Little Town. New boy.

Chapter 5

"I'm starting to doubt he's real" Sarah huffed beside me. I told her about Harry, and how he offered me a ride home.
"He'll be here" I scoffed, "speak of the devil" I straightened my back up as the tall curly haired boy walked through the doorway, making his way straight to me with a smile on his face.
"Hey brooke"
"Hey" I acted surprised to see him. I saw his eyes move to Sarah who just sat there with a puzzled look on her face.
"Oh um, Harry this is my best friend Sarah. Sarah this is Harry" I introduced them to each other and they both smiled. I was surprised that Sarah didn't pipe up, she was always like that with boys but she continued to hold a confused look on her face.
"I'm gonna go talk to Hannah" she smirked at me and took her books back to one of the girls obviously giving the seat to Harry beside me, which he kindly took.
"You haven't really told me about yourself" Harry spoke up.
"I don't know what you to know"
"Anything" he smiled.
"I live in a big White House on the corner with my mom and dad, along with our dog; Sadie. My mother bakes amazing Apple pie every Sunday for our community church, and growing up I never knew what a 'divorce' was since my parents got along so well" I stared at him for a moment before he tilted his head slightly.
"I'm gonna note the major sarcasm"
"That's a good idea" I smirked.
****
"What the hell was that" Sarah grabbed my arm as we made our way back towards my locker.
"What are you on about?" I questioned.
"You. Curly head?"
"What about 'us'?" I scoffed.
"No guy has ever made my best friend giggle like a little school girl and can we talk about how weird it felt to be the introduced and not the introducer?" I laughed at her, pulling my hair back into a loose ponytail and taking out my sketch book.
"Calm down. I'm still the bad ass brooke" I slapped her in the butt, getting weird looks from passer by's as we killed our selves laughing.
"Okay, okay . I'll see you later "bad ass Brooke" I waved back to her, making my way to the beloved art class.
****
I put on my music, picked up the paint brush and started at my wall mural.
I cranked up the volume as one of my favourite songs came on,
"My lover's got humour
She's the giggle at a funeral
Knows everybody's disapproval
I should've worshipped her sooner

If the heavens ever did speak
She's the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday's getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week

'We were born sick, ' you heard them say it

My Church offers no absolutes
She tells me, 'Worship in the bedroom.'
The only heaven I'll be sent to
Is when I'm alone with you-"
before I could sing the chorus i heard the front door downstairs open with a loud crash.
I threw my brush down and ran only to be met by my mother stumbling through the door with a beer bottle in her hand, mumbling words to her self. I slowly made my way down the steps to be on the same level as her, keeping my distance knowing that her mood can go from 0 to 100 real quick.
"Mom" I spoke quietly but it still startled her in the dimly lighted hallway we stood in.
"What the hell do you want" she scoffed. I never knew it was possible to hold no emotion in your face but still have anger in your eyes until I witnessed my mother drunk for the first time. In a drop of a dime, her mood turned from anger, to rage. She lashed out towards we, throwing the beer bottle at my head and stumbling over her own feet, falling to the ground with a thud. Thankfully, I dodged the bottle, allowing it to smash into the wall behind me and shattered into hundreds of little pieces.
My mother groaned on the floor in pain before she was passed out sleeping by my feet .
The water stinged my fresh cuts after cleaning up the glass and wiping up the leftover liquid from the bottle that was once in my mothers hand. I wrapped my arm around her, picking her limp body up off the ground and dragged her up the stairs into her bedroom. I placed her in her bed and shut the door, by the morning she wouldn't know what happened.
I remember not so long ago, watching my dad clean up the mess she left behind on the nights that were late as I stood on the top stair crying or burying my face in my pillow as I listened to them argue.
I made a commitment to myself that I would never be that way, I would never be like my mom, or my dad for that matter.