The Emo, The Sparkly Vampire and the Biscuit.

Chapter Two - Closed Book, Damned Paper Cuts

Chapter 2 - Closed Book, Damned Paper Cuts

The next day was better… and worse.

It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque and my hangover wasn’t too bad. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Malibu came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class and to Chess Club, while Tequila glared at him all the while that he was nattering. It was great; I didn’t have to even try to understand the indistinguishable signs. People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Malibu, Tequila, Bourbon and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. Thank you liquor cabinet! I began to feel like I was treading beer, instead of drowning in it.

It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house startling me from my drunken stupor, I kept thinking I was having a stroke. It was worse because Mr. Banana called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer, I didn’t know that Whiskey wasn’t the correct one! It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it.

And it was worse because the local watering hole had closed....oh, and Eduardo wasn’t at school either. So I sulked for several paragraphs.

When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks from the vodka I’d downed at lunch., I changed quickly back into my black skinny jeans and ebony spider web lace top, complete with batty bra. I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased to find that I had successfully evaded my Malibu. He’s like a dog in heat! I fell into the truck, and scrambled about trying to find my shopping list and bottle of Jack Daniel’s. 

I managed to make it around the supermarket with the minimal amount of food. Just the bare essentials to survive and enough alcohol to make it fun! At home I wrote a few depressed emails to my mother, who had managed to find my email address and was threatening me with Juvie if I didn’t tell her where I’d stashed the Liquor. After hurling some abuse and chucking some spuds on to bake. I decided to ignore my homework, reading Wuthering Heights — the novel we were currently studying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was doing when Sharlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and break open a bottle of Vino. The potatoes were charred, but the cheap brutish wine masked the taste. As we sat at the wonky table, knocking back the drink and ignoring the potatoes, I asked a question hesitantly;

"Do you know the Doritos’s family?" 

"Dr. Doritos family? Sure. Dr. Doritos a great man."

"They… the kids… are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school."

Sharlie surprised me by looking angry.

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Doritos is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him. Lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He saved my life after that window cleaning incident. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite, if not a little emuish. But you’re an emu, and I put up with you. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature. I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should, camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."