Caught in the Middle [A Malcolm in the Middle Fanfic]

Chapter 8

A/N: I haven't abandoned this story, the exact opposite. I'm just working on other stuff and I haven't been inspired but here is the 8th chapter please comment and vote also constructive critisism is encouraged. Also thank you to all of you wonderful readers who've supported this story so far. :)

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I make it through my door exhausted from the long walk home from school. It seemed to take longer than usual, I sigh heavily throwing my bag onto the floor. “Mom,” I call walking into the kitchen expecting to see her there cooking or reading another stupid magazine. The counter and stove are bare of all pots and dishes, to my left I see a note tacked on the white board next to the fridge. I furrow my brow, squinting at the messy cursive writing:

Mellie, your father and I are staying out tonight so you are going to have to take care of yourself. There is some canned ravioli in the cupboard or you can make a sandwich. We also have frozen pizzas. Okie Luv you sweetheart! You be good.

My nose crinkles in disgust as I read the last line hearing the words echo in my head in that sickeningly sweet tone she uses when she feels bad for something. I love my mom and all, but I can’t stand it, “You don’t have to be all gross and guilty Mom geez just go have a good time. But don’t go having more babies,” I exclaim to no one as I crumple the small piece of paper tossing it onto the table and head upstairs; “It’s time to cleanse myself of this crusty food.”

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♫ ‘Here we go again another drink I’m cavin’ in, these stupid words keep falling from my mouth; Woah! Woah! One more drink then I should go Woah! Woah! But maybe she might like me though! Just can’t think of what to say, shuld I go should I stay just can’t let her slip away!… I talk a lot of shit when I’m drinking baby, I normally go a little too fast--’♫

I tap the off button on my shower radio and I head out of my bathroom already dressed in a pair of soft shorts and a plain black t-shirt. Ringing out my hair, I shake it loose, taking one last glance at myself in the mirror. I smile brightly happy to be free of the disgusting food that clung to every surface on my body just an hour before.

I breathe out feeling and hearing my stomach rumble; I bite my lip as my mouth fills with saliva at the thought of pizza and I skip down the stairs to the kitchen. I pour a scoop of dried dog food into Tyson’s bowl, “Right. Food time,” I pause with my hand on the freezer door, “I really need to stop talking to myself.”

I slump down into the dull green couch with a plateful of freshly baked frozen pizza slices, meat-lovers and stare at the TV in front of me flipping through the many channels not taking an interest in any of the potential viewing pleasure. I give up, turn the appliance off, blow my bangs out of my eyes and straighten up. A frustrated sigh flies through the empty air around me. Mom and Dad are gone and, by the sound of it, having a good time. I shudder at the unwanted mental images that pop into my head. I flop onto my side groaning. “They are gonna kill me, Tyson.” I mutter giving Tyson a piece of pizza crust.

Usually my parents are incredibly calm and laid back about stuff. Case in point; one time I was bored so I took all the pillows, mattresses and couch cushions I could find, piled them at the bottom of the tall pine tree in our back yard, building myself a makeshift trampoline. I broke my arm doing that, “They were mad.” I say to Tyson who has his chin resting on my leg. I bite the inside of my cheek thinking about other times I’ve gotten in trouble… not many. I smirk at my own deviousness, “But that doesn’t mean I’m a stuck up goody-goody now does it?” Soon my features fall one of concern. This is a bit more serious though, three days of detention, and I lose my car. I figure this to be the worst thing I’ve ever been caught for.