The Saving Bailey Trilogy 1: The Bullet List

Chapter 2

                                                                  Chapter 2

        I dread walking into the school when the horn blares, signaling that we are allowed to go inside. My bandages are coming apart and with my awkward gait, and red sleepless eyes, I look like a zombie. The last thing I want is to interact with any form of life. Nonetheless, Alana comes up to me with her usual sprightly bounce.

         “What happened to you?” Alana asks.

         “A semi ran me over on my way to school,” I say nonchalantly.

         “Yeah, funny. What really happened? Did Miemah beat you up?”

          “No, but my mom did,” I say.

         “She got drunk didn’t she?”

         “You know her so well.”

         “I really got to tell my mom to stop giving her bottles of vodka as presents,” she says in all seriousness.

         “What!” I shriek.          

          “You didn’t know? My mom gave your mom a huge bottle of vodka for her birthday yesterday. She must have drunk it all up at once.” Alana laughs hysterically.

          “Are you serious? That’s not funny!” I punch her on the shoulder.

         “Oww!” she whimpers and rubs where I hit her.

            How could I have forgotten Mom’s birthday? An unwanted feeling like fingers creeping up my throat comes over me. “Some birthday,” I croak to Alana.

         “What you didn’t get her anything?” she asks innocently.

         I grit my teeth and snarl, “You are so damn stupid.”

          I walk away.

         “What? What did I say?” she calls after me.

         I can’t believe that I made my mom feel so lousy on her birthday. She was drunk because she was celebrating. I could have told her happy birthday and given her presents, but I chose to be selfish and reprimand her for being drunk. I broke her only birthday present, I realize with a sinking feeling.

         Alana catches up with me, out of breath. “She hit you because she was drunk, right?”

         “Ding, ding, we have a winner!” I say.

         “What happened to your hands?”

         “I don’t want to talk about it,” I choke, tears surfacing in my eyes. “I got to get to class, we’ll talk later.”

         Alana opens her mouth to say something, but I lose her in the crowded hallway. It’s probably for the better. She reminds me of a pixie from a book my mom once read to me; a red-headed spirited pixie, who got herself lost in a shroud of weeds and couldn’t get back to her pixie clan. She eventually wandered too far and came across a hungry Bulldog in a family’s back yard. She reached out to pet him and he ate her up in one bite. Oh, how I wish this would happen to Alana too.

         I find my seat at the front of Mrs. Latcher’s class and sit down, pretending not to notice the eyes burning holes into my back. Mrs. Latcher walks in and inconspicuously looks in my direction. I give her an impish grin. I know she is secretly wishing that her laser eyes could spontaneously make me erupt into flames. Too bad I have grown so used to her gaze that it has no effect on me anymore.I’m flame resistant.