2 a.m.

Chapter 2

"Are you gonna come over tonight? You never did tell me what happened with you and Derek." I'm home, lying on my bed still clothed from the party we left over an hour ago.

"Are you going to tell me what that was with Ken doll?" Myra challenges.

"I did tell you, it was nothing. Just... old habits. I had to check on him."

"And the fact that you had already been thinking of him earlier...?"

"Means shit," I cut in. "Are you gonna come over or what?"

"What time is it?"

I turn my head and look at my bedside clock, the neon numbers illuminating my room just enough to see a vague outline of everything. To my left is a window that shows my second story patio, and beyond that the sky is black, with little white lights sprinkled in the sky. Some nights when it's not too windy I can take my blankets out and sleep on the lounge chairs under the stars. Thanks to my grandparents, who bought mom the house as a wedding present, we have a lot of space along with a really nice house. My grandparents were hoping the whole place would be crawling with grandkids by now. Too bad they only got me before my father dipped out.

We have grass surrounding us on all sides, trees in the front yard that would be perfect for rope swings and in the back there's a giant oak tree that provides shade in the intense summers. Towards the back of my room there's my walk in closet, and if you walk through that in the back there's a door that leads to my own bathroom. If you turn right instead of left though, you'll find my favorite room in the house.

I call it my sunroom, although since it faces the side-yard the only time it gets sun is when it's setting. A few weeks ago the guys put colored glass on the top half of one of the walls making a sort of mosaic looking half wall. There are blocks of red, blue, milky white and green and when the sunlight filters through it fills the room with gorgeous light. Sometimes we all just sit in here and talk for hours, till the light is long gone and we're sitting in the glow produced from the various lamps I have around the room. It's my sanctuary, a place even my mother won't enter. The few times she has come home to check in - strung tighter than a wire - and see how everything is. I know she's only coming home out of guilt. But still, she always brings cash till the next time I see her, usually a hundred dollars or so. Once she gave me five hundred and didn't bat an eye. Money is no problem for her anymore when she can sell drugs faster than she can get her hands on them. Working in a high position in the city gets you lots of regulars who are willing to pay high prices for their fix.

She's only come into my room once, and it was on one of her benders. She hadn't taken anything for a week- her supplier was running late- and in her frenzy she tore my room up looking for her drugs, convinced I was hiding them from her. She tore my floorboards up, flipped my mattress over, and emptied all my drawers. The only room she stayed away from was my sun room. She went to the door, and stopped. I was chasing after her, yelling I didn't have anything and for her to get out, when I saw she was just standing there, staring at the room. I had records on the walls, my pool table in the middle and the bean bags my friends and I used strewn about the room from the previous night. Only a few squares of color were on the window at that time, but it was enough to give the room a warm red glow. She stood there and I watched her eyes spin, like they were dancing on the walls following something I couldn't see. Then she just backed away, never taking her eyes off the wall till she was gone. She never went in my sun room ever again.

"It's barely two in the morning," I tell her as I flop back over and stare at the shadows on my ceiling, popping back from the memories I shouldn't spend too long thinking of. My phone is on speaker, lying on my chest. Myra's voice fills my room and I feel a rare pang of loneliness.