No Title (yet)

A terrible accident turns Spencer Caldwell's life upside down. Can he handle a new house, new school, new family, all while trying to deal with the loss of his parents and separation from his sister?

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the cold nothingness that was my room. Everything was white. The walls were sickening to behold; their white paint job done to perfection. My bed, sheets, quilt, and pillow were so pristinely white that I was almost afraid to touch them. The carpet was white and seemed as if nothing had walked on it. The window-seat was white; and the bay window didn’t have a mark on it. Not a finger-print, not even a single streak from the window cleaner. Not even the view outside provided any variation to the color scheme. The sky was a gray mass of clouds that swirled and eddied to the wind’s desires.

I looked into the mirror that hung on one wall and felt like a blob of misplaced paint on a blank canvas. My dark, wavy hair stood out in different directions as usual. My worn blue jeans sagged, no matter how much I tightened my belt. And then, of course, my bright orange windbreaker stood out the most against the stark background. I felt lost and alone.

My aunt came and tapped her fingers on the open door. I hadn’t really met her before, that is until my parent’s funeral. Now I was living in her house, eating her food, wasting her gas. Even though she would never admit to it, I knew that she resented me for it. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she stood, and in the way she talked to me.

“What do you think of the room?” She asked me, although she really didn’t sound interested in my opinion at all.

I just shrugged my shoulders “Fine, I guess.” I mumbled to the floor.

“Spencer.” My aunt said crisply “I don’t know exactly how my brother raised you, but here, when you are spoken too, you will look the person in the eye and enunciate clearly. Is that understood?”

I begrudgingly lifted my eyes up to hers. “Yes.” Was all I said, with as much clearness as possible.

“Thank you. Dinner’s at six.” With that, she left. That was it. No ‘How are you doing?’ or ‘Do you need to talk?’ or ‘How are you handling your parents’ deaths?’ Just ‘Dinner’s at six.’ My dog would’ve been more compassionate than that; that is, if I had a dog.

I slumped down onto my new bed; rumpling the clean covers. I could hear my younger cousins tromping around downstairs; their small, whiny voices penetrating through the thin floor. However much my aunt resented me, she loved and doted on her own children ten times more. I don’t think they’d ever heard the word ‘no’, much less had it used against their wishes. Loud screaming floated up to my ears as pots and pans crashed in the kitchen. I heard the tinkling of broken glass as one of the kids threw one of my Aunt’s precious porcelain figures to the ground in a fit of rage.

I sighed and checked my watch. 5:45. Did I really want to go down there into the chaos? My stomach rumbled; making the decision for me. I groaned and trudged down the stairs, the boards creaking in protest. I was amazed that I could hear them over the din downstairs. The aroma of burnt fish wafted up the stairs, and I suddenly second-guessed my judgment in coming down to eat. I could always sneak down later to make a piece of toast, right? But then again, my Aunt was probably one of those people that locked up the cupboards and fridge after mealtimes. I hated not really knowing what kind of house I had come into.

Just as I was going to retreat back up the stairs into the sane, though painfully sterile, recesses of my room, one of the rowdy kids spotted me hovering on the stairs. She froze and stared at me with wide blue eyes as if I were an alien from mars. Her siblings gathered around her and stared at me with the same distrustful glare.

The lack of noise had worried my Aunt, so she came into the room to investigate.

“Oh.” She said coldly “You’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence have you?”

I nodded sullenly.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a minute.

“You’re fish is burning.” I told my Aunt.

“Oh, gracious!” she exclaimed “That’ll be the chicken!” She hustled out of the hallway, her children following her like baby ducklings after their mother.

I grimaced. I was pretty sure that chicken wasn’t supposed to smell like that.

Once my Aunt had gotten the food situation somewhat under control, we gathered around the dinner table. My Uncle had left my Aunt six months before I arrived; so it was just me, my Aunt, and her six kids. Honestly, I couldn’t blame my Uncle for leaving. I would’ve probably done the same thing if I were in his shoes.

As soon as the blessing on the food was said, all heck broke loose as the kids scrambled around at the food that sat in the center of the table; pushing and shoving and throwing food at each other rather than eating it. I barely managed to skewer a small chicken breast, and immediately lamented there not being a smaller one. The whole entire outside was charcoal black, and I dreaded to think what it tasted like on the inside.

As the other kids stuffed their faces and made a general mess of themselves, I quietly picked at my food and stared despondently at my surroundings as I tried to drown out the noise. The dining room and kitchen area was attached to the living room, so the décor all pretty much ran together. The color scheme of the kitchen was a putrid yellow color with stylized roosters and pigs adorning the shelves. Snot-green (crude, I know, but it’s accurate) couches sat like lumpy, sickly toads in the family room in front of a large flat-screen TV. The dining room was pastel pink, and all of the colors running together made me want to vomit; and I quickly became grateful that my Aunt hadn’t painted my room anything worse than white. The clock tick-tocked as I sat at the table with my food untouched; counting down the seconds until I completely lost my sanity.

“Spencer, don’t slouch! Sit up and eat your dinner.” My Aunt’s critical voice broke through my thoughts.

I held back my grimace and tentatively lifted the burnt chicken to my mouth. It took all of my will-power not to spit it out right then and there. Not only had my Aunt burnt it, but she had added the most revolting combination of spices and marinades as to make the most starving person in a third-world country turn it down. I choked down as much as I could; knowing that I’d probably throw it back up in the middle of the night.

“May I be excused?” I finally asked shakily, trying to keep my gag reflexes at bay.

My Aunt sighed “I suppose. Rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher.”

I couldn’t get away fast enough. My plate was rinsed in record time and I dashed up to my room; closing the door behind me. I slid down the door and sat on the floor; my knees pulled up to my chest. I rubbed my eyes tiredly. I hadn’t cried once since I learned about the incident that killed my parents. They had been driving home from a trip to Mexico, and had been caught in the middle of a gang war.

My thirteen-year-old sister had bawled her eyes out, and I was the one that was there hugging her, comforting her. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about my parents that I didn’t cry; it was because I did. I knew that they wanted me to be strong for my sister; so that’s what I was. Even when Social Services took her away from me and placed her in a different home, I was still strong. I even smiled and waved at her before we were driven off in separate cars. That was about a month and a half ago. I had been bounced back and forth from home to home until I had finally landed here.

I’m sure that any self-respecting shrink would’ve told me that ‘holding back your emotions stunts the grieving process’ or ‘it’s not good for you to keep all of your emotions jumbled up inside; eventually, they could all explode out at once and who knows what will happen?’. Whatever; I didn’t care what those weirdoes thought. I was going to control my emotions in my own way.

Normally, with the way I was feeling at this precise moment- depressed, tired, aggravated -I would’ve gone to talk with my sister. Despite all the complaining and moaning I shared with my friends about my ‘kid sister’, we were actually pretty close. I would always go to her with my problems, and she would come to me with hers.  It was a win-win situation for both of us.  Now, however, I couldn’t do that. My Aunt had made it clear that she didn’t want me talking to my sister, Morgan. She said that the lack of communication would help make it a cleaner break-off, without the moaning and the sobbing and the unrealistic longing to be with each other. Didn’t my Aunt realize that we needed that contact to survive? That we needed it to cope and settle into our new circumstances? It made me wonder if maybe the reason I had hardly known my Aunt was because she and my dad had had bad memories together as kids.

A knock on the door burst through my thoughts. I hastily wiped at the threatening moistness that had come to my eyes- I couldn’t break my ‘no crying’ record now "and opened the door. Speak of the devil; there was my Aunt. Her arms were folded and she leaned languidly against the doorway. I had once been told that she had been a model before she got married, and you could still see traces of that- I gag every time I say it, but I know I need to be accurate "beauty. Golden tresses of hair flowed down her back in rivers of silk. Her blue eyes were dazzling and, even after having six kids, her figure was perfect. The things that made her ugly, to me anyway, were on the inside. Her eyes held no warmth for me, and just by her look I could tell that whatever happened that even remotely involved me, she would deal with it in a cold, heartless, pitiless way.

She stood and stared at me with those soulless eyes before saying “Here.” She thrust me an old, worn out alarm clock. I stared at it blankly. What did she want me to do with this?

As if reading my thoughts, for the first time I might add, she answered “You’ll need to set it. School starts at 7:30 tomorrow, and I will not tolerate you being late.”

I looked at her quizzically “Um… I don’t have any…”

She cut me off “All of your school supplies are waiting for you at the school. I talked to the teachers about your situation, and they pooled together some of their funds and bought you everything you need.”

I just stood there for a minute. OK, that wasn’t too bad. “What classes am I taking?”

“Biology, Geometry, English II… All the basics.” She made it sound as if were completely obvious.

I curbed the urge to roll my eyes. “I meant, what electives am I taking?”

“Don’t talk back to me young man!” She snapped. I waited for a minute; knowing that she’d eventually have to answer. She did “You’re taking Choir, Home Economics, and Advanced PE.”

My eyes widened in horror “But, but… I don’t sing! Home Ec. is for girls, and I took PE last year! If I take those classes, I’m going to look like the wimp of the century!”

“But I’ve been told that you have a beautiful singing voice.” My Aunt argued.

“Well, maybe, I don’t know. But I only sing by myself when I play on the guitar; and I definitely don’t sing in front of an audience.”

“Well, that’s too bad. You’re doing choir anyway. And as for Home Ec.; it really wouldn’t hurt you to learn how to take care of yourself. There aren’t always going to be people to look after you.”

I huffed furiously and was about to tell her that mom and dad had already taught me how to cook and clean and sew; but she cut me off before I could. “And how could you have already taken PE? You’re only a freshman.”

“Age-wise, yes, I’m a freshman. But I skipped Second Grade, so I’m a year ahead. That’s why I’m taking Biology and Geometry; those are sophomore classes. That’s how I’ve already taken PE. Besides that, I was the most un-athletic person in that class; and that was just plain old PE. But advanced PE? The only people that sign up for that are jocks or people that work out every day, all day. I’m gonna get creamed!”

My Aunt’s face hardened. I could tell that she was done with this conversation “It’s too late now. If you had helped me out a little bit and told me what you wanted to take, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But, since there’s nothing we can do about it now, I expect you to be the best student in each class as you can be. If I hear that you’re slacking off, there are going to be some severe consequences, do you hear me?”

“More severe than these?” I muttered under my breath.

My Aunt didn’t hear me, but continued on with her tirade. “I will not tolerate delinquents in this house-hold, do you understand? I don’t want you to set a bad example for my precious angels.”

Hah, angels? That’s a laugh.

My Aunt stared at me for a minute, her eyes burning holes into mine. Finally she turned on her heel, her hair almost whipping me in the face, and stalked away. I didn’t get why she was so mad at me; it wasn’t as if she had told me she was signing me up for school or asked me what classes I wanted to take.

I sighed and plugged in the battered alarm clock. Where was Morgan when I needed her?

*             *             *

At 6:45 a.m., the ancient alarm clock blared like a dying cow. I started awake and fell out of bed with a crash.

“Oww.” I moaned. Despite the soft appearance of the white carpet, it had definitely done nothing to deaden my fall. I gingerly picked myself up off the floor and rubbed my aching neck. The pillow that my Aunt had given me was about as useful as piece of paper; and now I had a crick in my neck to prove it. I shivered slightly as the cold morning air hit me, and I slipped some socks on before going downstairs to find some food.

My Aunt was already downstairs cooking breakfast for her kids, and the scent reminded me of last night’s chicken. I wondered if she used the same marinade for all of her cooking.

None of my cousins were up yet, their school didn’t start until 8:30, and I was grateful for the lack of noise. I hadn’t slept well the night before; the noises of tires screeching and metal crashing against metal as flames flared up had haunted me all night, and I could feel a headache coming on.

“Do you mind if I make my own breakfast?” I asked my Aunt politely. I didn’t want to have to suffer through another meal of her cooking “I’m kind of picky in the mornings.”

My Aunt dropped the utensil she was using. “Fine!” She snapped “Fine…” Suddenly, she broke into sobs that wracked her whole body. I drew back slightly. I hadn’t been hoping to have quite that effect on her. Tentatively, I approached her and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Umm…” I began, not entirely knowing what to say “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll just make breakfast for everybody.”

She nodded and wiped her nose on her sleeve. As she sat down, I deftly threw away the foul remains of the breakfast she had cooked and started all over.  Soon the- for lack of a better word - normal smell of fried eggs, toast, and bacon beckoned my little cousins downstairs, their noses lifted the scent like blood-hounds. As I served up their breakfast, I looked at the digital clock on the oven. 7:15.

“Shoot!” I exclaimed, dropping the pan on the stove. I ran as fast as I could across the slick floors, skidding a few times in my socks, and hustled up the stairs. I flung open my drawers and tore off my pajamas; throwing on a T-shirt and jeans as fast as humanly possible. I glanced at my hair in the mirror. It was completely disheveled, but I threw up my hands; there would be no way I could tame that wild mop and still make it to school on time. I just tried to wet it down a little bit and then rushed down the stairs and into my Aunt’s car. She got in a few minutes later and we were off. We got about half-way there when I realized that I still hadn’t eaten breakfast. I shook my head at myself; not only that, but I hadn’t even made a lunch.

With a sigh I turned to my Aunt “You wouldn’t happen to have any cash, would you? I completely forgot to make a lunch.”

Without a word she reached into her purse and gave me a twenty.

I stared at it with surprise “I think this is a little too much. I five would be….”

As had become her habit, she cut me off “It’s for making breakfast this morning.”

I raised an eyebrow. Why was she all of a sudden being so nice to me? “Um, about this morning… would you mind telling me exactly what happened?”

“Yes, I would mind.” She snapped.

“Okay…” I mouthed, deciding not to bring up the subject again.

My Aunt sighed “It’s been exactly six months since your uncle left. I was just remembering him and… and…” Tears began welling up in her eyes.

I panicked. I didn’t want to have another hysterical female on my hands; especially when that female was driving. “That’s Okay.” I said hastily “I don’t need to know.” Luckily, before she could say anything else, we pulled up to the school. I got out as quickly as I could and closed the door behind me. I waved and she drove away.

I turned around and stopped dead in my tracks. I swear; there should’ve been a lightning strike or something; just like in any horror movie. The place was small and what my ever-optimistic sister would’ve called rustic; but to me, it looked like a living nightmare.  I expected Count Dracula or the Mummy to come walking out of those doors at any minute. Shouldn’t there be laws against having a school in a place like that? 

I shuddered and didn’t even bother to look at the name of the school. I looked around me; kids were un-loading out of buses and getting out of their cars. I was relieved to find that they looked normal. There weren’t any zombie’s with decaying skin or werewolves with fur on their skin. They were just normal school kids.

There were the nerds that huddled around each other with their long socks, shorts with suspenders, button-up shirts, and glasses; discussing the latest calculator model. There were the Goths that obscured their faces with ridiculously long bangs and had their black clothes draped on them like grim-reapers (well, maybe not all of the high-schoolers were normal). There were the pretty/mean girls that made every school day seem like a personal fashion-show. Then, there the jocks; walking around as if they owned the school and everyone in it. Girl’s swooned as they approached, the nerds scrambled away as fast as they could, and the Goth’s just turned the other way and ignored them (then again, I think they do that to pretty much everyone).

Normally, I would’ve just avoided the jocks and been on my way, but something caught my eye. Well, not something, but someone; a girl that stood out among their crowd, but in a good way. She didn’t look like she belonged with the cheerleaders and the football players; she looked way too… nice to belong with them.

Soft, nut-brown curls framed her slightly round face. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose, and her light green-eyes twinkled. She was slim, but not to the point where she looked like she was starving herself, and she carried herself with a fun, easy manner.  She caught me staring and smiled warmly, revealing perfectly white, straight teeth.

A small smile escaped from me as well. Even the air around her was infectious with happiness. Her smile disappeared, however, when the quarter-back reached his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.

“How’s my favorite girl?” He asked.

A look of annoyance spread across her face, but then it was gone “I’m fine.” Was all she said. As they walked away, she cast me one last backwards glance before she was lost in the crowd.

I sighed. Get a grip Spencer I told myself There’s no way you could even talk to her, much less get to know her. She’s the quarter-back’s girl; you’re just the wimpy new kid.

First bell rang, bringing me out of my thoughts. I figured I should find the office, since my Aunt had said they had gotten together my supplies. Unfortunately, I had no idea where anything was; I had to ask a complete stranger and seem like a total geek. I looked around as the students trickled into their various classrooms, searching for anyone that looked somewhat approachable.  Nobody was around, other than the punks that freaked me out slightly. I expected them to come up and ask me if I had any dope handy; so I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked away as fast as I could without looking scared.

I wandered aimlessly around the halls of the school, getting lost dozens of times. I refused to ask any of the teachers for directions. I didn’t want to seem like a wimp that needed help with everything. First impressions in high-school were everything. After about fifteen minutes, I finally found the office and walked inside.

The receptionist made me want to recoil back into the hall and get lost; permanently. If Frankenstein had a sister, she would be it. She looked up at me sharply, her uni-brow wiggling like an extremely hairy caterpillar. “What do you want?” She snapped.

“Uhh…” I said lamely. I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to talk to this lady.

“Well?” She barked.

“Um… I’m Spencer Caldwell. I was supposed to come and get some supplies and my class schedule. "

“Oh, well, come right in.” She said, changing her rough voice to something sweet and girly and pasting a fake smile on her face. The change was somewhat unnerving.

“Sit right down and I’ll go get what you need.” She told me, gesturing to some metallic chairs and then disappearing into a back room. I picked up a paperclip from off her desk and threw it onto the chair that she had offered me, checking to see if it was charged with electricity. I knew I was acting paranoid, but the receptionist seemed like the kind of person that would do something like that. The paper-clip didn’t send up a spark, so I felt safe to sit down. A few seconds later she reappeared carrying something that I knew would become the bane of my existence.

I inwardly groaned. The back-pack was pink. Not only that, but it had unicorns and rainbows plastered all over it. I was going to be the laughing stock of the century!

The receptionist handed it to me as if it were the best present I could have received, and then handed me a two slips of paper; one yellow and the other blue.

“This is the map of the school.” She said, gesturing to the yellow slip. “And this is your class schedule.” She gestured to the blue paper.

I tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a pained grimace, and then walked out of the office. As soon as the door shut behind me, I dug around in the pink back-pack, frantically searching for a Sharpie. There wasn’t a single one in there and I groaned. Dejectedly, I looked down at the blue piece of paper in my hand and groaned again. All of my electives were right before lunch in order of least amount of embarrassment to most. First Choir, then Home Ec. and finally PE. I looked up to the heavens, wondering who it was that hated me so much up there. Today was going to be a long day.

*             *             *

I sat down at a table as far away as possible from everyone else, shoving my hideous back-pack under my feet. I ached all over from PE, and I could feel welts forming on my arms and face. I had managed to survive all of my other embarrassing electives, but PE had been murder. We had played dodge-ball, the menace of all PE classes. The coach pretended to be fair, but how fair can you get when you pit the jocks and the body builders against  people like me that had been accidentally signed up for the course?

I watched as life went on around me, everybody completely oblivious to who I was. Colors and faces flashed past me; a sea of endless tints and shades. I alone stood on the colorless bank, watching from the outside. Their whispers seemed ten times louder, and I could pick out individual conversations that others felt were lost in the crowd. “Did you see the latest lip gloss…?” “Yeah, see that girl? She’s totally into me…” “Why is there air?”

I picked moodily at my food. I wished I was part of that crowd. I wished I had friends; had people to relate and talk to. I wish I had a life. My miserable existence now revolved around eating, sleeping, and trying to keep my Aunt semi-happy, and I hated it. I would never be caught dead saying this out loud, but I missed my sister.

Heavy footsteps tried to sneak up behind me. I whirled around and came face to face with Butch Languard; the school bully. I was pretty sure his name wasn’t Butch, but I didn’t have the desire to find out what it really was.

“Hey loser.” He sneered. “I noticed you sitting here all alone and thought I would give you some company.”

His two wing men, Joey and Chad, sniggered.

“Oh,” I said, deciding to mess with them a bit “I didn’t realize you cared that much. Here, let me scoot over so you can all sit down.”

Butch’s face reddened and he grabbed the front of my shirt. He hauled me to my feet and I had to stand on my tip-toes to keep from being strangled by my collar.

“You listen to me, punk” He spat, his putrid breath almost making me gag. I expected to see a green cloud like on the cartoons come pouring from his mouth. “You and your sissy back-pack better stay away from me. This is my school, and I don’t need scum-bags like you messin’ it up.”

I laughed. This guy was a total bone-head!

“What’s so funny?” Butch barked.

“Oh, nothing. I just thought that you had to have at least a third grade education to own a school.” My heart plummeted down to my toes. Where did that come from?! I almost looked around to see who had said that. What was I thinking?! I was the pacifist guy; I walked away from fights, I didn’t start them! Maybe what the shrinks had told me about bundled up emotions was coming true after all. This must’ve been them finally breaking free; while at the same time breaking me!

Butch’s face turned purple, and he slammed me up against a solid brick wall. “You better take that back right now.” He threatened “Or else I’ll skin you alive.”

Stars danced in my vision. I shook my head to clear them away, and then again that same alien personality burst out of my mouth “Yeah, well. You’d have to catch me first.” I tried to bolt away, but Butch grabbed me by the collar, keeping me from escaping.

“Caught ya’.” He said with an evil grin, just before he landed a solid punch right in my face. He didn’t stop there, but proceeded to pummel me everywhere he could reach. The air was forced out of my lungs as he slammed a fist in my stomach, and pain exploded through my face as he hit me multiple times.  Before I realized what I was doing, I swung a punch in defense of myself and actually connected with something significant! Butch stumbled back, clutching his nose as he tried to staunch the flow of blood.  Chad and Joey stepped in to defend their fallen leader, their fists cocked and loaded. I balled my hands into fists and drew them up close to my face, finally using a technique that my dad had taught me when I was younger.

Before the two thugs could pummel me to a pulp, a voice yelled “Stop!”

We all turned and saw the quarter-back advancing towards us. My guard lowered a little bit in surprise. Why would the quarter-back be defending me? While I was distracted, Chad punched me in the gut and I doubled over in pain.

The quarter-back finally reached us. He folded his arms and his eyes were like cold granite. “What do you think you’re doing, picking on my little brother like that?”

My head shot up and I realized he was looking at me! I didn’t understand what was going on. Did he not see that I had been the one being picked on?

“What?” I managed to rasp.

“Stay away from my little brother, okay? Or else I’ll pummel you to a pulp.” He stalked away; Chad, Joey, and Butch following after him. They sneered at me; taunting me with the fact that they had gotten away.

The injustice of it all welled up in my chest, and hot tears threatened to spill over. I wiped at them furiously. I will not cry! I told myself. The bell rang, warning the students to hurry up and get to class. I grabbed the sandwich from off my lunch tray, picked up my back-pack, and threw the hood of my wind-breaker over my head. I didn’t want anyone to see my bruises and have pity on me.

The rest of the school day ticked by slowly, painfully, and I couldn’t wait to get on the bus that would send me back to my Aunt’s house. It was amazing to me that it could seem like such a heaven-on-Earth now.

When the release bell finally rang, I was the first one out the door. I made my way to where the buses came to pick the students up, and then realized I could just walk home. I could see the house from this point, and walking was such a better alternative than riding with a bus-load of strangers. I began my lonely trek, wincing slightly as a bitter wind picked up and stung my bruised and tattered face.

I could hear footsteps running up behind me, and I immediately stiffened in dread. I knew for certain that it was Butch; coming to pay me back for breaking his nose. I kept walking, hoping that he would think I was someone else. A hand grabbed my shoulder.

“Hey.” A girl panted “Would you wait up please? I want to talk to you.”

I whirled around and found myself staring at the girl I had seen with the jocks at the beginning of school. Her eyes stared back at me with concern “Are you okay?” She asked.

I stood there opening and closing my mouth silently, unsure of what to say. “I’m fine.” I finally managed to force out. I turned and began walking again, desperate for an excuse to get away from the awkward situation. She fell into step beside me. “Do you mind if I walk with you? My house isn’t too far away.”

I looked at her in consternation “Aren’t you the quarter-back’s girl?” I asked pointedly.

Her features hardened “No. He’d like to think so though.”

I raised my eyebrow “It looks to me like you’re kind of leading him on.” I cringed inwardly. What was I thinking? This girl was obviously trying to be my friend, but I was pushing her away! Why couldn’t I learn to just shut up?

She stared down at the ground as it passed by under us and scuffed her shoe on the cement. “Well, I guess I kind of was his girl at first. I mean, what girl wouldn’t be flattered to have the most sought after boy in the school ask her to be his girlfriend?”

I didn’t say anything, choosing to let her continue on her own.

“My parents won’t let me date until I’m sixteen, so he just kind of paraded me around and let everyone assume that we were an ‘item’.” She sighed “But then, I realized that he was really just a pretty face. He doesn’t care about the things that make life meaningful, such as a good education and quality friends. He just cared about football and hanging out with the popular crowd. I was just a prize to him, a trophy to be admired and looked at but never really loved and held. I’ve just grown into the habit of letting him pretend like we’re together.”

We walked in silence for a minute, and then she said “You know what’s weird? I’ve only known you for the past five minutes, and already I’m telling you something that no one else knows about me.”

That kind of creeped me out, but at the same time I was sort of flattered.

                “So… um… what’s your name?” I asked awkwardly.

                “Oh, I’m sorry.” She gasped sheepishly “My name’s Lexi.” She stuck out her hand.

                “I’m Spencer” I said, taking her extended hand and shaking it.

                “So, Spencer, how long have you been here?” She asked me.

                “A couple days.” I said with a shrug.

                “Really? Where do you live?”

I stopped and pointed out my Aunt’s house to her.

“Huh.” She mused “I only live a couple houses away. I wonder why I didn’t see any moving trucks.”

“Oh, uh…” I began, my face turning slightly red “I just moved in. I live with my Aunt.”

“Oh. Are your parents out of the country?” She inquired.

My face turned a deeper shade of red “No, actually, my parents were killed in a gang war. They were driving home from Mexico and got caught in the middle of it.”

Lexi’s hands flew to her mouth in horror “Oh my gosh Spencer, I am so sorry! I shouldn’t have asked…”

I waved my hand dismissively “It’s alright.” I told her. “I know one of your deep, dark secrets, and now you know one of mine.”

“But, that’s not the same…” She protested.

“Really,” I argued “It’s okay. Surprisingly, I don’t mind telling you.”

She smiled a little at that. “What do you think of school?” She asked, moving the conversation away from deep waters.

“I hate it.” I told her bluntly.

She seemed taken aback “Hate is an awfully strong word,” She reprimanded gently “Especially on your first day.”

“Did you not see me get beaten up?” I asked sourly.

“Yes, I did.” She answered sincerely “It was awful, but you can’t base your opinion on just one incident.”

   I shrugged “I can’t change what I feel. I have no friends, and the classes I have were chosen for me, and they were definitely not the ones I would’ve picked. Besides that, I have to carry around this thing.” I shook my pink back-pack, and she giggled.

“Well, I can’t change your classes, but I can help you with your back-pack, and hopefully your friend problem is solved by now.”

I glanced at her, and she smiled at me. I smiled back “I think it is. Would your parents mind terribly if you came over and helped me with the back-pack now? I really don’t want to have to go back to school with it like this.”

She nodded “My parents work during the day, so they won’t be back until five or six. I’d be happy to come over and help you out.”

“Great!”

We had just reached my front porch, and I went to open the front door. It was locked. Thinking that my little cousins had locked me out, I pounded on the door, hoping someone would answer. Nobody did. I peered in the window, and nobody seemed to be home. I looked around to see if my Aunt’s car was in the drive-way, and a piece of paper stuffed in a flower pot caught my eye. I picked it up.

Gone out to pick up kids. Key’s under the pot.

My Aunt had scribbled her name at the bottom of the cryptic note. I tapped the paper against my chin in thought. I would feel uncomfortable being alone in the house with Lexi, but I really needed to obscure the unicorns and rainbows on my back-pack. I sighed and turned to Lexi.

“Change of plans.” I told her “My Aunt’s not home, and I’m not entirely sure how she would react to me having someone over while she was gone. Do you think you could come back later?”

Lexi shrugged “Sure. See ya’ later.” She waved and walked down to her house, which was only a couple doors away. I smiled and then unlocked the door. I tromped upstairs into my bedroom and threw my back-pack into a corner, deciding to do my homework later. I laid down on my bed, thinking about the day’s events. A small bit of sun-shine shone through the pristine window, and before I knew it I was fast asleep.

*             *             *

About an hour later, my nap was interrupted by someone knocking on the closed bedroom door. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and groggily got to my feet to open the door. When I did, I was bowled over by an extremely excited red-head.

“Spencer!” She exclaimed, latching around my waist and hugging me tight.

“Morgan?” I asked in surprise, my brain not quite registering what was going on. How in the world had she gotten here?

She pulled away from me, a fake look of hurt on her face. She put her hands on her hips “Of course it’s me! How could you not recognize your own little sister?”

My eyes widened, and I suddenly didn’t care how she had gotten here, all I cared about was that she was here.

“Morgan!” I exclaimed, pulling her into a fierce bear hug. What had started out as a bleak, somber day had now become something amazing. Not only had I found a friend, but my sister was back! After weeks of separation, she was back! I would never let her go again.

As we sat and talked in my bedroom, the clouds disappeared from the sky and bright sunlight filtered in through the window, turning the white walls to a soft yellow. I found out that Morgan had finally managed to convince Social Services that she needed to be with her brother, so now she was going to live with me in this house until I turned eighteen and we were able to move out. I couldn’t stop smiling. My world was no longer gray and cold; it was alive with color and sound that breathed happiness into me, and I couldn’t wait to see where it would take me.

Author's Note

This is another story that I wrote for a Creative Writing Club. It's supposed to be from the viewpoint of an outsider.

As I was writing this story, I had two completely separate ideas on how to finish it. The one I wanted to do would have had a cliff-hanger ending, and then wold have probably turned out to be a novel. But, for the sake of my sanity time-wise, and for the sake of the readers, I shortened it and gave it an ending that was at least semi-satisfying. :)

I'll eventually come back to it and turn it into a book, but for now, enjoy!

P.S.
Any suggestions for a title are greatly appreciated!

Award(s):

Honorable Mention :] ~ "Your Best Writing!! :]" contest

Reviews

[DearSweetAgony]

Well, first off I would like to say that this story was flawlessly written, I LOVED this write. No bumps or unwanted interruptions stunted the flow of the story. But the story seemed kind of... stagnate to me. I mean, it was the same ole' "I'm Not Okay" story, about a boy being thrown into a foreign situation due to an unfortunate tragedy; even the way that they communicated seemed... canned, and outdated. I really do appreciate the fact that there were no obscene and unneeded language entwined in between conversations, (it seems like all story and/or book writers have to throw in some profanities in, just to make a story interesting; which is so not true.) but your story was just something I've read before. And by me saying this, I am not in any way downing your writing skills or your creative ideas. A matter of fact, I don't usually review stories; only the ones with true potential; to see if the writer can improve, to make their 'okay' writes into their great writes. I am just simply saying that...well, basically, (as you put in your authors note) it would probably be best as a book than a story. And then maybe you'll be able to put in some more character development and friendship development in this write. Other than that I LOVED this story, as I said before it has great potential and wonderful story climax and SUPERB flow. All it needs is just a little tweeking. Actually, I don't even think that this is the end of your wits; I think that you do, in fact have more greater stories in your head.....

[Writingfox]

This is really good. What do you mean by outsider? Spencer certainly is an outsider although this isn't written in third person. Can't wait for the next installment. I'll think about the title.

[Summer'sBreeze]

love it!

[yukiderp]

omgosh i just loved this story. i really thoroughly enjoyed it, and i wish you could continue it! it still feels incomplete, and i think you can do so much from here. there ARE a few typos. however you did a wonderful job building up everyone's background and personality. great job!

[Cicera]

The ending, that is namely the reunion of Spencer and his sister, like you also indicated is a satisfying acute turn of events-not so surprisinly a happy one-that would definitely open the narrative. With an introduction of a new character maybe we can see now the counter side of this particular topic. Spencer has been defined and his character built so meticulously here that maybe with the introduction of Morgan into the story we would discover a fresh charater, as its perfect counterpart would yield this one to come out with its share of flaws and other problems, possibly. From there goes my imagination anywhere! But basically you have created a strong base in this story with characters that can take the writing anywhere. Realism is here a version of life of what pedictable characters act like when the upredictable happens. Now, Spencer, for example, is the best one to cite in terms of what we know of his personality and how he evaluates, weighs and judges the acts and the consequences. The major upredictable event-that not only changed spencer's life-is the death of his parents. Now there is really nothing you can say about it other than saying it happened, and the story that followed is what we ought to concern ourselves with.

Similarly the ex-model staunch aunt is a predictable character up to the moment it displays a flaw. And while this causes discomfort for some short time wondering how this could happen with this person and in this story, we're actually asking the wrong question. We'd soon rather see this as the reaction of a predictable person to the unpredictability of life. While her separation from her husband upset her supposedly more for what she doesn't know to be the cause exactly for it happening, the sudden nervous breakdown is her reaction to this situation. Maybe her severe manners are partly made harder by this.

The examples can go on like Spencer's reaction to the unexpected situation of not having anyone at home when he brings in a visitor. The comparison is not made explicitly but I feel free to compare his evaluation and following behaviour to that which pretty face would have done if he'd been in his situation. Obvioulsy, the comparison could not be less constructive than when you put a major character like spencer and a tiny third-grade one like the other kid next to each other.

But not that little constructive either, because one other important theme that forms the skeletal foundation for this story runs through such incompatible pairings. The sense of displacement or foreignness is countered by a wise and detrmined mind that has the courage both to express sadness and discontent and also adapt to situations by looking up solutions.

The optimism in the story is based not on the goodness that life can offer-just like as nasty as it can get-but positivity is the ability to think and act right.

Perhaps the sudden introducion of the sister at the end wants to say something to that end here. For suddenly all the bleakness and sterile huelessness-and not darkness, mind you-the solitariness and the stinking brown chicken evaporated as they never happened. Isn't life beautiful!

Maybe one should see life-a little bit-as a hysterical woman. Yes, some questions need to be asked, but one should know better than to ask many, and especially if she is driving the car!

So Well done Spencer! I like this story very much, the writing is impeccable and the humour employed in the whole is mild and pleasing.

I think any suggestions that I come up with for a title would be at least as bad as my thoughts were in the beginning on how to expand the story. Thank you for writing such a lovely story that offers so much to learn and enjoy for people of any age.

[SwagMaster]

Awesome!!