. I now lay back down and turn. I grab the tin box from my drawer and open it. I take out a cigar and hold it up, now staring at it.
Whoever said that no matter how hard their life gets they aren't smoking a cigarette is a pathological liar. I mean, yeah, it's bad for you, causes cancers, blackens your lungs, blah, blah, blah. But it's not like I'm addicted to it, you know? And I just turned fourteen in August, I got my whole life ahead of me to get black lungs.
Well, I actually won't have a life if I keep smoking, but, you know what I mean. One puff can't and doesn't hurt. And before you start telling me that one puff is the start of addiction, let me tell you something, you pompous prick; second hand smoking is even worse. So you're no better. And fuck off.
"B!" Miles's voice comes through.
"Shit." I place the cigar under my pillow and close my eyes.
"Yo! B!" He opens my door. "I know you're awake."
I keep my eyes closed. "How?"
"I heard you smash your alarm clock. You have a very loud fist."
"Thank you, I try."
"Get dressed. You have your community service at the farmer's market in 30 minutes."
"Yeah, yeah. Okay." I sit up. "Getting washed and dressed now." I get up.
"Good. I made breakfast since my mom and dad left early for work."
"Sounds good, prick." I give him a thumbs up.
"Bitch." Miles closes the door.
I grab the cigar from under my pillow and stare at it. I clench my jaw and place it back in my tin box. I close it and place it inside my drawer, then closing it.
Damn you, Miles.
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"Alright, a pair to a bench and fence, and get painting. Check in with me at two thirty." Officer West tells us as we stop at the benches along the sidelines of the farmer's market.
"Feeling very o captain, my captain, are we?" I quirk up and a few kids chuckle.
"Indeed, Brianna. Now get to work." He walks towards the cop car across the street.
"You wanna pair up?" Sage asks.
"Sure." I reply and we head over to a bench before opening the can of paint.
