Remnants

Chapter 1

I quickly run a comb through my short brown hair. My choppy bangs fall straight across my forehead just above my blue eyes. I look in the mirror at the messy, morning-faced girl wearing long sleeves in the middle of May and sigh, displeased with my appearance. I glance down at my watch, the one I've worn every day since the seventh grade, and toss my comb onto the counter. Lumbering down the hallway, I stop by a door painted baby blue and peek inside at a small boy sleeping peacefully. I feel guilty as I turn on his light, disturbing him from his rest, but he has to be awake in time to make the bus that takes him to school. He rubs his eyes and sits up slowly, pushing the plain blankets off of himself and to the foot of his bed.

"Good morning, Micah."

He stares blankly at his bare toes, but I know he heard me. It's the same thing every morning.

I exit, leaving the door open to remind him that he has the task of waking up to do. He has to be awake to catch his school bus to first grade. Down the hallway, there is a staircase with creaky carpeted stairs stained with years' worth of substances. There is one that is a deep brown color on the side of the first two steps that I always try to dodge. I step past it, grasping the handrail, and continue downwards to the kitchen. My grandmother is already there.

"Why, hello pretty girl!" She says, taking a step towards me, her face lighting up. "Have you come to clean my house?"

As my grandmother puts her hands on my cheeks, I feel my heart throb and want to pull away. "No, grandma, I'm Katherine. Your granddaughter."

The stout little woman smiles. "No, no. It's just me around here."

"Well, you have me, remember that, okay?" I do my best to smile, but watching my grandmother lose herself day by day tears away at me. I know she won't remember that. She probably won't even remember that she saw me this morning, and when I come home this afternoon, I'll just be another cleaning lady. I remember when my mother was alive, my grandmother was so happy and well, but after mom's overdose, things went downhill fast.

"Oh, I will. Don't you worry." She turns away and goes back to the menial task of sorting out forks and spoons that she was doing before I came down.

I grab a bowl and stand in front of the refrigerator, deciding whether or not the effort of getting cereal is worth it. I look down at my watch again. 7:11. Nope, not worth it.

"Kat, what time is it?" Micah asks as he makes his way down the stairs. I tell him and he sits down at the table.

"Get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," He lays his head in his arms. "plus, you never eat."

I cross my arms. "I do, you're just never here to see it. Eat something now." My lie seems enough to convince him because he gives in and begins rummaging through the near-empty fridge.

We say our goodbyes and I slip on a pair of old black converse that match my shirt. I pick up my red backpack. Outside, my bare legs feel cold in the morning air, even though it's hot outside. The sidewalk is cracked with weeds crawling out of it, and the sky is gray up above me. The houses all seem vacant and sad, some with chain link fences giving off a prison-like feeling, and I begin to feel their emptiness seep into me, my expressionless face slowly turning into a tired frown just like it does every morning. A block of run-down homes that are almost the exact same as my own line the street to my bus stop. I am greeted with brief glances from the two freshman boys who live down the road and once killed a stray cat, placing it on a stick and parading around the street. Larry and Aaron-twins in the grade below me with wild tempers and unstable consciences. Larry's greasy, jet-black hair is slicked back with way too much gel, and Aaron's is spiked up, resembling Shark Boy. Aaron kicks a pebble at my feet, but I just ignore him.

"Katherine," Larry's face is twisted into a smirk. "How are you today?"

I look down at my shoes, avoiding eye contact with the boys. "I'm fine, thank you for caring."

"You're looking dark today." Aaron joins his brother. "Emo isn't a good look for you, you should try slut instead. I think it suits your personality better."

I roll my eyes. "I'm afraid there's no strict style for assholes, but maybe you could create one." I breathe with relief as the bus turns the corner and stops in front of us. Larry hops on, followed by Aaron. Neither of them have any school supplies, but it doesn't surprise me. They're not exactly studious children.

I take my place in the seat right behind the bus driver, Keith, a man whose last name-Gross-describes him perfectly. The smell of cigarette smoke seems to surround him like a smothering aura, and his beard has probably never been trimmed. His eyes are lined with a dark purple that make it look like he has two bruises around them. He's typical white trash, but he doesn't put up with kids acting stupid, and he's nice to me, which is why he's one of the few people affiliated with Underhill High School who I can tolerate. Most of the teachers don't have any idea what they're even teaching, and the principal reeks of alcohol on a daily basis. I guess that's what happens when you live in a place with hardly any money or motivation to change.

Ten minutes later, Keith heaves the bus to a stop, and I'm the first one to get off. I walk towards the looming front doors that are made of glass that has long lost its clearness. Students surround me and I feel like I'm being smothered. I push my way through the doors into the old, dirty hallway. My locker is down towards the end, and right next to a pretty blonde girl's.

She stuffs her books into her locker, the slams it shut so that it makes me jump.

"Kat," She smiles and bats her big blue eyes sarcastically. "You've managed to not get pregnant for yet another day. Congratulations!"

My red bag hardly fits in my locker, but after her comment it gets shoved to the very back. I stop myself from making a comment that could get me wound up in intensive care by her boyfriend, and instead I just smile at her. "Hi, Miranda."

"Stop smiling, slut. It makes you look even uglier."

I sigh. Nothing new from the straight-A, varsity soccer player.

After several more nasty comments, Miranda leaves, and I head to my first period math class to catch up on my sleep.