Abandoned

Ali gets kicked out of her house by her mother. Where exactly can she go?

    “What do you think, Barry?” I asked my lion.
    He never answered back, but I knew he was surprised. I mean, Bengt had asked me over to his house.
    “What will I wear?” I suddenly asked myself. I dropped Barry and ran to my closet. I had to have on the prettiest, ugly sweater I owned. I wanted to impress Bengt’s parents. Why? I had no idea.
    “Gross,” I said, throwing one to the side, “Yuck! Why do I have this one?” I loved all my ugly sweaters, but some of them made me question myself. I went through all of my sweaters twice before finally landing on my orange Day of the Dead sweater. “It’ll have to do,” I said, setting it aside for the morning.
    “What do you think, Barry?” I asked, holding the sweater out.
    I just knew he was saying something along the lines of, “You look beautiful in anything, Ali.”
    “You are just so sweet, Bengt,” I said before stopping myself, “‘Bengt’?! Why did I say ‘Bengt’?! Barry, I’m so sorry I got your name wrong!”
    Barry must have been so disappointed in me. No doubt he would write a blog about how much he disliked being called the wrong name. No, he wouldn’t write about something like that. He was a good stuffed lion. He was way better than that. He was way better than me.
    I gave him a pet on the head and apologized a few more times before promising a brushing after dinner.
    “Say, why don’t I take you to meet Bengt?” I asked him.
    Barry seemed to be very keen on meeting him. Since I had, unfortunately, been talking about him nonstop, Barry was thrilled to meet him. I hadn’t shown Barry to people since Elementary. After that incident, I had never let anyone see him.
    I had dinner, and shortly after I gave Barry that brushing I had promised. As I brushed his stuffed toy mane, I thought more. Did going over to Bengt’s house make us better friends? I never went over to Mark or Greg’s houses when we were friends. Though I never invited anyone over to my house either.
    Perhaps we could get a better understanding of each other, Bengt and I. We are both special in a way. He is mute, and I’d a mind reader. I’m the only one that can truly know his thoughts. Did he even have secrets?
    Thinking of secrets, I gazed at my bookshelf that had my classmates secrets in them. I needed to update them. It’s a new school year with new people. Those who graduated would be erased and those who are new will be added. I might even update existing ones as well, if the secrets are still relevant. Who knows if their secrets had gotten out over summer.
    Speaking of updating, I hadn’t been listening to people lately. Actually, I haven’t gotten a single secret this year. It wasn’t so much of a problem. I don’t think I will have to do anything drastic like I did last year. The only time it will come in handy is if someone raised a hand at me.
    I gave Barry’s mane one more stroke. I admired his fur and put the brush down.
    “All finished, Barry,” I said to him, “You are the most beautiful lion I have ever seen. All the rest the lions will get jealous if they happen to see you.”
    Barry kept his poker face. He was always so good at that. He was good at that and staring contests.
    I crawled under my covers and immediately fell asleep with Barry in my arms.

…

    I was in a state of panic when I woke up. Barry was not in my arms. Usually that would be okay, I’d just have to look on the floor where I flung him in my sleep. However, he was not on my floor. He was nowhere to be found.
    “Barry!” I shouted, not caring if it was five in the morning, “Where are you?!”
    My heartbeat quickened when I realized he wasn’t in my room. I ran out of my room and into the kitchen. He wasn’t there either. I looked in the cupboards and in the pantry, but there was no stuffed lion to be found.
    I checked the laundry room next. I opened both the washer and dryer, but my efforts came up fruitless. Where could he be?
    Finally, I went outside. The air was chilly, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. I sighed and looked around. I didn’t think I would find him out here. Just as I was about to turn to go back inside, a brown color stuck out in the corner of my eye. I eyed the garbage cans that were to be emptied out today and saw him.
    Barry stuck out of the left garbage can. He gave me eyes of fright and begged me to rescue him. I ran over as quick as I could and plucked him from the bin.
    “Why were you in there?” I asked, hugging him close.
    He remained silent, most likely scared for his life.
    “I’m so happy I found you,” I said with a smile, “Come on. Let’s go get you cleaned up before I head off to school.”
    We went inside and almost immediately I ran into my mother. She raised a brow, and then she sighed as her eyes fell on Barry.
    “Ali, really?” she began, “Aren’t you a little too old for that stuffed lion?”
    “His name is Barry,” I replied, “And I will never be too old for him. Why are you asking this?”
    “I put him in the trash for a reason, Ali,” my mother said.
    I squeezed Barry harder and glared at the one I called my mother. She didn’t deserved to be called such a name. Right now she was just a stranger.
    “Why would you do that?! I love him!”
    “You’ve had him for so long! It’s time for him to go.”
    “And you automatically decide that it is his time?! He’ll go when he is ready to go!”
    “You act like he is real!”
    “He is real!”
    She was getting impatient with me, I could tell. With her brow wrinkled and teeth gritting, she was about to lose her cool. “Ali, you are sixteen years old. It’s time to stop playing with stuffed animals. Put him back in the trash.”
    “No,” I said firmly.
    “Excuse me?” she asked me to repeat myself.
    It wasn’t as if she couldn’t hear me. She just wanted to see if I had the guts to do it a second time. What she didn’t know was that I did have the guts. Barry was going nowhere but to the washer to get himself cleaned up.
    “You heard me,” I started, “Barry is the only one keeping me sane. If he goes, then so do I.”
    By this time, my mother was seething. She made a lunge for Barry, and I did something I thought I’d never do. I hit her. With the back of my hand, I smacked her right across the face. Oh, I was in major trouble now.
    My mother’s face grew cherry red as she screamed, “Get out! Get out and never come back, you little mistake! How dare you hit me!”
    I ran out as fast as I could. She slammed the door behind me, and she most likely locked it. I sighed. I didn’t even have my school stuff. I had to hurry if I wanted it before my mom had time to go upstairs and trash my room. It wasn’t the first time she kicked me out, nor would it be the last.
    I went around the back of the house and climbed the heavy roots on the side of the house. I was always thankful that it was there. Leading straight to my unlocked window, I slid in and softly made my way towards the door. All I had to do was lock it. When I reached the knob, I clicked the lock and heaved a sigh.
    After that, I grabbed my duffel bag and filled it with stuff that I would need. Spare clothes went in first, followed by my blankets and pillow. My laptop and cord were placed on top. I could probably find a café or coffee shop to charge it up at. I got all my valuables and placed them in the pockets.
    It might have sounded stupid, but the last time I left valuables when I was kicked out, they weren’t there when I came back. My mom had pawned them off. This time, I made sure she couldn’t get a cent from my room.
    The knob jiggled and suddenly I heard my mother’s shouts from beyond the door. “I told you to get out, Ali! You have no right to get your stuff!”
    She went on, but I had got out before I could hear the rest. It was always the same.
    I had no idea where I would sleep tonight. Perhaps I could find a nice bridge to shelter myself. I didn’t want to think about it now. I’ll figure it out later.
    I got to the bus stop just fine and hopped on. People were staring at me, but I didn’t care. Okay, I did care a little. I put on my best glare and stayed that way the entire time. When the bus came to a stop, I was the first one off of it.
    I walked onto school with my duffel bag, and everyone was staring. I tired my best to ignore their thoughts. There were definitely a lot of snickers and giggles. They all thought I had been kicked out. Well they were right for once in their miserable lives.
    I walked into my English class and saw Mr. Skylark working on his lesson plan. The bell wouldn’t ring for another half-hour, but here I was.
    “Mr. Skylark?” I called to him.
    The English teacher jumped out of his seat in surprise. He gave me a glare before sitting back down, clearly embarrassed.
    “Why are you so early?” he asked, “Class doesn’t start for another 30 minutes.”
    “Is it alright if I keep my duffel bag in here until the end of the day?”
    He raised a brow to me as he eyed my bag. “What’s in the bag?”
    “Clothes, blankets, and a pillow,” I answered honestly, “I’m not running away from home, if that’s what you are thinking. I got kicked out.”
    His eyes widened and he thought, ‘Perhaps I should tell the Principal about this.’
    “Please don’t tell anyone,” I begged, “I can handle this on my own. Just… please don’t let me carry it around all day.”
    Mr. Skylark heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his short, black hair. “Fine,” he agreed, “but it must be gone as soon as school is done.”
    “Thank you, sir.” I put the duffel bag in the corner behind his desk. No one would go back there other than him, and he already knows what is in it.
    I decided to take my seat because I didn’t really have anywhere else to go. I sat down and stared out the window. In the corner of my eye, I could see Mr. Skylark look over at me every so often. Suddenly, he went blurry.
    I blinked a few times to realize that I was crying. Why would I be crying? It wasn’t like this was the first time I had been kicked out. Actually, it was my third time.
    The first time was when I was fourteen. I had gotten some pretty bad grades that year, and my mom kicked me to the curb. I remember being so scared and sad. I had nowhere to go, so I stayed by the house the entire time. It only took a few hours for my mother to take pity on me and bring me back inside.
    The second time was when I was fifteen. I had sassed my mother, which resulted in being kicked out. I had found out that I could get into my room from the backyard, so I sneaked in and stayed in my room.
    Those times I had stayed close to home. This time, I wanted to get farther away. I was aiming for the other side of town, but I didn’t have to go that far. My mom will realize her mistake within a few hours and look for me. I want to teach her a lesson this time around.
    Still, I kept crying. Maybe it was because it still hurt. Knowing that my mother is angry with me, I can deal with that. Knowing that my mother doesn’t care about me, I can deal with that too. However, knowing that my mom can kick me out without feeling any kind of remorse, that is what I can’t deal with.
    The tears were cascading down my face. I tried my best not to disturb Mr. Skylark with my ugly crying, but I hear him sigh loudly.
    He got up and came towards me with a tissue box. He handed it to me and said, “There is no crying in this classroom. Got it?”
    I nodded and took the tissues. This was the first time he was ever nice to me. He usually picks on me. I felt a little better after crying for a little bit. I stopped as soon as the bell rang. Couldn’t have my classmates thinking I was a crybaby, now could I?
    Per usual, Bengt sat down as soon as the late bell rang. I hid the tissue box so he wouldn’t know I was crying.
    ‘Are you still coming over today?’ he asked me.
    I nodded and saw him smile. Mr. Skylark had started the lesson, and to my surprise, he did not call on me once.

…

    The end of school bell rang, and I rushed off to Mr. Skylark’s class to pick up my duffel bag. I skidded in just as he finished packing his things.
    “Just in time,” he commented, “Your things are where you left them.”
    “Thank you so much, sir,” I said politely as I picked up my duffel bag.
    He gave my shoulder a pat, saying, “Anytime.”
    I sprinted off towards the gates of the school. There I saw Bengt standing next to a bicycle. I halted next to him.
    “A bike,” I said, “You ride a bike to school?”
    ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘Is that strange?’
    “No,” I replied, “But how are the two of us going to fit on this?”
    ‘Well,’ Bengt began, but stopped when he saw my bag, ‘What’s the big bag for?’
    “I’ll tell you later,” I said. I was really hoping he would forget about it.
    ‘Whatever.’ he picked up my bag and attached it to a small container that was on the back of the bike. I thought that was where I was suppose to sit.
    “Where will I sit?” I asked.
    Bengt gave me a smile and patted the handlebars. I froze.
    “There is no way I am sitting on those,” I said, “They are an accident waiting to happen!”
    ‘Ali,’ he persisted, ‘I am a very safe peddler. You won’t die or get hurt. I promise.’
    I grimaced. I really did not want to sit on those handlebars, but I did what I was told. I slid onto the bars, they were so uncomfortable.
    ‘Ready?’ he asked me.
    I nodded, and he began peddling off towards the other side of town. I shifted uncomfortably on the bars a few times. As we passed people, I heard them think things like, ‘What a cute couple’, ‘That is so sweet’, and ‘How adorable’. It took all of my willpower to not scream at these people.
    Bengt and I didn’t even look like a couple. I didn’t even want to ride on the bars. Why was the world picking on me?! I hadn’t noticed how badly I was seething until Bengt spoke to me:
    ‘Are you alright?’
    “I’m fine,” I lied. What was I suppose to do, tell him that a bunch of people think we are a couple? Gross, I couldn’t even think about it.
    ‘We are almost there,’ he said, ‘It’s just a block away.’
    I gazed at the houses and realized that they were all perfect looking. We must have been in the “rich” part of town. I always wanted to live over here, but mom likes to spend her money on stupid things like new cars.
    Bengt pedaled up the driveway of a white and blue two-story home. It looked too perfect and for a second I was kind of scared to meet his family.
    ‘We’re here,’ Bengt got off the bike, ‘Come in and meet my folks.’
    I got off the handlebars and rubbed my sore behind. I grabbed my stuff from the back of his bike and strolled after him. I really want to know what his parents were like.
    Bengt opened the door to his home, and I sucked in a breath. This was going to be a long day.

Author's Note

Next chapter will be the longest one! ^^