Black Diamonds and Silver Hearts

C H A P T E R - 2

Edit: Refer to Chapter One. Changed pov from third to first.

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|June|

Daylight had faded into a dusky canvas of oranges and yellows by the time I stepped foot on a neatly trimmed lawn, its sprinklers spraying a hazy mist of water. Following the sidewalk, I walked toward a tall building with three floors, wide windows, and white shutters. The place sat like a gigantic red brick stuffed between two blocks of concrete. A short set of stairs lead up to the townhouse and I didn't bother knocking. I pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer where shoes littered the floor in a colorful heap.

Kicking off my sneakers I could smell pizza coming from the kitchen and trailed after the scent. Passing through the dining room I saw piles of dirty paper plates, used paper towels, and an empty box of pizza. I frowned, hoping that wasn't all that remained.

Reaching the threshold to the kitchen one of my housemates whizzed past me, almost pushing me aside.

"Watch where you're going Damien," I scolded him. He stopped in his tracks and turned around with his cheeks sticking out like one of the pufferfishes I saw at the aquarium.

"My bad," he said with his mouth full. "By the way, there's no more pizza."

"Oh, yeah? And none of you guys thought to save me some?" I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. A tower of empty pizza boxes sat a few feet behind me.

Damien looked sheepishly at the floor. The red undertones of his tawny skin deepened three shades as he blushed. "I thought you already ate," he murmured.

I shook my head. "I just got back home, I forgot I had a Math test to retake today after school." Ugh, math. The eternal bane of my existence.

"Oh..." he looked at his plate and back at me. "I guess, you can have a slice...or two." Damien tentatively held his plate out.

I smiled and took a slice of pepperoni for myself. Out of all the teenagers in the group home, Damien had the kindest heart, despite being handed the short stick in life like everyone else here. I hoped he'd stay that way and not let life bring him down as it did for some of my housemates.

"Thanks, kid." I patted his head and a bright smile lit up his face before he left to watch cartoons with the others in the living room. My slice of pizza didn't last for more than five minutes as I devoured it in two.

My stomach rumbled loudly and demanded more. I avoided the fridge knowing it'd be full of goopy leftovers and hoisted myself onto the counter. Getting on my knees I reached the top shelf where Ms. Mitchell, the caretaker in charge, kept the junk food and soda hidden from the younger teens. I slipped a can of Sprite in my sweatshirt pocket before grabbing a bag of Doritos and stuffing it into my shirt. My stomach looked a little bigger than it did before and made odd sounds as I tried to sneak past the living room. The plastic crinkling and crunching with the movement.

Luckily, nobody looked my way. I rushed up two flights of stairs to get to my room on the last floor and closed the door behind me. We're not exactly allowed to have food in our rooms, but what Ms. Mitchell doesn't know won't hurt her. I pulled out the bag of chips and set it by my computer—an old model that lacked a mic or webcam. It took me three summers to save up enough money to buy it. There was one downstairs and sharing it between the eight of us was hard. We'd go to war over it every other day except now that I have my own, I no longer had to wrestle with a bunch of teenagers to use the Internet. Pulling out the soda, I pop the tab and take a sip from it before sitting down into my chair to log into 'Pixelchat.'