Just in Need of a Friend

Chapter One

My brown hair was blowing in the wind as I neared the end of my book, and I realized that it was getting dark. I gazed across the grassy field where the sound of grasshoppers was so loud, that the name "Grasshopper Field" surely suited this place. As I looked off into the distance, I became entranced at watching the grass move in the wind, like people dancing to a slow song.

            The rock I had been leaning against was digging into my back, so I stood up to stretch. I felt as though it was time for me to be heading home now, so I glanced at my watch; it read nearly 8 o'clock pm. The same time I always left for home. But, it was darker than usual at this time, so I glanced at my watch again, thinking I had just read it wrong, but as I stared at it, I realized that the second hand was not moving, meaning the battery was dead. I did not know what time it was.

            “Father won’t be too happy,” I said into the empty field, “but it’s not like he actually cares.”

            I stood there for a moment longer, in the only place I found any peace, and then gathered my belongings to return home, hoping that I would make it there to make supper before my father did. My father seems to always be looking for an excuse to get into a fight, and when he’s worked a long day, coming home to find no food out for him is the perfect excuse to yell and scream, so I make something for supper almost every day before he gets home. But I didn’t know what time it was now, so I feared that I would not make it home in time to make something, and who knows what my father will do if there isn’t anything out.

            My walk home consisted of going down a short trail, which I had taken to get here, and down a variety of streets before reaching the small duplex in which I live.

            As I walked, I thought of how my week was going to play out.

            “Substitute for English and Science until Wednesday, watching a movie for History on Tuesday and Thursday, and my math review is due Thursday, with a test following it on Friday. Joyous,” I mumbled to myself.

            I groaned at the thought of the math test. I hated having tests as much as I hated my life right now. If my mother were here, she would tell me to cheer up and try harder. To try harder in not only school, but in life. This school year has been rough, but I haven’t made it any easier on myself, either. I have no friends or family, any that I did have any contact with ended quite quickly once they realized that they were the only one trying. The only family member who I ever see is my father, even then it’s iffy, and we both share a mutual hate for each other. Any other person in the community that ever talked to me did the same – they tried to help, but I just pushed them away. My mother wouldn’t have let that happen. But it’s because of her that it did.

            I walked past the day camp that I went to as a child and reminisced the times that my mother had taken me there. I remembered when she used to push me on the swings until I thought I was in the clouds, and how she would play tag with me because no one else would, until they saw how much fun it was. I thought of the times when she used to come to pick me up at the end of the day, and when I had had so much fun throughout my time being there that I didn’t want to go home, I would hide from her and she would always pretend that she couldn’t find me. I even recall that when I was a just a mere toddler, she would catch me on the slide, which was now overrun by leaves and dirt and sinking into the ground. I remembered all the fun, and laughs, and all the good times with her. I always felt loved with her around, like even if the entire world was against me, that I would be alright.

            I didn’t stand there a moment longer thinking about her for a moment longer than I needed to. It was just long enough to force me to hold back any tears.

            I continued to walk for another ten minutes, until I reached my street and noticed that my fathers’ car was not parked in the driveway yet. I stood on the corner of my street and the one crossing it for a few seconds while I went into a deep thought.

            “He must be working late again,” I thought. I could never understand why my father chose the job he did – a tradesman – when he doesn’t enjoy it, and could do greater things. He graduated from several universities, top of his class at each, because he wanted to be able to choose any job he would like to, I heard him talk to my mother about it when I was younger. He left his previous job several years ago, one that he really enjoyed, and became a tradesman, and everything has been different since then. He doesn’t pay the bills, and the groceries don’t get done by him, he leaves me up to do them. Every week, I’ll see that he has left several hundred dollars out for me to pay everything with, and whatever money I have leftover, I’ve been saving for the day I’m able to leave this house. I’ve only got three more years.  

            “Mom wouldn’t have let this happen,” I sighed. I missed her so much. I looked up towards the sky, and thought, “I’ll visit you tomorrow, Mom.”

            I strolled up the front steps that need a good cleaning, and unlocked the door, still hoping that I’d open it to my mother’s singing and the smell of her wonderful cooking. But as I opened the door, the same realization I had every day hit me, it wouldn’t happen; it never would again.

            I walked into the dark house and headed straight to the kitchen. No lights lit the way there, so I assumed that my father had not been home yet tonight. I flicked the counter lights on, and the kitchen brightened only slightly, the beige walls offered no warmth.

            I rummaged the fridge, cupboards, and freezer until I found a meal worthy item: a frozen pizza, the only thing that would feed us both until my father gave me more money. Until then, it’d be sandwiches and canned soup. “Delicious,” I groaned at the thought.

            I turned the oven on and set it to the correct temperature, then threw the pizza on a rack inside it. “I’ll know when it’s done.”