I made my way to poetry club that Thursday. I arrived early again, so I could talk to Miss Reagan.
I knocked softly on the door. She looked up from her book and gave me a bright smile.
"There's my star." she said. I smiled at her.
"I wrote a poem. I'd like you to read it before everyone gets here." I said. I took Arabella's file out of my bag and took out my poem. Miss Reagan looked concerned as I placed it on the desk.
"You're not becoming like Arabella, are you? Oppressing your poetry?"
"No, no! I just don't want everyone else to get... suspicious." I said.
She looked down and began to read aloud.
Regret
What is the point of regret?
It's done; it is the past,
Why do mistakes make you upset?
How long will this feeling last?
You should've thought it through;
The impact it would make,
The things you'd have to do,
The lives you'd have to take.
You learn from your mistakes,
Don't dwell on them too long,
Accept the pain and aches
So that you can move on.
There's too much that you'll say
For over everything to fret,
Your entire life may
be an abyss of regrets.
You can't take back what you've done,
You have to accept the facts,
Now you cannot run
From your vile acts.
"Lyra, this is amazing, but..." She stared at the paper.
"It's about Adrian." I said.
"This is about your relationship?" I nodded. "Oh, I thought it was about Arabella's death." she said, looking slightly relieved.
I looked down at my feet. I hated lying to Miss Reagan.
***
Mom was still in bed when I got home from school. She hadn't left the house since my dad had left us.
I was doing my homework when I got a text. I watched my phone lay in front of me for a while, like it would've transformed into something dangerous. I picked it up and saw it was from May.
LYRA WHITE, WE'VE FOUND A HOME FOR ANGELA JUSTICE
I couldn't express my happiness except for the tears of joy that came streaming down my eyes.
May, how can I thank you! This is incredible! You are amazing! I'm going straight to Angela to get her!
I left the house immediately, going straight for Angela's. I ran most of the way, attempting to use up all the energy the news had given me.
I walked up to the door and knocked confidently. I heard loud, heavy footsteps come up to the door, making the wooden floor creak eerily. Then, the door opened.
The overwhelming stench of alcohol came over me. A tall, drunk man stood in front of me with a bottle of vodka in his hand.
"What do you want?" he slurred, stumbling side ways.
"Ummm... I-I would like to talk to Angela." I said firmly. He glared at me.
He turned back. "ANGELA! GET OVER HERE NOW!" he screamed.
Angela came running, trembling in fear. Her eyes glittered when she saw me.
"Angela, can we talk outside?"
"No! If you're going to talk to her, you talk to me, too." her uncle shouted.
"Excuse me, sir, this is a private conversation I would like to have with her." I said. He stepped forward and towered over me, sending his toxic breath through my nostrils.
"You talk to both of us, or you leave." he threatened.
"I'm not leaving." I stood tall.
He slapped me across the face with his free hand, so hard that I fell. Angela started hitting and punching him. He was about to beat her.
I stood up as fast I could. My head was spinning but I could still see.
"Angela run!" I screamed, as I reached for the bottle in his hand and smashed it over his head. He fell unconcious. I stood, breathing heavily for a moment.
"Lyra!" Angela called. She was in tears. I dropped what was left of the bottle and ran to her. I took her hand and started walking her to my home.
YOU ARE READING
The Girl With Blue Hair
Novela JuvenilShe was the gentle soul that had no friends. She was different but was never aknowledged. She was screaming, but no one heard her. What drove her to that point? How could she take her own life? What if she... didn't? *** •If you are sensitive to sui...
