8 Months and 12 Days

Ruby- Age 10

Ruby- Age 10

No. Not again. Mitchell walked down the bus aisle toward me, and I ducked. Lucky for me, he wasn't going for me this time. Instead he went for Luke. Luke was tall, and thin as paper. Kids swore they could see through him if he stood in front of a light. Luke was not my enemy, but he was definitely not my friend.

I didn't have many friends.

Except for Beth.

I had known Beth practically since birth, and she knew all about my problems.

All my problems.

Nothing Beth knew was not shared with me, and every thought I had Beth knew.

We were just those kind of friends.

I looked over to see Mitchell leaning over Luke, scruffing Luke's head and poking him in the side. Luke's carefully ironed striped shirt was becoming wrinkled, and I felt the sharp breath of pain in my side I always did when I watched him being bullied. Standing up for Luke was the same as signing my name on an assassins kill list, but not standing up for Luke was the same as signing my name on an assassins kill list.

"Your mommas so fat, when she walked past the window, it was dark for three days!" Mitchell exclaimed, pointing and laughing at Luke.

Kids snickered in response and prodded Luke in the side. He looked over at me and we exchanged the pain glance, which was exactly what it was. Luke's big green orbs of eyes were like looking into a pool of crystal water, with huge green rings placed perfectly in the center. All the help I ever offered him was that glance, and that's all he had ever offered me.

Dang it. I thought as Mitchell caught my glance meant for Luke. He smirked, and walked across the aisle to me.

Please be my stop next. Pleaseeee. I prayed.

Mitchell came and sat down next to me, copying my hunched over posture. I turned to look at the window, and he did the same. I looked down at my feet, and he did the same.

How annoying was this butthead?

Just then he poked me in the side, and I let out a little yelp.

"Mitchell, stop!" I yelled.

Poop.

I was dead.

Why was it physically impossible for me to think before I spoke?

Why couldn't I jus

SLAM

My head hit the window and my face was being stung by little yellow bees buzzing on my cheek, their little serrated needles never quite breaking the skin. The right side of my face was probably a deep shade of crimson, and I turned to Mitchell who sat laughing next me.

"Come on Ruby, it was just a little slap!" He said, cracking up.

At this point, my eyes could have served as wells in a third world country, supplying water for hundreds of people.

The bus halted and I pushed past Mitchell to get off, too embarrassed and ashamed to look back at the mustard colored death trap known as the public school bus. As I was walking, I couldn't help but notice the shiny black car that rolled past me. Despite its dark color, the car was like a neon light in a dark room in contrast to my neighborhood. My neighborhood wasn't exactly what you'd call ghetto, just completely rundown. The people who lived here were either drug addicts, poor, drunks, poor drug addicts, poor drunks, or poor old drug addicts.

Yup.

I loved my neighborhood.

Not one yard had been tended to since the 80's, because nobody cared. The street was a monstrous jungle. Trees lined the broken pavement, bending and stretching toward the sun. Flowers and weeds grew as tall as a basketball player, and stray cats roamed about the wildness of it all, pretending to be fearsome leopards and panthers. My yard completed the jungle look, the tree that sat in front of it was like a trophy in terms of trees. The trunk was like the arm of a giant; thick and muscly. Branches crept out from the trunk at all angles, and they lined the trunk from top to bottom, so climbing the tree was like walking up it.

I made it to the end of the street where my house sat with the glorious tree, and made my way to the path that I had created over the years. I could already smell the smoke from outside; that familiar smell of cigarettes and other various things my mother considered necessities. I sat down on the porch step to gather my bearings before I had to go inside and face my parents. Chester, a poofy grey cat came and rubbed on my legs, a signal of his need for food. I tilted my head up to the dark sky, wishing for the millionth time that I had a different life, a better life. A life that didn't involve the things it did.

I got up and walked inside, shutting the door as silently as I could. I went to my small, musty room and threw my backpack on the floor. I went to the kitchen to see if just maybe there would be a dinner tonight, but all that there was was an old can of powdered milk.

Well, at least Chester could have dinner.

"Get some noodles from the market." My mother said, coming around the corner.

Steal some noodles from the market.

"And while you're at it, pick up some candy too."

And while you're at it, steal some candy, or you'll be up against your father when you get back.

It was my parents signature tradition to eat large amounts of red licorice and get high every Wednesday night, and I will never know why.

"Okay. Whatever." I replied.

"Go outside and make yourself useful before I slap the daylights out of you. I don't want to hear that tone used with me again, understand?" The woman yelled.

Her mousy hair was ratted and knotted, and her face had the appearance that someone had once tried to dangle from her chin, causing her face to droop downward. She hadn't always looked like this, she had once been a beautiful young woman with strong ambitions. She had paved her way to the top of the world, but one awkward, unexpected, encounter with marijuana destroyed everything. She became addicted, extremely quickly, and all her hard earned money melted and reformed to fit her addiction needs.

I grabbed a dish of water and stomped outside, clicking my tongue to alert Chester over.

"Here you go." I said, placing the dish at my feet.

Meow.

I reached up to touch my sore face, and realized that I was crying. I wiped my eyes and headed over to the tree. I climbed up to about mid way, then stopped to look out over my pitiful kingdom, and noticed the black car again, this time driving towards my house. I squinted, trying to get a better look at the person inside that beautiful sleek car, like midnight on wheels. I could only make out their knuckles on the steering wheel, so I waited until they approached further.

That was the first time I ever saw the man.