Bruises

Aslees birthday

I can't believe I almost asked him if he wanted to walk together! I quickly gather my things and go to the hallway to switch out my books at my locker. Stupid me. Stupid stupid girl. You could've made a big mistake. Stupid girl, this is for the best.

I look back and I see confusion clouding his eyes. Why is he confused? Was it something one of the guys said? I wish I knew what they were talking about. It would be so much easier, if only I could know!... STOP IT ASHLEE, this is going to get you in trouble. You don't need to be the center of his attention!--but if that's the case, why did I feel that attraction? It doesn't matter fool! You can't get noticed. People ask too many questions. Ashlee, don't do it. You need to get away from that boy!

I can feel my head and my heart argue, bickering over who gets the final say. I don't even know where to begin.... It's probably best if I stay away. I don't want people seeing my bruises. It's too embarrassing.

I walk to my next class. I don't pay attention to the people around, instead keeping my hair down in front of my face, a shield to protect me against the rest of the world. I hum a tune under my breath.

^^^^<<<>>>>^^^^

"Ashleeeeeeee!" Abbey squeals, seeing me and barreling for my legs. I laugh. She's so cute, with her hair bouncing all over the place. Her hair is naturally curly, along with Hailey and I. But unlike us, her curls never stay in her hairdo. They fall out, into her face, and her crystal orbs just sparkle with delight.

Each girl grabs one of my hands, their backpacks already on their shoulders. They wait for me everyday. It makes me feel good inside.

We swing our hands as we walk, the girls chatting excitedly about their day. I watch them, grins etched on their faces and eyes shining in pure innocence and elation. These girls are my world, almost as if they were my own kids.

The girls tug my hands, almost dragging me down the street. "Where are we going girls?" I ask curiously. We stop in front of an ice cream shoppee, and the girls look at me pleadingly. My heart melts a bit... "Pleeeaaassseee Asshhh..." They look at each other and nod simultaneously. Uh oh.... "We know its your birthday Ashwee. Please can we get some ice cream?" What little resistance I had built up, melted.... How did they know it was my birthday? I forgot my own birthday! Wow. That's weird! No it's not, how old am I now?... Wow. I am 17 today.

I let the girls pull me in, knowing they had won me over with the looks on their faces.

It's strange how they know exactly which strings in my heart to pull, so they can get what they want.

They let go of my hand and run to the counter, standing on their tiny toes to see what flavors of ice cream are offered. I watch them for a moment, my heart dying to memorize the view. They're so darn cute. I would do anything for those girls....

"Abbey, which one are ya goin' to get?" Hailey asks curiously. Abbey stands with her hands on her hips, her leg pointed and her eyes distant, concentrating on the serious matter at hand- which ice cream flavor we were going to get. The debate was between rainbow and orange sherbet. Both sounded disgusting to me, but the girls both seemed to entertain the idea quite well.

A cashier looks at me from the counter, I see him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes linger over my body; he's studying me.

I bend down to the girls level and whisper in their ears, "girls, how about we make a deal. One gets the sherbet and the other gets rainbow and we head out okay?" The girls nod their heads excitedly; together we walk to the registers where the cashier who was checking me out says my total, "10.45 please".

I can feel my wallet cringing, dying a little on the inside. That's half my paycheck!

The smile on the twins faces make it worth the splurge. I have some money saved. We will be fine.

The girls walk to the park, which is across the street and to the left. This park is filled with trees and shady spots, dogs and their frisbees, and green grass and joggers. The park used to have a playground, but no longer does.

Ice cream starts running down the girls hands and they desperately lick the droplets, searching for moisture in this wicked hot air. I watch them quietly. When the other is tired of the flavor they have, they switch and so far, their system is going pretty well.

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When the girls and I get home, they run to their room to do their homework I go to the kitchen and prep for dinner. The clock on the stove says 5:30 in sad green lettering. I sigh. There's not much time to make dinner for everyone. Mom and Dad will be home in a half hour! Shoot. Okay ash, think. Check the fridge for easy to make ingredients for dinner.... SALAD! Alright, Caesar chicken salad.

Quickly grabbing the chicken in the fridge, I cut all the fat off, Chop it into bite size pieces and heat up a skillet. Within minutes the pan is hot to the touch and food is sizzling happily. The clock says its a quarter to 5. I feel the pressure.

Abbey wanders into the kitchen and wordlessly watches me. I make a face. She giggles for a second. She scrutinizes me carefully, before asking in her sweet voice, "Do you need help?"

I hand her place mats and set plates on the counter. She sets the table for me sparing me two minutes. While she does that, I put the salads together and I make my special Caesar dressing. I set it in a pretty bowl on the table, make small plates for the girls and shoo abbey back into the bed room.

Just as I close the door, I hear the front door open. My mom is laughing, quiet for second, laughs again, then makes a comment too quiet to be heard from my vantage point. The laugh is fake and so is she. She's on the phone and putting on an act. I hear her trying to end the call, insisting she must "cook dinner", but she doesn't really. Her dinner is on the table, to the right of the head seat. In the right corner, will be a clear glass filled with ice. On the right, will sit her weapon of choice tonight. I hope we chose correctly tonight. I hear a cluck of approval from the mother hen.

Within the five minutes of mother dearest coming home, I hear the rambunctious sounds of daddy dearest. His laugh is loud and boisterous. He sounds faker than Barbie, but I make no mistake in listening to the sounds of his drunkenness. A chair scrapes against the tile floor and I hear faint sounds of silverware clinking.

I have pleased them tonight..... But how long will this peace last?