Love is the strongest glue

Chapter one : Bagels

The night sky was sprinkled with stars, the only sound heard for miles was the sound of the crackling fire and the chirps of crickets echoing off of the trees. The air was just starting to get cold and I pulled my blanket close to my chest. If my sister Maya was here she would tell me to come inside. Then I would probably say something like 'humans came from nature and that I would enjoy it as long as I could.' But Maya isn't here, no one is but me and the crickets. All I know is that these moments of silence are better than whatever is happening at home. My parents are probably arguing as the sound of shattering glass bounces off the walls. I left the house two hours ago, and my phone hasn't gotten any panicked messages or calls. They probably haven't even noticed that I am gone yet. I can't bring myself to stand up and drive home, but I have to. I dump a bucket of water on the fire and watch as it sizzles out. I get into the car, roll down the windows, and drive home. As I pull into the driveway, my moment of peace crumbles. Even before I get out of the car, I hear the angry voices of my parents bickering, so I sneak in through the back door (though they probably wouldn't notice if I walked in through the front). I plop onto my bed in a huff, and sink into the comforter.
They say that your room defines your personality, my room is a mess. Clothes thrown everywhere and markers all over my desk. Rushed sketches are thrown on the walls, and books scatter the bookshelf, most of the pages worn down after being read over and over. My closet is somewhat neat, organized by color and type. Then there is my parents room, it is half neat, half messy, each side an opposite personality, just like my parents. Ever since last summer, their room is matching their relationship, broken and in need of a huge intervention. Maya's room was neat, everything organized, and perfect. Too perfect, apparently. It was to mask the truth of her thoughts. After she died, we found journals and search histories that showed the opposite of the girl we once knew.
After about an hour, it became so late that I eventually heard the house, and everyone in it settling. I open my door quietly, and slip into the hallway. The wood creaks and I try my best not to wake up my parents. When I get to the table where we throw our keys, I notice that the keys belonging to my father are not in the dish. My mother was slumped on the couch, under a mass of blankets and used tissues. There are still remains of tears dotted on the rim of her t-shirt, and the broken glass is still in a splatter on the floor. Like clockwork, I grab the broom and carefully pick up the shards. Today's victim was a crystal candelabra, knocked off of the shelf that sat over the fireplace. I sweep it into the dustpan, and will throw it out tomorrow morning. I sit next to my mom and she smiles weakly, clearly tired after yelling for as long as she did. Though after all the yelling her and dad do, I am surprised her lungs aren't stronger. I sit there next to her, until I hear her breathing slow down, and she falls asleep. I lay a blanket over her and kiss her on the forehead. The walls that surround the hallway look bare, the pictures that once lined the walls are now either broken or thrown away. After Maya died, my father tossed any reminder of her out. He pretended she never existed at all, which made my mom even angrier at him.
The clock above the kitchen door chimes twelve, just like everything in this house, it is broken. I check my phone and it says it is only ten fifteen. I spend the rest of my night blasting sad music into my headphones, and finishing up my remaining homework. I had started it before my parents began their argument, and before I decided to take my little roadtrip. After finishing my AP biology homework on The inner workings of the brain, my eyelids start to feel heavy, so I throw on a pair of yoga pants, a big hoodie, and collapse on my bed. The blankets surrounding me provide me with a sense of comfort that I don't get from my family. After a little while, my eyes close and I fall asleep. I dream of dancing with Maya like we used to, as well as when we stayed up late eating ice cream. With her short auburn hair bouncing wildly, and her smile as big as the cheshire cats.
When I wake up I forget for a moment that she is gone. When I do remember, my heart sinks, and a pit drops in my stomach. Just like every other day. I walk down the dark hallway, my father's keys are still gone, my mom still passed out on the couch. I walk quietly up to her, push the hair gently off of her face, and tap her on the shoulder. Her eyes open slowly, and she blinks a couple times, showing off her emerald green eyes.
"What? What time is it?" she asks dreadingly. She carefully sits up, her hair a mix between a beehive and a bird nest falling around to her shoulders.
"Almost seven thirty." I hear her groan as I stand up and go back to my room, the sunlight streaming through the curtains causes my eyes to hurt for a second. I pick a baby blue short sleeved crop top off the floor along with a black leather jacket. I search my closet for a pair of ripped jeans, and I find some in my laundry basket. I put it with the other parts of my ensemble. I add a grey fabric scarf, and a woven bracelet. I throw my homework in my bag and pour myself a cup of coffee on my way out the door.
The school is two miles from my house, but I would rather walk then be stuck in a car with my mom, even if it is for a couple minutes. She would only take that time to trash talk my dad, and act miserable. I decide to take the route that goes through the park and grab a loaded bagel from a food stand. The park is full of people walking their dogs, teens making out, and on the west side, the place where most homeless people hang out during the day. I see a boy with a torn apart bag, he is wearing a brown coat, with a black beanie and dark jeans. He looks hungry and tired so I put my bagel next to him. Most of the homeless kids around here don't get a lot to eat. He looks up at me, amusement in his eyes, and a small smile grows on his face. I smile back, and continue my route to school. Today is the first day back from winter break, and the hall is buzzing with drama, hugs, and of course raging teenage hormones. I pass a group of boys that slam their lockers, in a heated debate about some sort of sports team. Another group of girls are talking about how much they hate their science teacher, and they look at me with slight pity in their eyes.
My homeroom is number 610 Mr. Greenway, he is a middle aged man with graying hair and a laugh that can fill a room. I sit in my regular seat in the back corner. Mr. Greenway comes up to me and gives me a fist bump. Out of all my teachers at this school, he is my favorite. He doesn't treat me like I am a broken bird in need of help, or a damsel in need of saving. The first bell rings, and students stream into the classroom like a swarm of bees, infesting every seat in the class, except for one. The second bell rings just as a kid runs into the room. I look up from the desk, standing there is a boy wearing a brown coat and a black beanie.
"Oh.My.God!" I mean to think it but it slips out, maybe a little too loudly. The class looks at me, so does the boy, he smiles and takes a seat on the opposite side of the classroom.
Homeroom ends and I try to exit the class as quickly as possible, so that I don't have to face the new kid. I make it out into the hall and stay pressed against the lockers as if they are a shield to protect me from the swarm.Then I feel a tap on my shoulder, I turn around and walking behind me is the new kid.
"So, do you always hand out bagels to random people you see in the park?" He asks and I can feel my face getting warm. He looks at me with the same amused smile that he had given me earlier in the park. What am I supposed to answer... Oh, yeah sorry I thought you were homeless. I look down at the floor.
"Ummm, yeah you looked hungry?" I make a small smile.
"Really?" He looked like he didn't believe me.
"I sorta, kinda thought that you were homeless," I say it and try to run away as fast as possible to avoid further embarrassment. But he catches up and stops me, he looks into my eyes, he then continues to say
"Hm, well then. Let's retry this introduction, shall we?" He holds out his hand. "My name is Christian Miller, and I just moved here from Colorado." I take his hand.
"My name is Hazel Brookes, and I am very sorry about earlier." He shakes my hand, then walks into our science class. The people behind my seat are whispering about me and Maya, but I shake it off. We go over the homework, and start learning about the inner workings of the heart. The next classes are the same as usual. By the start of lunch my notebooks are filled with thoughtless doodles and poems. Some of them are actually pretty decent. I sit at the table near the door, so that when lunch is over I don't get trampled getting out. The conversation at the table next to me is between two girls, they are discussing which boy is their newest obsession. Another girl is talking about how tech week has got her tired out of her mind. Christian comes over and sits down.
"Hey bagel girl." he says as he sits down
"You are really holding that over me aren't you?"
"Well you never forget your first time of being given a bagel cause someone thought you were homeless." He has a smirk on his face, and I notice that his eyes are emerald green, with sprinkles of gold. He noticed that I was staring, my face turned red... again.
"Fine."
"Well anyhow, I hope your day is going better then mine." His eyes look beaten down, but he keeps a smile on his face.
"My day is perfect! And all the stares and whispers about my dead sister is just the cherry on top." Shit. Great job you don't even know this person for a day and you are already scaring him off. His expression softens, but doesn't show pity. "Sorry, my day is reasonably good, how about you?" He looks at me and smiles