I've just realized how stupid my username is... all it is is my name and 999! Creative, aren't I?
***
I finish my homework after about 3 hours. Ugh. That's what I get for taking AP classes. I'm so hungry. I look in my fridge and -surprise, surprise- there's hardly anything in there. I take out the peanut butter and grab a spoon. This is the closest thing I'll have to dinner.
Let my explain why my house is shit. My mother got pregnant with me when she was 16. Her boyfriend, who was 7 years older than her, left right away. She never spoke to him again after she told him the news.
My mom dropped out of school. As soon as I was born, the little disaster that I am, my mother's parents took care of me in an effort for my mom to go back to school. That didn't work out very well. She goofed off with some druggie friends and got high. That went on for the first 3 years of my life. Then, my grandpa had a heart attack and died. My grandma raised me as her own for the next 2 years, until she died in a car accident. A reckless driver hit her while she was on her way to pick me up from kindergarten.
Due to all my hospital bills, all the money they left me has basically disappeared. We don't have health insurance, and my mom hasn't worked for years.
"Chantelle, honey, how was school?" my mom asked. When did she get home?
"Fine." I said. "Where've you been?"
"Oh, you know," she sighed. She collapsed onto the couch and opened a can of beer. "Looking for a job."
'Looking for a job' roughly translates into 'buying more beer.' My mom's an alcoholic, if you haven't noticed. She's not the violent type, more of a drink-until-she-passes-out-wherever-she-is, and its my job to make sure she doesn't drown in her own vomit while she's asleep.
It happened to Attila the Hun. If you wanted to know.
"Okay," I slowly said. "I'm going to the store. Need anything?"
"Yeah. Can you get some ketchup?"
"...Just ketchup?'
"Thass wut I sed." Oh great. She hasn't been home for 5 minutes, and already she's slurring.
I groaned. "Thaynksss Dave" she murmured.
Dave's my father. I have never met him, and my grandpa told me I look nothing like him. Or my mother, for that matter.
I have natural silvery blond hair with boring green eyes. My, er... condition..... makes me violently ill sometimes, so I hardly have an appetite, which makes me a size 0. My mom has chestnut color hair, with some gray already in it. She's only 33 but the alcohol makes her look about 15 years older. It's pretty gross.
I walked around the small town for a few minutes until l found a grocery store. I got chips and cookies that were on sale and brought them up to the register. I refuse to get that woman ketchup. She won't even remember my name later.
"CJ?" The red headed girl asked.
"Hey, um, Jen, right?" I smiled.
"Yeah." she smiled back, but looked uneasy. "Is this all?"
I nodded. She scanned them or whatever. "This is kind of embarrassing... But please, please don't tell Missy and everyone that I work here, okay?"
I raised my eyebrow. "Why?"
She swallowed. "Everyone thinks I'm pretty well off. CJ, its so hard to pretend that I am. But my dad got laid off and money's kind of tight. You can understand that, right?" Ugh. Too well. She went on. "And God, Missy would treat me like dirt under her $400 shoe." she scowled.
"Look, I won't tell anyone. It's none of my business." I said.
Jen eyes were wide with relief. "Really? Oh God, thank you so much! I love you CJ!"
I smiled politely. I kind of want to leave now. Before she talks any more in her high pitched voice. Ugh. She's like a Missy clone.
"Jen, I'm going. It's just you, Peter, and Clara here." a voice said behind me. I jumped in surprise and turned around.
I rolled my eyes. Freaking stalker.
Jen gave him a small smile. "Okay. Good night Aaron." He scowled at me once more and left.
I looked at Jen. She shrugged. "Well... I'm going to leave now. Good night." I said.
She waved as I walked out. How did it get so dark out?
It's winter. It gets dark at 5 p.m.
Yeah, well. I knew that.
Sure...
Hey, its not even that cold!
Well you have issues where your always warm. Duh.
Hmm. That is correct. I think I'm book smart, but not street smart.
For instance, if I was street smart, I would have paid attention to the footsteps behind me. I would have ran away screaming once they sped up and got right behind me.
And I wouldn't be thinking about this as someone's heavy hand clamped over my mouth.
