On the way to our new apartment, our car hit black ice and we rolled.
We rolled about thirty feet until we came to a stop. Mom had dropped out of the car a few feet back, the car had rolled over top of her. She was still alive, and the ambulance got her to the hospital.
I went to live with Aunt Sherry until Mom was out of the hospital.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love my aunt Sherry, but she's what you call an alcoholic. She drank about two packs of beer a day.
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Aunt Sherry grabbed a Budweiser out of the fridge and popped it open. "You're gonna drink yourself to death." I said. "Shush your mouth. I ain't gonna die. Even if I did, I wouldn't be afraid. I know where I'm goin'." she said. I rolled my eyes and went to my "room". My room was a spare room in the basement. I literally had a path to my door and that was it. There was one window that barely let in any light. My bed was two mattresses on the floor and all my stuff was still in boxes, since I couldn't fit in my dresser and the "room" didn't have any closets. I flipped on the lights and turned on the T.V.
My life had taken a complete nose dive since a year ago. A year ago I was the best cheerleader at Lincoln Academy, I had a great boyfriend, a nice house, everything I would need. That's until I broke my leg in two places, found out my boyfriend was cheating on me with the flyer on my cheer squad, and we got booted out of the apartment. Plus, my mom was in intensive care.
Great. My life was just great.
I did my homework and went back upstairs. Aunt Sherry was watching The Voice and criticizing the singers, as always. "Hey, Aunt Sherry." I said. "Hey, hon. Why don't you go next door and introduce yourself to the Johnson's? They have a boy your age." she said. "Yeah, right. Thanks for trying." I said. I crept to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I slipped a bottle out of the cardboard carrier and smuggled it downstairs to my bedroom. If this helped Aunt Sherry clear her mind, surely it would help me!
I popped the top off and took a big swig. Blegh! This tasted like crap! I had to get it all down, so I plugged my nose and gulped the rest down slowly.
After a while, I started to feel sick. I ran outside and found a bucket. I bent down and threw up. "You okay there?" I heard someone say. I looked up and there stood a boy. He reminded me of Taylor Lautner, only less built.
I leaned up and wiped my mouth, "Oh my gosh! What are you doing down here? Who are you? I'm so sorry!" I said. "Settle down, it's okay. My name is Brad Johnson. I live next door." he said. Great. The Johnson boy who Aunt Sherry wanted me to meet so badly. "Oh. Well, hi. I'm Vanessa." I replied. "I come over here and sort out stuff in those boxes back outside," he said, gesturing to the basement, "Your aunt says someone needs a bedroom and she wants to clean down here. I'm assuming you're the one who needs a bedroom?" he said. "Yeah." I replied.
He pushed a dust bunny around with his shoe, "So why'd you move here so sudden?" he asked. I couldn't tell him. I'd just met him. So I said, "I don't really like talking about it." He nodded and replied with, "I understand."
We were quiet for a minute, and then I spoke up, "Do you need any help sorting out those boxes?" "No, no. You don't have to. I have everything basically done already. There's only a bit left." he said. "Oh. Okay. Would you like something to drink? Eat? If you need anything I can get it. I'll only be in here." I said. I gestured to my bed. His eyes widened. "What is that?" he asked. I looked to where he was pointing and low and behold, there was the empty beer bottle on my bed. "Oh, um, nothing." I said. I rushed and shoved the bottle between my bed and the wall.
"That's why you were puking, wasn't it? First time having a drink?" he asked. I nodded in shame. "Why?" he asked. I turned to face him. This, this stranger! Barging in here and demanding to know why I'd had a few. How dare he! "Why do you care? Why should I tell you? How dare you come in here and ask me personal questions. Just go. Go clean the basement." I said. "Whoa. I'm sorry. I didn't expect this reaction. I'm just concerned. Someone like you shouldn't be having a drink." "What do you mean, 'someone like me'?" "You just... you just seem to me like you're carefree. Like you shouldn't have anything in the world so bad that you'd need a drink to get it off your mind." he said.
I just stood at him. "Well that's not even close. I've got a lot I'd like to get off my mind." I said. I retrieved the bottle and stared at it. "There's a lot in my head I wish wasn't there." I said softly. I stared at the bottle intensly. I shook my head and looked at Brad, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about this." I said. I threw the bottle in my trash can and walked out into the basement. "I'll only be upstairs. I always wait until Aunt Sherry's gone to go up. I might order a pizza, would you like some?" I asked. "Aw, some pizza wouldn't hurt. Why not!" he said. Brad pulled a box out from underneath the table and started putting some ceramic bowls in it. I smiled and trudged up the stairs.
I grabbed the phone and dialed the number for East of Chicago. I ordered a pizza with just pepperonis on one side, and pepperoni, mushroom, and banana peppers on the other, just in case Brad didn't like what I did. The pizza arrived in about twenty minutes. I called down the stairs to Brad and he came up. There was little sweat beads on his forehead that made him look even prettier than he already was. Wait, what was I saying? I shook my head to get the thought out and went to the kitchen to grab some plates. Brad opened the pizza box and smiled, "Pepperoni, banana peppers and mushrooms, my favorite!" He took a piece from the box and took a bite.
I smiled. Maybe this boy wasn't as bad as I'd thought.
