Wake Me Up (On Hold)

Chapter 3

As soon as I'm inside, I pop a piece of potato bread, my favorite, into the toaster, then take a seat at my wobbly, poorly painted, dumpster worthy table.

What to do, what to do... I twirl a strand of hair around my finger. Life is pretty boring when you have no money.

Why couldn't I have gone off to college with my friends? Even the huge scholarship I got for having acing every class and final wouldn't convince my  'parents' to pay the rest. I guess not all futures are created equal.

Was it my dad's death or mother's  ignorance that ruined my life?

Clunk, clunk.

"Who is it?!" I yell in the general direction of the front door.

No answer.

"Who is it?!" I yell again, a little louder this time.

Still no answer.

I quietly push back my chair and  walk closer.

Clunk, clunk, clunk!

My mind flashes back to the strange man I met this morning. He watched me walk home. Could he be a murderer? Kidnapper? Should I call the police?

Only one way to find out... I sneak over to the door. Goosebumps crawl up my arms. My heart pounds faster than ever before.

I bring my eye up to the peephole. I release a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding.. The rusty hinges on my door squeak embarrassingly loud as I greet, Bill, my overly enthusiastic delivery man.

"Hey, Bill." I say, a fake smile spread across my lips.

He answers with a sigh. Then, while we're just standing there in silence, he grumbles, "Hello, Jenny."

"What do you have for me today?" I say, as enthusiastically as possible.

"I don't  know," he says, "they don't let us read the mail."

Was that a joke?

He takes a box out of his bag, shoves it roughly  into my hands, asks me to, 'sign here', then leaves.

I cut the small package open with a butter knife, because I'm classy. Then, I spill the contents across the table. 

There's a small, empty, menial envolpe, a folded up piece of paper, and a tiny box of chocolates inside.

Naturally, I go straight for the chocolates. Who cares if their shifty or not? Chocolate!

While I'm stuffing my face, I unfold the piece of paper and give its message a look-through. Mhmmm... Interesting...

Whelp. It looks like I'm
moving out in a week.

This "gift" was sent by my landlord. Apparently my apartment contract has expired, and I have no money left to pay for it.

Where, exactly, am I moving to? My mother's house is definitely not an option. The streets would be a better choice... I would never have to wash my hair again, and I could eat free soup.

Hobo?

Mother...

Hobo?

Getting beaten up into pulp by my step dad.

FREEDOM!!!

Hobo it is, then!

Besides, street beggars make $50 an hour. That's five times what I made working at... Olivia's. I loved that job more than I love myself, so, of course I would way rather work at her store for $10 instead of literally begging for $50.

Things just aren't fair sometimes.

Scratch that.

Things aren't fair most of the time.

🌵Hey, little cacti! Yep... That's gonna be your nickname from now on. I'm thinking about entering this story into "The Watty's"! It may be this year, it may be next, who knows? Only time will tell. Boo-bye!👻