"Mrow?" I woke up to Storm's yowls. She was my alarm cat (get it? Clock, cat, ha-ha…erm). Yawning, I stepped out of bed and looked around. Aunt Jocelyn had already left for work. Her bed, across the room from mine, was a mess as usual. I quickly made it, then my own. Then I shuffled down the hall to the kitchen it my black slippers, wide legged pants and tank top. A note was on the table. Zev, Left for work, please feed the kids, have a good day, I'll be back at 4, but I have work again at 6. Just remember, last day 'till summer! –Celyn
I smiled. Aunt Celyn was a devout Goth; she influenced me to my decision of being a semi-Goth. I believed there was a lot of evil in the world, and wore what most Goths wore, but I wasn't totally a Goth. My mother was and still is a Catholic, except she takes drugs and drinks. Kind of ironic, if you ask me. I've hated my mother forever. By the time I was six, I would ride my bike down to see Aunt Celyn every day. When I was eight I moved in with her. Actually, I ran away to her. I had left most of my clothes and stuff, except the essentials, and things I just couldn't leave. My aunt's cool. She buys me anything, and has no curfew or rules except to try to stay out of big trouble.
I quickly drank my hot chocolate and went back to our room. I wasn't a big breakfaster, but I did like hot chocolate. On Sundays, Aunt Celyn and I would have Sundays, but that was usually the biggest breakfast I'd have. Anyway, I my room, I showered (no, I did that in the bathroom), and changed into actual clothes.
Today, I decided I'd wear my dark blue jeans and crimson half-sleeve shirt. It matched the crimson streaks in my dark brown hair and the bottom of it was dyed crimson (bottom of my hair, not my shirt). I loved my hair. It was thick and went down to my waist, but I usually wore it in a French braid. Aunt Celyn taught me how to do that myself. Anyway, I wore that, my black platform boots, and my black sweatshirt which I wore every day. It had a gray wolf howling in front of a full moon. And, of course, it had a hood.
I looked in the mirror. I'm tall, on the skinnier side, and fair. Not pale, fair. I have green eyes with a hint of gold, a straight nose and almost full lips. I put on my green eye shadow and dark lipstick, then my big hoop earrings, black leather bracelet (with wolf imprints, of course), watch and black ring. I always had my wolf-head necklace on. It was my good luck charm or my guardian wolf, even if I wasn't supposed to believe in that stuff.
Walking to the pantry, I got the cat food and put in the bowls. Putting the food away, I called for the 'kids' as Aunt Celyn called our cats.
"Tabitha, Jasper, Elvira, Luna, Charcoal, Storm, Breakfast's ready!" Charcoal and Storm were my two favorites. Charcoal I had bought from the SPCA, and Storm I had found in an alleyway. I had fed her and comforted her until she had been strong enough to stand on her own. She knew all my secrets. Because she was still a kitten and I didn't want to leave her home when I went to school, I put her on my left shoulder. The teachers and principle soon learned she was going to stay with me whether they liked it or not.
Storm, of course, came first, quickly eating then hopping onto the table, patiently waiting for me to put her on her special spot. Like me, she was usually calm, unless something got her really mad. Then, look out!
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I tapped my pencil on my desk, waiting for school to end. Finally, the bell rang and I was free!!! Grabbing my bag, I headed out, Storm on my shoulder as usual. Grinning like an idiot, I walked to the bus stop and waited for the bus (no, I was waiting for my limo, whatta ya think? DUH!!). It finally came, but it looked different. Instead of Billy, who would always greet me with a "how're you today, missy", there was a bored looking guy. Also, the people looked like they were from the sixties. I got off at the next stop. I would rather walk home than stay on that bus. But wherever I was, I wasn't in SF. It looked like I was in a movie from the sixties, like Grease of The Outsiders. Weird, I thought with an inward shrug.
But I only got a few feet when a guy who was dressed like a Greaser from the sixties started making catcalls at me. I grinned and turned towards him. "Hey man, maybe instead of making catcalls at me like an idiot, you should go to that insane asylum they have reserved for you. I'm sure you'll feel more at home there."
The guy narrowed his eyes at me. He did not like that comment. Then again, I didn't expect him to. But I liked his style, and decided it was time to reach out and make a friend (corny as it sounds).