Chapter TwoA Chapter by Deanna BallardI've been told by countless adults, mostly in their twenties,
that I have an old soul. It's mostly because I wear my pants a bit sagged and
you can see the very tops of my undies. I wear my tank tops tight and a bit up
so you can see my midriff. They say I have a '90s flavor to me. I did like
debuting Aaliyah and TLC's style before they started dressing like women and
stopped dressing like teenagers. At lunch, I'm sitting with my head down having already
devoured my food. The noise doesn't bother me. In my house you learn to sleep
through anything. I feel a hand barely touching my stomach and I jump. "Hey, Zar," Terry whispers in my ear. I sit up and punch him in the chest. He traps my fist against
his heart and pulls me in for a kiss. Kissing him was one of my favorite things to do. We used to
spend a lot of time in the back stairwell. I pull out of the kiss. "What the hell, Ter! Where's
your girl?" He smiles a crooked smile. He’s much lighter than I am, being
Puerto Rican and all and his eyes are practically black but he has a good
heart. You have to really know him to know that. Off the top he comes off like
a jerk. "Right here." "Boy, please," I say holding back a smile. "So, has your mom's newest boyfriend gotten to you
yet?" I snatch my hand away and stand up. "Why would you ask me that?" I whisper, disgusted. He stands, "I didn't mean it like that." "Then how did you mean it? I told you that in
confidence." "I know but--" "You'd be in jail if I hadn't talked you down." He looks away. "That will never happen again. I was..." I trail
off not knowing what I was. "I'm here for you, Azaria." "I know." I suddenly feel very lost and I think he senses that because
he hugs me. "Terry, what's going on?" "Go away!" I hear him growl at the voice I know
belongs to his girlfriend. Everyone in this school knows Terry and I will never be over,
new girlfriend or not. We were perfect for each other in a destructive kind of
way. We were in love; still are to a degree. I just didn't want us to get to a
point where we changed from violent love to all violence and no love. I had
enough of that at home. He's also the only person who knows about my life at home.
He's been there at night, unbeknownst to my mother, when she brought a random
guy over who paid her for her services and then beat the stuffing out of her
because she didn't last that long or because she, on one of rare occasions,
kept him out of my room. He knows me. Not just the me I want everyone to know. I'm all
that I am but I bring my "shining" qualities to the forefront when I
don't want to give off hints that something's bothering me. I realize how much he means to me and I kiss him like he's
still mine. I know everybody's looking because that's like one of my things, to
be watched. And I know she's watching and hating me but in pain because of him.
People tried to warn her. Maybe she thought she could change him. "Thanks," I say and turn to go. He holds on a bit longer than he should then lets me go. I escape to the band room. I find my seat and my snare drum
and tap away at it, not too loud and not too serious. Mr. Washington comes in from his private office. "I thought I heard someone out here." He is the youngest and most attractive band coordinator we've
ever had. The again, he's that good. Today he's wearing blue jeans, a white button down and a red
pullover vest. Earrings shine in his ears reminding me that he's somehow gotten
away with that so far. "What are you doing here so early?" "Had to get away." He's attracted to me but I'm okay with that because I'm
attracted to him too. He keeps his distance, "What're you running from?" The
world, I think. I shrug my shoulders for him. "You don't strike me as the unsure type." "I'm not. But there are just some things my careless
attitude doesn't have an answer for." "You never cease to amaze me with your maturity." I laugh, "Some people would argue with you on that. But
I have no choice but to be mature. Azaria doesn't have the luxury of being a
happy-go-lucky teen." "Sounds deep rooted. Do you want to talk about it?" I become acutely aware that if I say yes, I'll have him. Our
relationship will grow until we finally sleep together and he eventually loses
his job. Meanwhile, I'll possibly graduate and go on to live my life while his
is ruined. "No, thanks. I've been coping for this long. I can
manage a bit longer." He smiles and heads back into his office. Band class helps me get out some frustrations. After school,
I head home. I see Terry and his girlfriend. She's yelling at him but he's
smiling and waving goodbye to me. Soon I see my brick bungalow house coming up.
It's nothing special with its broken gate and it's crappy lawn and it's
terribly paved driveway. I turn up the walkway and climb the four stairs. I sigh, not
quite prepared for another day at "home". When I open the door, John is standing there. "Not in the mood," I warn. "Too bad. And we finally get to have some...alone time." Something about the way he says that alerts me to my current
predicament. "Where's my mom?" "Not here. Aren't we lucky?" I quickly turn back toward the door and he grabs my backpack.
I slip out of the straps and fall out of the door that I hadn't completely
closed yet.
I skin my hands in an attempt to protect my face
from the fall. "You'll have to come back sometime," he muses. "Like hell I do."
I spit on the walkway. He doesn't like that so he comes out
after me but I run back down the walkway and away from that house. I spot a
black truck parked outside the house but keep running. This time for my
survival. © 2013 Deanna Ballard |
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Added on April 27, 2012 Last Updated on August 26, 2013 AuthorDeanna BallardForest Park, IL, ILAboutWhat defines me is not what I can tell you, but the things I can't. Know the things I cannot tell, and you'll find you know me I'm pretty laid back. I have a great sense of humor. I don't particula.. more..Writing
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