Happiness is a rarity in this world. People will go huge distances to be happy. College, marriages, jobs. But what people don't understand is what happens after you have done the things that make you happy. And that's exactly what was going through my mind in math class. "Stephanie do you know?" I popped my head up from my cold desk top. My eyes wide open, trying to convince the teacher that I hadn't been half asleep. "What was the question?" A quiet wave of judging giggles came across the classroom as the teachers eyes bored into mine. I opened my mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. "Stephanie, pay attention." She turned around and continued writing pointlessness all over the board. That's how the days of school always went for me. I never saw the point in learning things from other people. Why learn how to find the answer to an algebraic equation when you still have so much to learn about yourself? I always have believed this. Ever since preschool I was always the kid that my teacher would always request to have a conference about. "I'll talk to her about it I promise." My mother would always tell them. "We will fix it". It meaning me of course. Society always says "be yourself" or "don't let anyone change you" but how can we be ourselves when we also have to have an education, go to college, get good grades, do our homework. My parents would always scold me for failing my classes or lying to them about where I was. I would just sit there staring at the wall in front of me and wait until they were done. It never got to me that they were really angry. And I think I finally understood that the night I came home that day. I walked through the door and tossed my backpack onto the linoleum. We lived in a small cramped house. If you walked outside the heavy creaky front door, you would walk into an ally full of dumpsters. I always believed it was the allyway where people dumped dead bodies. Although I never had proof. "IM HOME." I shouted to my mother. She was always upstairs when I got home. I walked around into our ugly cheap kitchen. My mother was sitting at the dining room table with her hands on the sides of her head staring deeply into a piece of paper. Her blonde hair drapes the sides of her pale face. "Mom." I repeated, hoping for a response. She took a deep breath through the nose and looked at my with a look saying "You interrupted me.
What do you want". "I'm home." I repeated. Wanting partially to be noticed and partially to annoy her. "Alright Stephanie" she said looking back at the paper. I walked over and stared over her shoulders. The top of it said "NOTICE" but I'd rather not read if I didn't have to. "What's that?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it." She said, no emotion in her voice and never looking away from the paper. I rolled my eyes and walked up the dark wooded creaky stairs. Seeming to tell me to stay away. "Believe me." I whispered. "I'd love to." I opened my door. It was the one on the left that you'd miss if you didn't search in the shadow it was hiding in. I opened it, swinging it open against the back of my wall. The most silent door in the house. It seemed to blow a cold breeze into my face and it definatly gave me chills. I walked in and plopped on my tiny bed. I stared at the ceiling as I painted pictures in my head. I heard a loud bang outside and turned to see out the window. The garbage man was making the rounds again. I sighed and hopped up to change into sweatpants. Once I had changed I trotted back down the stairs and walked into my mother speaking to someone on the phone. The paper was being held in her hands. I craned my neck hoping for a better listen. "No Jason. I don't think it's for her." I sniffed my nose, hoping for her to turn around and see me. She didn't. "A HEM" I cleared my throat obviously. She started talking faster on the phone. "Yep. Mm hm. Yes I understand. Thank you. You too. Bye." She slammed the phone down and sat violently in the same chair she was In before. I took a breath to say something. "Will you just shut the fuck up, Stephanie?" She said sternly and slowly. Each word jabbing at me.
I stared with my mouth open, ready to speak but debating doing so. "Stephanie." She said slowly, as if realizing she had to admit something. I said nothing. "Stephanie please be respectful to me right now." She said rubbing her icy blue eyes. Before I could say anything to counter her, the door lock clicked. My dad walked in. "Hey ladies." He said shutting the door and locking it. We had always made a habit of locking it. He turned around to see me at the base of the stairs and my mother still rubbing her eyes. "You ok Jaime?" He asked. "Am I ok." She said mockingly. "Honey I-" he was cut off by the loud bash of the chair being shoved backwards and falling over. That's when i saw my mother I tears fall into my fathers arms.
"Stephanie go upstairs."
"But I-"
"NOW."
That's all I needed.
I skipped stairs and waited at the top to hear something. But all I could hear was faint mumbling and deep sobs from my mother. After about two hours of listening I finally heard the word that changed everything. The one that bitch slapped me so hard I knew my world was about to be turned upside down.
"Eviction."
