"Phoenix Opal Thomas, you have been sentenced to perform 400 hours of community service and pay a fine of $80 000. You have been served," the echoing bang of the gavel made Phoenix's stomach drop. She watched as people filed out of the courtroom, carrying her freedom with them.
"Nix, come on, honey. Let's go home," Walter Thomas spoke to his estranged daughter, watching wearily as she rose from her place in the wooden chair at the front of the Texas State Court House. Her slim legs carried her into the cold air, walking straight past her father into the brisk November air. Walter sighed, hanging his head sadly as he followed Phoenix out. By the time he reached the car, she was already buckled in and staring aimlessly out the window. Starting up the car, the duo drove in an uncomfortable silence for most of the drive, until Phoenix surprisingly broke it.
"When do they decide my community service project?" Phoenix asked emotionlessly. Walter sucked in some air quickly, before releasing it in a wild blow.
"Already been decided, I guess," Walter pulled an envelope from his back pocket, never letting his eyes leave the road. He handed the crisp package to his daughter, who quickly ripped it open and read the contents. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"Assist at the New York Centre for Mentally Unstable Adolescents? Are you fucking kidding me? I have to work with the crazies?!" Phoenix hollered, tossing the paper into the back seat. She wasn't about to hand 400 hours of her life away to some nut house.
"They're not crazy, Nix. They're different. They have mental diseases that they have no control over. You can't hate them for that!" Walter said, tossing one hand in the air. "Besides, you got yourself into this mess."
"It was just one party! There were 200 other kids there."
"Yeah, and you were the one to get caught with the cocaine, Phoenix. You can't blame anyone but yourself." Phoenix sighed at that last statement, mostly because she knew her father was right. This was her fault.
But partying and drugs seemed to be the quickest and easiest of all escapes for Phoenix since her mother died three years ago. At such a tender age of sixteen, Nix was just getting into the lifestyle of most teenagers; she just happened to get caught more often.
But it seemed that Phoenix was about to lose all that she had worked (or not worked) for to go hang with the psycho kids for 400 hours. It was a torture she wasn't sure she could survive.
"If I were you, I'd be more worried about the $80 000." Walter said casually. "There is no way I'm buying you out of this one." Phoenix groaned, palming her eyes.
"What's my other alternative to that money? Can I get out of it?"
"Yeah. It's called another 150 hours with the 'crazies'." Phoenix let another moan out, refusing to realize the grave situation she was in. There was no way she was suffering through this.
There was no way she'd survive.
==========
"So, 400 hours then?" Phoenix blew out some smoke from between her chapped lips, nodding at her best friend, Quentin. He took the joint from Phoenix's outstretched hand, pulling it to his own cracked mouth.
"Yeah, plus another 150 if I can't come up with $80 000 in the next three weeks. Which I can't." Phoenix said sadly, scraping her toes against the buildings gravel roof. Quentin offered her the smoking joint, but she declined, shaking her long red curls.
Quentin smiled at the familiar gesture. Phoenix was always shaking her ridiculous hair out of her face one way or another. "So, I'm pretty much never going to see you for the next 100 days or so?" He asked, and Phoenix shrugged.
"It's five and a half hours a day, so we can probably skype and stuff."
"I see," While most people were offended by Phoenix's stand-offish approach to just about everything, Quentin understood. Her lack of attention was commendable.
After the death of Phoenix's mother, everything became unimportant to Nix. She put her heart and soul into becoming a wreck. Which in some ways, was pretty plausible. She became the kid your parents warned you about, and she was damn proud of it. It surprised those who knew her before the death how quickly she changed, and rejected the offer of help and comfort. It was almost as if Phoenix fed off the death of her mother.
And it was killing her too.
"Hey, I have to get back. We have to leave at 5 am tomorrow. Plane ride, you know..." Phoenix said awkwardly, not knowing how to say goodbye to Quentin. They were best friends, but they weren't particularly close. She decided on a quick wave and an air blown kiss. Seemed well enough. Quentin caught her kiss and turned back to face the sunset, joint still in his hand.
Phoenix turned and walked away from her one true friend.
Little did she know, it'd be forever.
==========
"This is it," Walter said, eyeing the gate before them. The flight attendant had called their number, and Phoenix was ready to board the one way, direct flight to New York.
Phoenix eyed the people around her wearily. Most were clearly tourists, while others looked a lot like fancy business men who could think of a million places they'd rather be.
"Ready, muffin?" Walter asked his distracted daughter, who whipped her head to eye him.
"Don't call me that," she said, and strode purposefully towards the ticket counter. Walter sighed, eyeing Phoenix carefully. She hadn't even said goodbye to him.
Leaving at sixteen seemed strange for him. She promised to call him, to be good, to eat healthy, but he knew none of that would happen. He just prayed she'd make it out alive.
