Destroyed

Chapter 5: I Am In Misery

I spent the entire lunch period, talking to Paige and Jared about the incident yesterday. I told them about Jerry's stupid prank and Isabel's rancid note.

As soon as I mentioned them about Mr. Jenkins giving the entire class a pink detention slip, Paige and Jared laughed so hard that tears escaped from her eyes. Luckily, the cafeteria is loud so people didn't hear us.

"W-what else do you do?" Paige stammered. "After Isabel saw you wrote the something on the note?" "She accused me of starting the whole thing," I explained. "So, I did my detective reverse psychology. I told Mr. Jenkins about her writing the note, even though he told everyone not to harass me."

"In response, Mr. Jenkins gave Isabel and her goons three weeks of detention." Jared sipped his waterbottle while Paige only stared. "What did you write in the note?" she asked.

I leaned forward to make sure that no one was listening. "Get a life," I answered. Paige nearly toppled out of the chair laughing like a crazy maniac. Jared laughed as well, but looked at her as if she was insane. A streak of tomato red appeared on her cheeks.

"You are my hero," Paige giggled, hugging me tightly. "I have been wanting to say that since first grade." "Me too," I giggled back, squeezing her back. "I just wish I could see the look on her face when she saw that." Paige admitted.

I nodded as if I understood then leaned against her shoulder. "Divorce suck," Jared sighed, patting his sister's hand. "Divorce does suck," Paige agreed. I nodded again. After lunch, we all headed down to History class to start our lessons.

Mrs. Triton is sitting in her desk, already finished typing something in the computer. When she was finished, she put her reading glasses on and began class.

She began her lesson about the Vietnam War while we students jot down grey letters on our notebooks. As soon as Mrs. Triton is finished speaking about Vietnam, she had an announcement that the eleventh graders will be having a History field trip in three weeks.

All of us were excited about the field trip, especially the popular kids. Reaching the slips of white paper from of her desk table, Mrs. Triton passed the field trip permission slips around the class and smiled.

"Make sure you have your parents sign your permission slips as well as pack money for lunch or a souvenir." After the dismissal bell rang, my classmates gathered their things and left the history classroom.

As my friends and I walked over to our lockers, the twins patiently waited for me to add more textbooks into my backpack. As soon as I locked my door shut, we managed to endure the heavy luggage and hurried outside to greet our parents.

A slim, attractive blond woman waved the twins hello, which Paige decided to ignore, and invited them inside the car. "Hello Ms. Clayton," I beamed happily. Ms. Clayton waved back then noticed the sad look on her daughter's face.

"What's wrong, Paige?" she asked. Paige only shrugged then sat next to a Jared. Their mother let out a long sigh then drove her blue Porsche out of the parking lot. "Hey Cleo," Mom beamed. "Come on, I made you your favorite meals!"

I found her sitting in the driver seat, waving her hand back and forth as if she is trying to capture my attention. "Okay," I said, blushing fiercely. "Sorry, Mom." I quickly hurried to the back passenger seat then closed the door across from me.

As she saw me strapping my seatbelt on, Mom started the ignition and drove a long way home. After the long silence came out of the blue, I asked her about Uncle Seth and Dad.

"Your father is still catching up at work, and your uncle is in his room, listening to music. A questionable look appeared on my face. "How come?" I asked. Mom let out a long sigh then told me that his girlfriend cheated on him not too long ago.

"What?" I shrieked. Poor Uncle Seth. "I can't believe this." "Your father and I saw this coming," Mom explained. "It took me nine hours to try and cheer him up or even drag him out of his room."

"Is there something I can do to help?" I asked. As we came across a stoplight, Mom gently pressed the brake pedal then turned her head to face me. "Since you care so deeply about your uncle," Mom began. "You can start by taking his dinner upstairs."

I nodded eagerly. As the car parked on the driveway, we crawled out and headed over to the house. But when I came inside, I heard a loud music coming from upstairs. One twenty-one guns... it sang.

Mom pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance and walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner. She plopped porkchops, collard greens, and macaroni on to a plate then handed it to me.

I followed the lyrics upstairs and staggered into my bedroom until I found Uncle Seth, lying facedown on my bed. The door thudded against the music coming from the battered radio.

It was stupid to knock on my door, but I didn't anyway. "Seth's not here right now," the red haired man grumbled. "Please leave a message and I will get back to you." "Uncle Seth," I began. "This is my bedroom!"

Uncle Seth reluctantly rolled out of bed and walked over to me. This man wasn't the uncle I loved. Red hair is covering his eyes, his beard grew bushy and wild, and he wears grey pajamas.

A thick odor of death hurt my nose. I recoiled the stench then handed him his meal. Uncle Seth thanked me then slammed the door in front of me. Annoyed, I pounded on the door. He opened the door again then stared down at me.

"Uncle," I sighed. "Are you okay? You smell like you haven't taken a shower in years." "I don't need a shower," Uncle Seth responded glumly. "I need time to think." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You need to come downstairs," I continued, talking loud over the music. "Mom is worried about you. I want you to be happy." A maniac laugh came out of Uncle Seth's throat.

"Yeah, and I want to marry Charlize Theron, but dreams suck, don't you think?" he asked bitterly. I didn't know how to respond to that. Uncle Seth handed me back a dirty plate then patted his hairy hand on my head. "Now, if you will excuse me." Uncle Seth began. "I need to wallow in my room alone."

"But this is my room-" I insisted. "Whatever," he groaned. Uncle Seth slammed the door in my face again, but this time, he locked it.