Hope «h.s.»

Three.

Chapter 3:

"How was your day?"

Rene climbed into the car.

"Okay I guess," she said.

"As good as middle school can get right?"

"Right."

I drove us home.

There was nothing to really do at home though. No homework was thankfully given on the first day back from winter break.

We got out of the car synchronized.

"Hello there pretty ladies," someone shouted at us. Jimmy, our neighbor, was out having a smoke in a beat up lawn chair. He looked like my father. They were friends. Every once in a while, dad would have him over to waist a glass of expensive wine, but only on special occasions.

"Hi Jimmy," Rene and I said. Rene really liked him. He was way more easygoing than dad but they were so alike in a way too. He started a coughing fit so we walked away. With our knowledge, we knew it would take him a while to recover from it.

Rene opened the door. Beer cans littered the floor. It looked as though someone raided our house but instead of pushing everything to the floor, they just threw cans and bottles on it instead. It looked a million times as nasty as in the morning and it smelled that way as well.

No man occupied the couch. It was barren.

"Is dad home?" Rene asked me almost in a whisper.

"Dad!" I yelled, to answer her question.

There was no response.

"I guess not."

A slight smile rippled across her face. She always looked poorly upon our father and I couldn't say that I did not sometimes too. I am guessing she was happy he was not home, and a little part deep down inside of me was too.

He scared Rene, and I knew it. I always tried to stick up for us both, but he always overpowered the both of us girls.

But I couldn't help but feel a little nervous as to where he was. He only occasionally would be gone like this; he would disappear and no one would know where to. And he always came back more drunk than usual so I never questioned him in that state.

Rene's little legs carried her into the hallway where she disappeared. My little legs hopped over into the kitchen, grabbing a trash bag and returning to the front room. Bottle by bottle, can by can, tissue by tissue, cigarette by cigarette, I picked up the littered trash on the floor and threw it into the bag. It always satisfied me to clean up after my father. I did not know why, it just did.

After throwing the trash bag into the garbage can, I headed to my room. I set my backpack down, and immediately headed towards my keyboard. I grabbed it out from under my bed where I kept it hidden. I set it on my desk, plugged in my headphones, and let my fingers do their thing. I had to get my nerves from school settled down before I went off to work, and piano was always my answer.

My fingers interpreted how I was mad that my day did not go as planned. I was playing notes in a minor, a rustic sound that made the music feel eerie, like my day. I could not believe I had to do a project with Harry Styles. He was the last possible person I would have wanted as my partner. I knew he would not want to help at all. He never did anything as far as I knew. Him and his friends were fighters and who knows what else.

I sighed. Maybe our teacher pitied Harry so much that he chose me to be his partner.

At that thought, my fingers started angrily playing Für Elise on the gentle keyboard. My anger was slowly going away note by note like I knew it would.