"Get to my office. Now," he says, gripping my shoulder and pushing me in the direction of his office. When we get there, he unlocks the door and steps through the doorway after me, closing the door. He sinks in to the upholstered seat across from me and stares at me, waiting for answers, something that I can't provide.
"If you won't talk to me, I'll bring your parents in to this. I think that there's something that you're not telling me, something that, in the end, could really hurt you," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"I have a friend, across the street, a counselor who works at the high school across the street. Her name is Fran. Would you be willing to talk to her? Why do I keep thinking that you're going to answer me? Tomorrow, after school, I want you to go across the street to the other school's auditorium. She'll meet you there. If you aren't going to talk to me, please talk to her. Okay? You're dismissed," he says as the bell rings. I walk home feeling heavy. I wait outside the principal's office for Anthony and he comes out ten minutes later. In those ten minutes I'm called a series a horrible labels, names, and words by passersby, but that's not important. When Anthony comes out, he looks satisfied, which I don't understand.
"What happened?" I ask.
"A possible suspension for Logan and a double detention for me," he says, "But it doesn't matter."
"It does matter. Won't your parents kill you when they find out?"
"Maybe, but it only matters that you're okay."
"No. That's not the only thing that matters. Stuff like that goes on your record and collages look at your records. I'm not the only thing that matters, Anthony."
"Well, you are my number one priority and I'm not upset so you shouldn't be either. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, although I know that my ribs are bruised. We walk home together and Anthony goes to his own house after giving me a short kiss. As I walk through the door, I am greeted my a list being shoved in to my hand.
"Okay freeloader, here is a list of chores that need to be done, plus you need to cook dinner and clean up after," my mom says. I stare at the list, but don't say anything.
1. clean all the bathroom, head to toe
2. tidy my bedroom
3. do my laundry
4. vacumn all the rooms in the house
5. do your father's laudry
6. sweep the front steps
7. mop up the mess in the kitchen
8. sew new curtains with the fabric I bought
9. start a fire
10. get more fire wood from outside
11. polish the pairs of shoes outside my door
12. bang out all the seat cushions in the living room
13. windex the mantle
14. refill the empty tissue boxes around the room
15. wipe all the picture frames in the house
16. sweep the stairs
"When do you want it done by?" I ask.
"Tonight," she says, "and if you finish, I'm sure that there is more for you to do." I get to it. I put my backpack in my room, along with my phone, which I put on to charge, turned off. I clean until 4:30, which is when I make dinner. I put defrosted hamburger in a bowl with eggs, bread crumbs, and a squirt of ketchup. I mush it together and squash it into a meatloaf pan, throwing it in the oven. I peel a large bag of potatoes and put them on to boil. When that's finished, I snap a few handfuls of asparagus and roll them in olive oil before putting them on a pan. I hit it with salt and pepper and put that in the oven. I set a timer and keep an eye on the food as I continue working on the list. I finish the meal when it's ready and put it on the set table. I go upstairs and tell them that dinner is ready. I have no need to insist that I won't eat because my mother expects that I continue working. When they finish, I clean the kitchen and go back to the list which I still haven't completed. My parents go to bed at 11, but I continue working since I haven't finished. When I finally do, it's 4 am. I take a shower and scrub the old eyeliner off my face, wanting to look decent for the new counselor. I blow dry my hair and reapply my make up. I put on foundation, dark gray eye shadow, and thick eyeliner. I just have time to pick out my outfit before grabbing my phone and running out the door. I think about my outfit as I push down the street on my skateboard. I'm wearing a white camisole, a tan sweater, black skinny jeans, brown leather boots, and a military green jacket with a zipper to the side. I pull on a black beanie as I get close to school. I go to my locker, keeping my head down. I close my locker and turn around, only to be swept off my feet by Anthony who grips me in a tight hug.
"Oh my God. Are you okay? Why didn't you answer my calls?'' he whispers in my ear, still hugging me close.
"My mom gave me a big list of stuff to do," I say and he pulls back from the hug to examine my face.
"You look exhausted," he says, cupping his hands under my chin.
''I'm fine, just a little tired," I say, trying to look away, but he pulls me into another hug. We get off to class and everything is fine until Ruby trips me in the hallway. My cheeks burn and I want to punch her little pinched face, but instead, Anthony helps me gather my books and we get on our way. We go to lunch where I try not to each, but I can't discipline myself. I eat almost half of the half of the sandwich that I buy. I get through my afternoon classes without any trouble, and when the bells dismisses us, I head across the street. I push open the door to the auditorium, where Mitchel told me to go, but no one is there yet. I sit in the back row and pull out my writing notebook. I write almost a paragraph and am considering leaving when someone slaps their hand on my shoulder, making me jump violently. When I look at the person's face, it's a woman with wavy, black hair that's pulled in to a low pony tail. She smiles and I see that she has beautifully straight, white, teeth. Her lips are red with color and plump. Her face is thin and pretty. I stand up and shake her hand, seeing that she's of average size, or even on the smaller side. She's in a white sweater and a teal pencil skirt with a peplem and shiny black heels. She also has on a black beaded necklace and she looks so pretty.
"I'm Fran, the guidance counselor. Your name is...?"
"I'm Alice," I say. It is my actual name, but I prefer Ally. I want to start honestly with her. Lets start with a clean slate somewhere...
YOU ARE READING
Sinking Through the Cracks
RomanceAlly has never had friends. Ally has never had parents who really cared for her. Ally has never had a peaceful day at school. She is anorexic, though she has never had it treated. She has horrible times of depression though she always just puts...
