Silence.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I didn’t go to school today; sleep was a struggle during the night. So I’m just going to watch a reality TV show, you know, maybe Keeping up With the Kardashians. That’s all I need to cheer up, a reality TV show. Well, no, I don’t have those types of channels; but if I did, I would never watch those kinds of shows. NEVER!

So I watch old sitcoms. I admire the story lines. They seem so pure. I also admire how pretty Sally Field was; she kind of reminds me of a Selena Gomez.

I’m not all well. I stay in my sweats all day – hugging a pillow, pretending it’s my deceased mother. Nothing to do. Nothing.

****

It’s around 6:00 p.m., and I wake up to the noise of my father entering the room.

“Good nap?” he asks

“Yeah, if you count crying yourself to sleep a nap,” I reply

“Well, you know, in my book, a nap is a cure for everything.” He takes mac and cheese out of the pantry “Want some?”

“Sure. Hey, did you hear about what happened a few neighborhoods down?” Before I go on, let me explain. A few neighborhoods down is filled with a bunch of kids who go to a private school called Mighty Banks (yeah it sounds cheesy). The kids there are too proud of themselves. I almost went there, well until… you kind of know. About a block from my house is where most of the rich kids live, and they are not all popular. Ryan lives there, and I used to as well. You get no details as to why we moved. And then there’s my neighborhood – the poor one with smaller houses and all the just above poverty families.

I live in a two story house. The first story has three small rooms that connect and a small bathroom. The upstairs has three rooms and a bathroom, slightly larger than the downstairs one. It’s not the smallest house in the world, but it’s hard to keep up with the bills.

Back to the conversation, my dad is speaking. “Of course! Those bullies took it way too far.” He starts to boil the water.

“I know! I’m so glad I don’t go to that school. I’d probably be a victim.” I grab a coke from the fridge.

“You! A Victim! No one would even dare touch your pretty little face!” my dad says in a sarcastic voice while putting the mac in the pan “So are you and Ryan Monday at a truce?”

“What?” I question clenching my fists “No! She’s no good.” I sit down feeling, for some unknown reason, a little embarrassed.

“No good? It seems like yesterday it was very good.”

“No. I’m going to bed,” I say while ascending the stairs.

“What about dinner!” he yells.

“I’m not hungry!” I yell back.

****

It’s Friday, two days after my mom’s funeral. I’m back at school regardless of how I feel. Regardless of how scared and frustrated I am, all toward Ryan. Just regardless of everything, everything that seems wrong.

Well, not everything. My friend Zeke is back from visiting his family in Barbados. You could say he came back tan, but that would be a lie because very tan is his natural skin tone. When he had first moved here four years ago, nobody befriended him. At first I thought I could see why; he cursed and muttered everything under his breath. But then I got stuck doing a project with him (the project was based on one of my favorite topics, WWII) and we became friends. He’s a really great artist. His art work can tell the most amazing stories with just pictures.