Buddy Holly Keeps Me Sane

Chapter 1

Setting is dumpy side of the city of Cleveland, Ohio. Zoom in on girl running down street. Girl has on torn baggy jeans, striped red and black jacket and white t-shirt. Dark eyeliner surrounds her pale blue-grey eyes. Her hair is black. Her ethnicity: American. Her age: 16.

...And cut the stupid introduction. Yea okay that girl is me. My name? It's Harper. And I am late for school. Again.

"Hey, Harper! Keep this up and you'll be a top track runner!" The butcher shop owner, Tim, yelled.

"Shut up Tim!" I yelled back without stopping.

I ran as fast as I could with what little energy I had since I hadn't eaten breakfast. My messenger bag flapped wildly behind me as the minutes until the late bell rang got smaller. I had to run seven blocks to school in ten minutes. For normal human beings, that is pretty freakin' impossible. I am not normal. I run this just about everyday. But hey, I can't help that I live with an alcoholic father who drinks his paychecks away so I live on what little I can and end up so exhausted at night that I sleep through my alarm.

With less than two minutes to go, the school became in my view. I grinned and dug deep into my energy storage. I made it in my seat with a little less than a minute to go.

"New record!" my best friend, Dani, exclaimed and reached out her hand for a high five.

"Too exhausted." I huffed.

She took a breakfast sandwich from McDonalds out of her bag and handed it to me. "Here's a present. When was the last time you ate?" I scarfed it down in a hurry and it tasted so good and even felt great to have something in my stomach.

"Let's see, today is Thursday? I had half a sandwich for lunch on Tuesday, thanks to you." She sighed a deep sigh. I smiled, "Hey come one and smile! I'm so used to it it doesn't affect me! It's not so bad once you get used to it!"

She glanced over at me and smiled, "You're so optimistic about it all! I can't help but smile! Besides, I know that you're gonna make something out of yourself and get out of this life you've got right now!"

I grinned and stuck out my pinky finger, "Swear?"

She locked hers with mine, "Swear."

Just then, the math teacher Mr. Randall walked in five minutes late like he usually does. "Pull out your homework assignments..."

...

The first half of the day went by smoothly; the breakfast sandwich helped me stay focused on class rather than food. It was really hot in homeroom so I had to take off my jacket, not something I wanted to do, and stretched out my arms.

"What are those, Harper?" Mr. VanVleet, my homeroom teacher, asked, pointing to my scars and bruises that covered my arms. This is why I hate short sleeves.

"It's all good," I smiled, "These are just scars from last year. And each bruise has it's own story; I can tell you all of them if you want."

He chuckled and shook his  and shook his head, "That's quite all right, I believe you. I don't think you'd purposely bruise yourself unless that's what's in nowadays. I'm just making sure you're all right." I gave him a thumbs up and he walked away and I continued to fake read the book in front of me.

At the beginning of my freshman year, last year, I got fed up with everything and began to cut myself. It's not like there was anyone to stop me at home, so I cut myself almost every day. Mr. VanVleet was my homeroom teacher last year as well and he was the one who first noticed it and got me help. I had to go to counseling for about a week and after that I stopped. I was telling the truth about not cutting, but I lied to his face about the bruises; that's another story.

...

After school, I hurried to Tim's butcher shop for my part-time job.

"Afternoon Harper! How was school? Didja make it on time?" he asked cheerfully. I shrugged and put my hair into a ponytail and put on a bloody apron; truth was I was exhausted. "I have something for you," he said and handed me a sack with a large steak inside.

"I can't afford this!" I gasped. He refused to take it back, claiming it was my bonus.

"You're too skinny! Get some meat on those bones!" he teased.

I thanked him and put in in his meat freezer. "I'll try my best to eat it all before before tomorrow night, or I'll hide it very well so he won't find it."

Tim's smile disappeared. "When will he be home?"

"Usually Friday night at the earliest. I think he'll most likely be home this weekend since he wasn't last weekend."

His fists clenched. "I can't stand that man! I ought to call someone..."

"No!" I said quickly, "He's still my father, the only family I got. I don't want to be taken away from here. Besides, I deserve it."

Tim slammed his hand on the counter so loud it made me jump, "You don't! It's not your fault your mother died! Harper, you're like a daughter to me. I can't stand this..."

I faked a grin, "Don't worry I'll be okay, I promise." The little bell attached to the top of the door ran as a woman with long blonde hair came into the shop. "Welcome," I said cheerfully, "What can I get for you?"

My mother died in childbirth while having me. My mother's sister had just had a child, so she moved in with my dad and she breast fed me and helped take car of my until I was three. I barely remember her, and right after that she and her family moved to Europe. My dad blames me for Mom's death and ruining his life; it was right after her death that he started drinking heavily and lost his job due to that. He's drilled it into my head since I was little and so I've always accepted that my birth was a terrible mistake.

The last customer left with a pound of ground beef, and I took off my apron and grabbed my steak. I thanked Tim once again for everything and took my time walking home. The apartment we lived in wasn't really a fitting home, but it was cheap. Everything was old and falling apart.

I unlocked the door and threw my bag into my room. I put the steak in a large frying pan and cooked it on the crappy stove. The smell made me drool and my stomach grumble.

I was about 3/4 done with eating my food when the door slammed open and he stumbled in.

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