Chapter 1- Waking Up

"Wake up, please..."

A small hand fluttered over my cheek. I grunted and squeezed my eyes tightly before prying them open. I was greeted by a small face, complete with a shimmering pair of silver eyes, a tiny white nose, a wide toothy smile framed by little pink lips, and a messy crop of light blond hair.

"Good morning sugar," I slurred sleepily, trying to adjust my eyes to the bright light beaming in from the thin curtains covering the grimy windows in my small room.

"Mommy isn't getting up again," Rose whispered, her wide smile falling into a frown, pulling her eyes down with it. My heart broke to see her beautiful young eyes so troubled. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. I searched for a clean wash rag, and pulled on the cold water tap. Nothing but a small splatter of brown water emerged.

I threw down the rag and stormed into my mothers room. She was sprawled on a bed littered with glass bottles and crushed cans. Her mouth was agape and there was drool pooling on the pillow supporting a mass of unkempt brown hair. I angrily flipped the light switch on, then off again. Seems we had no electricity. Again. I kicked away bottles as I moved toward the small window above the bed. I swept away the cans on the sill and forced the old window open. Fresh air flooded the room and helped drive the stale smell of the room out.

A sharp sting landed across my knee, which I had been placed on the bed in able to reach the window. I looked down to see a sharp pair of cloudy steel grey eyes glaring at me from beneath hooded lids. I felt a sharp shove to my stomach as I was pushed from the bed. In the same motion, the dirty sheets were yanked over the mess of hair and the stench of vodka invaded my nostrils. Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, I mastered my frustration.

"Do you plan on getting up anytime soon, or am I making breakfast again?" A muffled growl was my only answer. Huffing, I slowly picked my way towards the door, kicking away cans and bottles. Rose was standing in the doorway; a small tear slowly sliding down her slender nose. I knelt before her and gently brushed the tear from her cheek. Standing up, I reached for her tender hand, and gently guided her to the kitchen. I pulled out her favorite cup from the cabinet and sat it in front of her as she pulled herself into the rickety chair.

With no running water or electricity, what would I make? I slid my hand into the fridge, and felt a burst of cool air, letting me know the fridge was still cold. Pulling the door completely open, I slid out a gallon of milk and a small pack of blueberries. Opening the cabinet, I searched for a box of cereal. Hidden near the back was a crushed box of Frosted Flakes. I searched for two bowls and poured cereal into each. I poured milk over them and added the blueberries to Roses bowl. Her eyes watched hungrily as I searched for a spoon. Pushing the bowl towards her, I sat down to see her happily tuck into the small breakfast.  

We ate in silence, each of us in our own world, thinking about our own problems, our own worries. The deafening silence was only broken by the occasional clink as a spoon knocked against the side of the bowl, or a small thud as an elbow hit the table.

When Rose stood to rinse out her bowl, I quickly rose to intercept her. Gently pulling the bowl from her grasp, I turned to the sink and began speaking, trying to keep the fatigue from my voice.

"You can take the bathroom this morning, just hurry so we won't be late to the bus stop." Smiling, she speed to the bathroom.

After I had cleared the rest of the table, I searched through the cabinets and found a crushed poptart underneath an old can of beans. I walked down the hall to find Mom's door closed. At least she had gotten up this morning, that's progress, right? Shaking my head, I slid the poptart under her door, and walked into my room. I threw open the curtains to help wake myself up, and began making up my messy bed. While I was pulling the sheets, I thought I heard the faint rustle of the poptart wrapper.

"You're welcome," I grumbled to myself, pulling open my closet. I decide on an old green t-shirt and a ragged pair of jeans. I finger combed my hair and picked up my holey backpack. I heard the bathroom door open, and Rose emerged, looking refreshed and excited. She was also wearing her uniform... S**t! Today was uniform day! I hastily opened my closet and ripped off my shirt. I threw on the royal blue polo and slid into the stiff khaki pants.

I turned around and Rose was waiting for me in the doorway, her pink backpack slung over one shoulder, a smile playing at her lips. Squeezing into my thrift store dress shoes, I grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. The bus was lumbering down the street and met us just as we reached the end of our driveway. As we boarded the empty bus, I mumbled a greeting to the driver and slid into the seat behind her. Rose gracefully sat in the seat across from me and began speaking with the bus driver.

"Now how's your momma doing?" The large black woman behind the wheel drawled.

"Eh, good enough. Last night was rough, but she's better this morning." Rose replied, smiling toward me.

"She'll get better, just have to give 'er some time," Roxie replied, oozing wisdom and kindness. Rose sat back and her eyes darkened, but she quickly hid it with a smile. She had been waiting for mom to get better for three years now, and I knew it killed her to see Mom like this.

As they fell silent, we passed another bus, the bus for the public school. I groaned inwardly. I so badly wanted to go there. People there were from all walks of life, there were no uniforms, people didn't care how you expressed yourself, you could walk around without being judged... Instead, I had to go to a private school, full of preps and jocks who laughed if you didn't  have the latest shoes or the most expensive cellphone. I hated it there. I stood out like a sore thumb because of my long hair, awkwardly lanky limbs, and my naturally shy personality. I actually cared about my school work, and normally spent my free time doing extra work, or reading, not partying and getting drunk like them.

Roxie pulled the bus to a stop behind the others, yanking me from my thoughts. Kids were milling around everywhere, mingling and socializing  before the first bell. I steeled myself for the onslaught of whispers and stares, and stumbled down the bus stairs. Avoiding anyone's gaze, I hurried into the building, devoid other students this early in the morning. I walked into my first bell; Biology. It was my favorite subject, even if I didn't always outwardly show it. I slid my backpack under my desk, and pulled out a well read copy of Maximum Ride. It was meant for reading levels way below mine, but the plot was so well written, and the characters so developed that it was hard not to love. I quickly submerged myself into the book and was disrupted ten pages later by the bell echoing through the halls. Kids quickly began filtering into the halls and dribbling into the class. Sighing, I marked my place and slid the book under my chair. The second bell rang, signaling all students that they needed to be in class or be marked late.

Mrs. Crowley sauntered into the room as the bell ended. She stared down her nose at us like specimen under a slide, analyzing and probing with her piercing eyes. Sitting down at her desk, she took roll quickly and precisely. She then drew our attention toward her by clearing her throat. She was one of the more strict teachers and was known to give detention for the slightest infractions. Most students feared her, while I adored her. She was the definition of organization and calm in such a chaotic world.

"Please deliver your homework to the desk at the front of the room," she directed, and out of habit I bent down to pull my homework from my backpack, only to find it completely blank. I silently scolded myself as I felt my face begin to burn.

I had lost track of time last night. I had spent most of the night holding Mom's hair back as she emptied her stomach into the toilet, only to watch her refill it with alcohol, then empty it again and again. After mom had finished the vicious cycle, she promptly fell asleep, leaving me to comfort Rose, who is always upset when Mom has an episode like this. I remember holding Rose until she fell asleep last night. Last time I looked at a clock it was 3:00am. I know I had a rough night, but I still scolded myself, telling myself I was better than this.

By now all of the other students had delivered their papers to the desk, leaving me, face burning, holding a blank sheet of paper. Mrs. Crowley scanned the room and saw me sitting at my desk, head down, ashamed. She strolled over to my desk, and pulled the paper from my hands.

"Look what we have here. A blank assignment, I see. Aaron, I expect more from my pupils, you know that. You will see me after class today,"she said, sliding the blank paper onto my desk. As she turned her back to the class, I heard a number of slight snickers and hardly contained laughter. She addressed the class and instructed us to complete a number of exercises from our work books. Keeping my head low, I slid my book from my bag and began working. The class seemed to drag forever, and every time I looked up, it seemed Mrs. Crowley was staring at me through her bird like eyes.

When the bell rang, the rest of the class scrambled to their feet and hurriedly exited the room, while I slowly packed up my things. Turning towards Mrs. Crowley’s desk, I saw her already standing behind me. To my surprise she pulled a chair close to me and sat.

"Sit," she instructed, gesturing at my chair. Dumbfounded, I heavily flopped back into my empty chair.