What He Did

Chapter Five

Two months have gone by, and it hasn't gotten any easier. I think about that night day in and day out. Steph only talks to me in class, but we don't hang out outside of school. It's obvious who she believes. Mom constantly trashes Steph because I told her I had a falling out with the boys, and she's noticed Steph hasn't been coming by the house. After all of the sleep overs and spending every possible waking moment together, I would have bet Steph was my friend, but I guess she would rather have the party hook up than be my friend. And people wonder why I have trust issues.

I don't want to seem like the type that bitches and moans about everything and blames all of her problems on others, but in this case, I feel I need to do a little of all three. You see, trust is really hard to come by when you've lived a life of being mislead every day and living in a environment like I had. I thought I had a perfect family. School stud every girl wants meets darling blond beauty in highschool, they fall in love, graduate, girl ends up pregnant, they get married, have bouncing curly haired son, girl goes to college, they end up pregnant with a big brown eyed rosy cheeked girl, and live happily ever after with the two kids and the German Shepherd in the big white house with the picket fence. Take vacations during the summer, eat every meal at the table together. Yeah, I know, vometrocious, right? I was naive. About the time I turned eight, everything changed. I didn't figure out why until I was thirteen, but when I finally did, it took my breath away. Who would've thought that knocking over a little knick knack would lead to my discovery of my dad's biggest secret? The funniest part was when I was packing to leave. Mom immediately threw him under the bus to try and make me stay. Ha, who was she kidding? Dear old daddy dearest left a long time ago. Meth will do that to you. It eats away at you, until the only thing that's left is a little monster with a mean streak and a neverending appetite of sin. I noticed the change in my idol instantly. I knew him the best out of anyone, and the moment he started using, I knew it. He was so mean, and he had strange men in and out of the house all hours of the night, which made me uneasy. I was so nervous someone was going to get me that I wouldn't sleep out of fear, and I'd be tired at school the next day. Long story short, my trust is no easy thing to gain. And my so called friends weren't doing a very good job winning it, not that it seemed like they cared anymore.

I'm pretty sure I shouldn't really be a spokesperson for trust though. Since Steph hasn't been coming around, and she pawned my nicotine addiction, I've had to find a new way to get my fix, which has been making me fiend for nicotine out of stress and boredom. So, when Mom's out of the house, I've been smoking one cigarette, trying to make my pack last. Over the last few months, I've snuck in my fair share of tobacco products into the house. Steph had taught me to stick a pack of cigarettes under the wire part in my bra so that it sits against my ribs in between my cleavage. Easy sneak in. My having big breasts helped this alot: plenty of room to hide the stuff, and if anyone looked and noticed anything I could say they needed to quit staring at my chest. Fool proof. Doing this quite a few times over the last few months has landed several Black N Mild cigars and a pack and a half of cigarettes into my underwear drawer. No one ever comes in my room so it wasn't all that hard to hide them. I do my own laundry and when Mom does do it, she just leaves it in the living room and I put it up. Of course, being out of the loop for awhile and the amount of stress I've been under, my stash has desecrated tremendously, but I've been sneaking some of Mom's when she hasn't been looking. She smokes a pack down to about.. three cigarettes give or take a few and leaves them all over the house and starts a new pack to take with her to the bar, making my stealing them very easy. The things you do for a little cigarette though. I dread the day I have to start digging butts out of the trash to get that little fix. I've had to do it before, which is why I have the stash now.

My mother is out at the bar in another town about twenty miles from here, giving me the whole house to myself for the night. She usually doesn't come home until about five in the morning. I usually sit out on the front porch and smoke so that none of the rooms in the house smell like fresh smoke when she gets home, and I also just like to look at traffic whizzing by. Our house is in a small culdesac right in the middle of town, so everyone drives by, but no one drives down the actual street I'm on unless they live here. I used to always feel like my house was in the middle of everything, making me in the midst of everything, but now, it's taunting me, making me watch my friends from school driving by on the drag and making me remember that I no longer have any friends. A tear rolls down my face when this dawns on me, and I whisk it away with a quick exhale of smoke and a fast swipe of my sweatshirt sleeve. I thought this time I had picked some friends that would stick around.

MONDAY MORNING

Mom drops me off and tells me that I have to walk home from school. No surprise there. I walk home every day, so I don't see why she makes a point of telling me. I pull open the double doors and step inside, the fluorescent lights hitting my face and look around. Steph is over by all the guys that we hang out with in an alcove and everyone else is spread out in the foyer. I make my way to a piece of unclaimed wall and pull out a book. Midway through a paragraph, I feel someone staring at me. I look over and see Dylan and Steph talking and then look over at me with the other guys. My face instantly flames up and I duck my head back to my book. Then a thought creeps into my mind. Why am I making myself alone? I'M the only one that can change my situation. I make a decision in my head and look up. They're still looking at me, but I return the stare, raise my chin in their direction, and then put my book up and walk to a different part of the foyer, making sure to keep clear of them. I'm not standing there anymore and letting them talk shit about me.

SPANISH CLASS

I walk into Spanish and sit down in my usual seat and begin making conversation with Darren, my friend that is also in my Guitar class. We begin talking about the classical song we have been learning, and then I hear someone cough. I look over and Steph is sitting in her usual seat watching me. I just look at her and continue my conversation with Darren. If she can't be my friend outside of school, she doesn't get to be my friend during class either. Ms. B started class soon after, and Steph seemed a little hurt that I wasn't talking to her. Whatever. She doesn't know what hurt is.

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