Chapter One
Samantha rolled over and jammed her face further into her pillow. She could hear him. The way his keys jingled, the way the door slammed angrily behind him, the clunk of his boots as he stomped his way upstairs. She tried to ignore him, but her сердце started to race nervously, as it did every time her father came home. Drunk, usually. As hard as Samantha tried not to care, she felt panicked. Curling deeper into the blankets, she shook in anticipation and fury. Fury because he came back again. And again. And again. Fury because he was loud, obnoxious, and she just wanted him gone.
The footsteps came thundering up the stairs, pulsating through the house, and she heard the familiar, yet unwelcome “Samantha!” along with the crush of a glass bottle breaking. A howl of pain escaped from their dog, Poochy Pie. The flame of anger was ignited in Samantha’s chest, lighting her on fire, leaving her flaming from head to toe. She lept out of постель, кровати and rushed down save Poochy Pie. Her dog was writhing on the floor in pain, glass stuck in her eye, blood dripping from the wounds on her back. Something in Samantha’s head snapped, the spun around on her heel to face her disgusting, intoxicated father.
“Get out,” she snarled.
In response, her father drooled. Samantha literally shoved him, hands pressing into his puffy back fat, out the door.
“Get out and never come back!”
Her dad ranted and raged, throwing potted plants at her. The ceramics pierced her skin, leaving deep gashes across her forehead and collarbone. Vaguely, she wondered why none of the neighbors noticed. Oh yeah, they were all probably passed out или stoned. She did live in Graysville, after all. This type of thing was a daily occurance, rather mundane for her neighborhood.
Samantha slammed the door in his face, and dead-bolted it, slumping against it, chest heaving. Poochy Pie lay limply on the carpet a few feet away from her and Samantha began to pick the shards of glass out of her dog. Poochy Pie whined and whimpered in pain as Samantha tried to remove the glass, even the glass in her eye. Damn that man, she thought. Samantha thought of her older sister, Savannah, and what she would do. She was so lucky she was in college. She got out of here. And away from her father. Sometimes Samantha wondered if she was trying to get away from her,too. Poochy Pie looked up, interupting Samantha’s thoughts. What was she going to do now? Her dad was gone, for good hopefully, but since her mom died 5 years ago, it’s illegal for her to be by herself. Not that anyone cared about abiding by the law where she lived.
Luckily, Poochy Pie’s injuries weren’t bad, and Samantha didn’t have to call anyone. The Далее day, Samantha went to school as usual. Graysville High school was your typical white trash public high school. Underfunded and overpopulated, with lots of undetermined, run of the mill teenagers. Though the school claims it “has wonderful, caring and respectful students with bright futures ahead of them”. Yeah if your version of bright future involves broken condoms, trailer parks, and being employed by Walmart. In that case, we all have bright futures. Practically shining in fact. Samantha’s converses slapped the pavement as she walked her usual route to school, avoiding the worse parts of the nieghborhood, to avoid being shot in a hit and run. The drab building loomed in front of her, and she stepped in reluctantly. For her, school was a place, to sit and Космос out for 7 and a half hours. Attendance required. Thinking optional.
Even though she was in all honors classes, Samantha was never challenged. Graysville honors classes were probably most school’s “extra help” classes. Her teacher’s mouths moved, but it was as if words never even came out. Samantha didn’t hear them. Yet she aced every test. One benefit of going to a crappy, ghetto school. Being a sophmore at Graysville means Ты can: A. Stay under the radar
B. Go off “campus” for lunch and
C. Get stoned in the bathroom without getting in trouble
Those are pretty much all the benefits, and all are passionately abused by the vast majority of the student population.
Even Samantha cut class on a daily basis. For example, right now she was ditching Honors English, sitting in the back of the library, contemplating what to do about her dad. She didn’t want to get arrested, but she definetly didn’t want foster care. And then what about money? If her dad was gone, she’d have no way to buy food, или pay the water and electricity bill. She always assumed she’d end up getting a job, but never actually thought it would be so soon.
During lunch, Samantha didn’t even bother going to the lunchroom, или even eating in general. Walking right through the front doors, she fumbled with her lighter and cigarette, her hands shaking. Across the street, at the Kmart, she inhaled and sighed in relief. Then, it hit her. My god, how was she going to pay for her cigarettes? Realizing this sent her into a panicked frenzy. Breathing elevated, she lumbered aimlessly across the parking lot and strip mall, searching for a Hiring sign in a window somewhere. Ah hah! The walgreens! Okay, so not ideal, but it’ll work, she thought. She padded halfway through the automatic door, then thought better of the smoking cigarette she was holding. Hastily, she put it out and threw it away. They probably wouldn’t hire her if she sauntered in, hypreventilating, cigarette in one hand, sweaty hair falling in face, limbs flailing as she asked if they would please hire her to work in their store. Samantha took a few минуты to Составить herself before entering and asking for a job application.
Mandi, the head cheerleader, and grade A whore,flipped and tumbled across the gym, smiling manically, and chanting pro-school propoganda. Samantha was trapped in yet another school pep rally. Enclosing students in the gym, so we could all get “pepped up and ready to support our team tonight” and watch the idiot cheerleaders try to significantly lower our self-esteem. Doesn’t work on me, thought Samantha, as she switched songs on her сделать ставку, ipod hidden in her trashed out hoodie. The Avril Lavigne buzzing in her ear helped block out Mandi’s high screechy voice, but it couldn’t block her vision. The cheerleaders were the pride and joy of the school and the administration. They got еще funding than any academic subject, или extracurricular. Probably because they were the only thing at Graysville that ever got anywhere. Which was pretty amazing considering all they do is yell and do cartwheels.But then again cheerleading isn’t exactly Alabama’s main industry. If we even have one. According to this one website, Alabama is ranked 2nd worst state to live in, секунда only to Arizona. Gotta Любовь it. Anyways, as Mandi and her army of sluts jumped, and flipped, and “cheered”, Samantha started wondering if her dad was going to be Главная after school. Probably not. She hoped not. Right?
The door clicked behind her, and everything was the same as it was last night, after the fight. I got lucky, Samantha thought. If he wasn’t back by tonight, he was gone forever. The диван, мягкий уголок was saggy and stained with stale beer, and Poochy Pie was perched on top, same as everything else. Her father was lucky he didn’t hurt Poochy, then he really would have gotten an earful. Samantha tiptoed over some trash and broken glass, and rubbed Poochy Pie’s head.
“Hi, girl” she murmured into her soft silken fur. Garbage was strewn across the mildewy floor and Samantha absentmindily noted that she should clean it. Not that it would ever happen. The bathroom was equally disgusting, if not еще so, with the ants scurrying over the tiles and in the sink. Glancing into it, Samantha realized the mirror was cracked. When did that happen? She wondered. Yet another thing to fix around here. Her appearance also needed some fixing, if she wanted that job, which she needed desparetly if she ever wanted to eat again. Her каштан colored hair was matted around her face, her makeup-less eyes looked slightly deranged, and her cheeks were pale and gaunt looking. Whipping out her cosmetic bag she rarely used, she started mapping out her wardrobe choices. Sweatpants were out, obviously. Did she even own a кардиган или a skirt? Swiping mascara on, apparently, was a lot harder than it appeared. Maybe Mandi actually was talented at something. After approximately thirty minutes, Samantha looked passable. Not amazing, but at least people wouldn’t cringe when they looked at her.
“What would Ты consider to be your weaknesses?”
My god, Samantha was not prepared for this.
“Well, I’m еще of an independent worker and a perfectionist, so I don’t like it when, well, um, things aren’t done, um, the way I like them,” Samantha replied nervously. A largely obese man with pit stains was staring down at her with beady eyes, interveiwing her.
“Good, good,” he сказал(-а) gruffly as he shuffled his papers into a pile. Samantha tried not to stare when his chin wobbled, and she sat very still, not wanting to ruin her chances of getting a job. She needed Еда to live, and hell, she wanted to live.
“Well?” he asked her, condesendingly.
“Aren’t Ты going to get your uniform, and get over to the register??”
“Oh! Well, thank Ты very much...sir!”
Samantha rolled over and jammed her face further into her pillow. She could hear him. The way his keys jingled, the way the door slammed angrily behind him, the clunk of his boots as he stomped his way upstairs. She tried to ignore him, but her сердце started to race nervously, as it did every time her father came home. Drunk, usually. As hard as Samantha tried not to care, she felt panicked. Curling deeper into the blankets, she shook in anticipation and fury. Fury because he came back again. And again. And again. Fury because he was loud, obnoxious, and she just wanted him gone.
The footsteps came thundering up the stairs, pulsating through the house, and she heard the familiar, yet unwelcome “Samantha!” along with the crush of a glass bottle breaking. A howl of pain escaped from their dog, Poochy Pie. The flame of anger was ignited in Samantha’s chest, lighting her on fire, leaving her flaming from head to toe. She lept out of постель, кровати and rushed down save Poochy Pie. Her dog was writhing on the floor in pain, glass stuck in her eye, blood dripping from the wounds on her back. Something in Samantha’s head snapped, the spun around on her heel to face her disgusting, intoxicated father.
“Get out,” she snarled.
In response, her father drooled. Samantha literally shoved him, hands pressing into his puffy back fat, out the door.
“Get out and never come back!”
Her dad ranted and raged, throwing potted plants at her. The ceramics pierced her skin, leaving deep gashes across her forehead and collarbone. Vaguely, she wondered why none of the neighbors noticed. Oh yeah, they were all probably passed out или stoned. She did live in Graysville, after all. This type of thing was a daily occurance, rather mundane for her neighborhood.
Samantha slammed the door in his face, and dead-bolted it, slumping against it, chest heaving. Poochy Pie lay limply on the carpet a few feet away from her and Samantha began to pick the shards of glass out of her dog. Poochy Pie whined and whimpered in pain as Samantha tried to remove the glass, even the glass in her eye. Damn that man, she thought. Samantha thought of her older sister, Savannah, and what she would do. She was so lucky she was in college. She got out of here. And away from her father. Sometimes Samantha wondered if she was trying to get away from her,too. Poochy Pie looked up, interupting Samantha’s thoughts. What was she going to do now? Her dad was gone, for good hopefully, but since her mom died 5 years ago, it’s illegal for her to be by herself. Not that anyone cared about abiding by the law where she lived.
Luckily, Poochy Pie’s injuries weren’t bad, and Samantha didn’t have to call anyone. The Далее day, Samantha went to school as usual. Graysville High school was your typical white trash public high school. Underfunded and overpopulated, with lots of undetermined, run of the mill teenagers. Though the school claims it “has wonderful, caring and respectful students with bright futures ahead of them”. Yeah if your version of bright future involves broken condoms, trailer parks, and being employed by Walmart. In that case, we all have bright futures. Practically shining in fact. Samantha’s converses slapped the pavement as she walked her usual route to school, avoiding the worse parts of the nieghborhood, to avoid being shot in a hit and run. The drab building loomed in front of her, and she stepped in reluctantly. For her, school was a place, to sit and Космос out for 7 and a half hours. Attendance required. Thinking optional.
Even though she was in all honors classes, Samantha was never challenged. Graysville honors classes were probably most school’s “extra help” classes. Her teacher’s mouths moved, but it was as if words never even came out. Samantha didn’t hear them. Yet she aced every test. One benefit of going to a crappy, ghetto school. Being a sophmore at Graysville means Ты can: A. Stay under the radar
B. Go off “campus” for lunch and
C. Get stoned in the bathroom without getting in trouble
Those are pretty much all the benefits, and all are passionately abused by the vast majority of the student population.
Even Samantha cut class on a daily basis. For example, right now she was ditching Honors English, sitting in the back of the library, contemplating what to do about her dad. She didn’t want to get arrested, but she definetly didn’t want foster care. And then what about money? If her dad was gone, she’d have no way to buy food, или pay the water and electricity bill. She always assumed she’d end up getting a job, but never actually thought it would be so soon.
During lunch, Samantha didn’t even bother going to the lunchroom, или even eating in general. Walking right through the front doors, she fumbled with her lighter and cigarette, her hands shaking. Across the street, at the Kmart, she inhaled and sighed in relief. Then, it hit her. My god, how was she going to pay for her cigarettes? Realizing this sent her into a panicked frenzy. Breathing elevated, she lumbered aimlessly across the parking lot and strip mall, searching for a Hiring sign in a window somewhere. Ah hah! The walgreens! Okay, so not ideal, but it’ll work, she thought. She padded halfway through the automatic door, then thought better of the smoking cigarette she was holding. Hastily, she put it out and threw it away. They probably wouldn’t hire her if she sauntered in, hypreventilating, cigarette in one hand, sweaty hair falling in face, limbs flailing as she asked if they would please hire her to work in their store. Samantha took a few минуты to Составить herself before entering and asking for a job application.
Mandi, the head cheerleader, and grade A whore,flipped and tumbled across the gym, smiling manically, and chanting pro-school propoganda. Samantha was trapped in yet another school pep rally. Enclosing students in the gym, so we could all get “pepped up and ready to support our team tonight” and watch the idiot cheerleaders try to significantly lower our self-esteem. Doesn’t work on me, thought Samantha, as she switched songs on her сделать ставку, ipod hidden in her trashed out hoodie. The Avril Lavigne buzzing in her ear helped block out Mandi’s high screechy voice, but it couldn’t block her vision. The cheerleaders were the pride and joy of the school and the administration. They got еще funding than any academic subject, или extracurricular. Probably because they were the only thing at Graysville that ever got anywhere. Which was pretty amazing considering all they do is yell and do cartwheels.But then again cheerleading isn’t exactly Alabama’s main industry. If we even have one. According to this one website, Alabama is ranked 2nd worst state to live in, секунда only to Arizona. Gotta Любовь it. Anyways, as Mandi and her army of sluts jumped, and flipped, and “cheered”, Samantha started wondering if her dad was going to be Главная after school. Probably not. She hoped not. Right?
The door clicked behind her, and everything was the same as it was last night, after the fight. I got lucky, Samantha thought. If he wasn’t back by tonight, he was gone forever. The диван, мягкий уголок was saggy and stained with stale beer, and Poochy Pie was perched on top, same as everything else. Her father was lucky he didn’t hurt Poochy, then he really would have gotten an earful. Samantha tiptoed over some trash and broken glass, and rubbed Poochy Pie’s head.
“Hi, girl” she murmured into her soft silken fur. Garbage was strewn across the mildewy floor and Samantha absentmindily noted that she should clean it. Not that it would ever happen. The bathroom was equally disgusting, if not еще so, with the ants scurrying over the tiles and in the sink. Glancing into it, Samantha realized the mirror was cracked. When did that happen? She wondered. Yet another thing to fix around here. Her appearance also needed some fixing, if she wanted that job, which she needed desparetly if she ever wanted to eat again. Her каштан colored hair was matted around her face, her makeup-less eyes looked slightly deranged, and her cheeks were pale and gaunt looking. Whipping out her cosmetic bag she rarely used, she started mapping out her wardrobe choices. Sweatpants were out, obviously. Did she even own a кардиган или a skirt? Swiping mascara on, apparently, was a lot harder than it appeared. Maybe Mandi actually was talented at something. After approximately thirty minutes, Samantha looked passable. Not amazing, but at least people wouldn’t cringe when they looked at her.
“What would Ты consider to be your weaknesses?”
My god, Samantha was not prepared for this.
“Well, I’m еще of an independent worker and a perfectionist, so I don’t like it when, well, um, things aren’t done, um, the way I like them,” Samantha replied nervously. A largely obese man with pit stains was staring down at her with beady eyes, interveiwing her.
“Good, good,” he сказал(-а) gruffly as he shuffled his papers into a pile. Samantha tried not to stare when his chin wobbled, and she sat very still, not wanting to ruin her chances of getting a job. She needed Еда to live, and hell, she wanted to live.
“Well?” he asked her, condesendingly.
“Aren’t Ты going to get your uniform, and get over to the register??”
“Oh! Well, thank Ты very much...sir!”
"Oh my gawd! Lauren, Ты like Jack?!" сказал(-а) Koshi. I blushed and replied,"... Yeah, so what?" she gave me a puzzled look, and then she caught up with my Вопрос of curiosity and rolled her eyes and said, "So what? Do Ты even know the reason why it's a problem?" I shrug and say, "No," her face starts to get red like a cherry. I пересекать, крест my arms, and shifted my weight on my left leg. "Why? Is it a problem if I like Jack?" Koshi looked down and looked at me like I should've heard."He wasn't a good boyfriend." I raised my eyebrows.What? Why hasn't anybody told me that Koshi and Jack were going out? Why? "Oh.My.GAWD!"