As soon as I got home I was beaten. My father threw me around the room like usual, not stopping until I almost blacked out. I trudged back to my room once he was done, soothing the damage that he had done.
I hadn't talked to Ryder or Ace since the day I lashed out on them. I wasn't planning to either, not unless he dragged me over to do the project. I knew that day was sure to come soon, considering today was Friday. I had a weekend of peace, but once Monday came, I was sure to be dead meat.
I awoke the next day feeling quite a bit sore. Weekends were always a good time to escape my dad. He always left early in the morning, not coming home until around 9, and by then I pretended to be asleep, so I was good.
I showered and brushed my teeth, changing into some sweatpants and a T-shirt-considering I was home alone. Stuffing some boots onto my fuzzy sock covered feet, I lightly climbed downstairs, enjoying the quietness. I had the time to make myself a batch of banana pancakes, pouring some syrup all over it once they were ready.
With a glass of milk ready to go, I headed back up to my room. I took out a small fold-up table from under my bed, setting my plate and glass on top of it. I lazily flipped through the channels on my TV, settling for an episode of Looney Tunes.
I ate my pancakes in a daze, enjoying the taste. I laughed as Daffy got shot by a bunch of hunters. "Who wrote this stupid script?" Daffy demanded. The screen then showed Bugs in a directors suit, "I'd love to tell him, but modesty opposes." I giggled to myself, shaking my head as I finished my pancakes.
I drank what was left of my milk, quickly taking the dishes downstairs. Once I was back in my room, I spent the rest of the day sleeping and watching TV.
That was pretty much how most of my weekends-just like this one-went.
By the time Monday rolled around, I felt as free as a bird. My bruises still hurt when they came in contact with something, but they didn't restrain me when I wanted to do something active. So I was able to practically skip to my 1st period without grumbling profanities. "Good morning Mrs. Simoine," I greeted the teacher. She looked a bit surprised, but smiled at me nonetheless.
"Morning miss Jones. Take your seat, before the bell rings," she warned me. I nodded my head. I was one of the first few people there, so we still had a few minutes.
I tilted my head as I asked her from my seat, "What are we doing today, by the way?"
She smiled, "I've decided to let you work on your projects today. I was too tired this morning to decide on what to teach." I frowned as she responded, watching as students began to pile in.
"Couldn't you have just made us copy standards?" I grumbled.
I heard a hiss come from behind me, "Don't give her any ideas Jones," Stacy muttered.
I sighed as the bell rung, signaling the start of class. I felt a bit of hope build up as I happened to notice Ryder was missing.
I stayed quiet as the teacher explained the assignment, not surprised at the choruses of joy that spread throughout the class. Once she let us pair up, I walked over to her desk.
"Mrs. Simoine?" I asked. She looked up from her papers, fixing her glasses as they slightly slid from her face.
"Yes Ms. Jones?"
I pointed over to Ryder's empty desk, "My partner is absent, mind if I work on it alone?" She nodded her head, waving her hand in dismissal. I smiled as I walked back to my desk.
Looks like I'm reading today. No work to be done. I read in peace for the entire period, jumping slightly as the bell rang. I placed my book back in my bag, and continued with the rest of my day. Ace wasn't in school either, I realized as the day dragged on. I shrugged it off, not really caring.
YOU ARE READING
The Beastie and his Princess
Teen FictionRylie Jones used to believe in fairy tales. That was when she still had a mother, and a loving father. But the day her mother died caught up in a gang shooting and her father took on drinking, her world crashed. Now, with an abusive cop as a father...