Dollar Bills And Homework Thrills

Chapter 1 - Black

Homework. The eight letter word that has caused so many people to fail and lose their social lives. That has caused so much of my life to be a struggle. But at least the A on my report in biology was not affected. Thank God.

A tap on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts, as I look up from the paper that is scarred with red ink.

"The bell went Ashlea. You need to get to art." My best friend, Amara says to me. I look around the room and find her to be right. Everyone has already left.

"Oh crap. Okay I'm coming." I stand up with a spring in my step. Believe it or not art was one of my favorite subjects. Mainly cause there was no homework.

We walk out the classroom and start walking down the run halls of River highschool. The place where dreams are crushed and made by a single fecking grade. Amazing isn't it?

"Ash, whats wrong? You know I'm gonna find out sooner or later." I feel sorry for Amara, her only friend has secrets as big as jupiter and she only hears what I allow to escape through my lying teeth. Every time I open my mouth the guilt eats me up. Oh well, this is for her safety.

"I'm just really tired Mar, my mum was up all night listening to music."

"Okay, well if you need me I'll be at chem. See ya Ashie!"

"Ugh, don't call me that Mar Mar!" I hear her laughter ring down the hallway as she skips away from me. She's probably excited cause she is gonna see her crush in chem. Oh I wish I still had my innocence intact.

I start walking towards the art room and find myself humming along the song that is currently stuck in my head.

Wish we could turn back time, to the good ol' days,
When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out.

I finally enter the art classroom and walk towards my seat at the back. No one ever sits back here. Mainly because everyone who chose art is either outgoing and social or really wanna learn about it. I only chose it cause it keeps my mind off things. I lose myself in the artwork and usually forget my problems. I don't know how thats gonna happen today tho. I don't know how I could possibly forget what happened last night.

"Alright class! Let's get into it!" My art teacher, Miss Heartly, the one who definitely lives up to her name with cheerful smiles and forgiveness. Sometimes it makes me wonder how someone could be so wonderful and happy in such a cold-hearted, dead world.

I tuned out the class and started to draw in my art book absently. My hands gripped the graphite pencil with force, the dark grey spreading over the page with amger. My mind was still stick on the events of last night.

After a while the teacher started telling us to pack up, in which I snapped out of my daze and finally realised what my subconscious had drawn.

It was the living room of my house. The bodies of strangers passed out on the couch and floor, with my mom amongst them. At the moment they all looked like silhouettes, but I could distinctly remember this scene from coming home last night and my mind instantly went to what had happened after I woke my mother.

*Ring!*Ring!*

The loud shrill tore me from my dark thoughts, with me looking up to see everyone leaving. I closed my book and shoved it in my bag with the pencil still clenched tightly in my right hand. It gave me comfort- just enough to make my way through the desks and outside the classroom.

I dont think I'll be able to survive tge rest of the year.

******************

The rest of the day passed smoothly, with no one bothering me too much other than Amara.

As I started the long, painful walk home, I realised that I couldn't go home, not just yet.

So, I wandered town on my own, trying to think about happy things such as unicorns and møther fūcking rainbows.

Like that has ever worked. But it was worth a try.

Just as I enter a more crowded area of town I pull out the chocolate milk I was saving for this kinda situation, and open it quickly. Gotta love my chocolate milk. It's about the one thing still keeping me alive these days.

Though, just as I rose the sweet chocolaty drink to my mouth, my phone rung loudly.

Ugh. Not now, mother.

Still angry about being kept away from one of my only pleasures, I answer the phone with a grumble.

"The fúck do you want, Mother?" My exaggeration on the word mother musr have been very distinguushed to her, and my impatience is certainly not helping.

But I immeadiatly realise what I just said, and regret soon slaps me in the face with a 'the fûck did you have to torment her for?'

Now I'm in some deep horse shît...

And just to add to my luck, as soon as I stop in the middle of the walk way, with people shoving their way through at a hazardous speed, I crash into a chest clad in a tight white t-shirt.