The Life of a Teenage Drug Addict

Chapter 3

   I arrived home after school, stepping right out from Calculus and walking home, not really feeling like taking the bouncy bus with the sixth graders who think they're hot shit.
   When I got home it was, as usual, empty. My mother worked a 7-5 schedule and my father an 8-4 with an extra two hours afterwards that he spent at the gym. I'd begged them for a dog or at least a cat, but my parents thought animals were dirty and didn't like the idea of animal hair all over the house. They even forbade me from having a goldfish, thinking I wasn't responsible enough to drop a few flakes in its bowl every day.
   I dropped my bag by the front door and kicked my shoes off before running to the kitchen and jumping up to do a cool sliding across the counter trick, but ended up just hitting my hip against the counter and getting a bruise. I went over to the cabinet above the microwave that my mom couldn't reach and pulled out a box of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, ripping open the package and biting into it.
   Mom always scolded be to watch what I eat, which I did. I ate healthily and I ran every morning before I showered and I played spring sports, but even I needed some treats. And I had my moms metabolism, anyways. If I ate under 1,300 calories a day, I'd lose twenty pounds by the end of the week!
   After grabbing my snack, I collapsed on one of the plush Lester couches in the living room and turned on the T.V., flipping through the channels until I found a medical program on showing the different types of antidepressant medications and how they're made.
***
   I didn't know I'd fallen asleep until the slamming of the door woke me up. I jumped up from the couch, holding the back of my neck.
"Becca, you home?" My mom called from the front door before letting out a huff. "Obviously you are. What's this?" She shouted shrilly. It was her way of counting to three.
Quickly, I hauled myself off of the couch and jogged to the front door. My mom stood standing there, her platinum blonde hair held up in a clip, and her skirt-suit showing off her good figure. My mom hardly had enough time to work out, but due to her lack of time to eat and the amount of diet pills she took, it kept her looking good. My mom felt that appearance was everything. She didn't even step out of her bedroom unless she felt her makeup was good enough. I didn't care how she felt about herself, it was just annoying when she tried to get me to act the same way. She was what you'd call a perfectionist.
She stood, pointing at my shoes that said askew next to the others and my bag that laid where it wasn't supposed to. "Sorry," I say quickly as I bent to straighten my shoes and grab my bag.
"How many times have I told you not to make a mess when you get home." She sighed, the question rhetorical.
"Mom, it's a pair of shoes." I sighed, slinging my bag over my shoulder and jutting out my hip.
"And what could one mess lead to..?" She arced her eyebrows, hands on her hips.
"A hoarder. God, mom, I know." I turned on my heels and headed for the stairs.
"I'm going to start dinner so it'll be ready when your father gets home." She called to me.
"Okay," I called back as I ran up the stairs and to my bedroom.
I tossed my bag onto my bed, which was my parents old king sized mattress. My room was the second largest in the house, which was pretty damn big. His arced windows covered two walls and a small loft that I'd decorated with plants and old stuffed animals. The walls were painted a sage green and covered with pictures and posters, which my parents hated because they called it clutter, which made me just hang more shit up.
I collapsed in my desk chair and turned on my laptop, opening up my school website and checking up on what was going on. I had about eighty messages, most of them from Kate, Taylor, and Wyatt. But one that caught my eye was from Trevor.
   "Hey, missy, what're you doing tonight?" The message read and I couldn't help letting out a giggle and doing a little dance in my chair.
   Taking a couple deep breaths, I replied. "Nothing, really, just watching some Netflix. You?"
   His message came only a few seconds later. "Wanna hang out? The day's still young."
   "What're you thinking of doing?"
   "Maybe we could grab some fro yo or something. Do a little digging on Ms. Newberry."
   The frozen yogurt sounded good, but what really caught me was getting some answers about our missing physics professor.
   "You had me at fro yo. I'll meet you at Munchees in fifteen." I said with a smile as I quickly went to change my clothes.
   My laptop dinged an I quickly ran over to read the message. "It's a date."
   I smirked and bit my lip. Oh, yes. It most certainly was.