I introduce a character here who is very important in the story. Hope you guys enjoy. :)
Chapter 3 - Chase The Morning
I was woken up at 8:30 the next morning by dad banging enthusiastically on my door and calling, "Oh, Shaylee! Wake up! You have a morning of hell ahead!"
He couldn't have been more right. School.
The night before had been so hectic that I'd forgotten to put my pyjamas on to go to bed. I woke up still in my black jumper and joggers. When I stepped into the hallway, rubbing my eyes and straightening my hair that looked like a lion's mane, even our dim light blinded me. I glanced down at the carpet to see if Ace had still left his mark there. Or rather, if my mark was still left there. It was much fainter now, though I could still see it. Dad had obviously tried to clean it up, but with his mind he's so careless at stuff like that.
I heard dad fidgeting in his room. I plodded in like a zombie, and flopped onto mom and dad's bed. Dad was sorting out his clothes in the wardrobe and didn't even turn around when I slumped on the bed. Curled up in a ball, I just looked at him, still in his night clothes with his hair perfectly in shape, despite it not being brushed.
After a few moments, dad said, "Mornin', sunshine."
He still did not turn around to face me, but I didn't mind.
"Morning," I replied, my voice monotone.
"Sounds like someone didn't sleep so much last night, huh?" he chuckled.
"Nah, not with mom yelling all night long."
Dad spluttered into raucous laughter as he continued carefully filing his clothes. It was then I remembered what I found from the day before. I crawled forward and leaned over to see if the face-paint was still present, and it was, still perfectly piled up at the bottom. I curiously looked at dad, my face lighting up when I saw him file through the colourful suit and ties I noticed yesterday.
"Dad?" I spluttered, without thinking.
"Yes?"
I paused for a few moments as I did my silly little habit of fiddling with my clothes again.
"What, Shay?" Dad asked again.
I took a deep breath. "Dad…why…I mean - what's that, under there?"
That's when dad finally whirled around and looked at me with his droopy brown eyes. His face was emotionless, but he kneeled down slowly and lifted up one of the pots of face-paint.
"You mean this?" he asked, a smile suddenly forming on his lips.
"Yeah, what is that? I found some of that yesterday, too."
"Ahh, nosey, aren't we, huh?" I didn't move as dad kneeled down where he was, but unusually he didn't come close to me this time. "Uhh, this is…it's face paint, Shaylee, didn't you read the label?" Dad laughed.
"Yes, I know that," I said, as a cracked a smile and half a giggle. "But what do have that for? You never wear anything on your face, dad."
"No…no I don't, you're right." Dad spoke very carefully now, his diction was spitting at me. He sighed and then stared at me, like he was giving me a command. "If you must know, daddy's going through, ah…I don't know…some sort of change."
That made my heart skip a beat. "What…What do you mean?"
"I don't know, like…I don't know – people change. When you grow up, you'll understand better. I'm getting bigger ideas, I'm on a roll and I feel like I can't stop. But you know what's so frustrating?" He paused as he raised his eyebrows at me. "Whenever I go to Gotham City, I get stopped all the time by those silly little people known as the, ah…cops…and they know everyone in this town, they have records. They can write my name down and boom…'Jack Napier, another crime.' That's why I'm getting the idea to wear disguises. If they don't know who I am, they can't catch me out. You see, Shaylee?"
"Yeah," I said, beaming.
I admired dad's cleverness very much. He was sneaky, but clever, and I thought that was brilliant. I wondered why he'd never told me all this before, though. He obviously hadn't been carrying this out for long, otherwise I would have noticed.
"Anyway, you'll understand more when you grow up, little girl," he said as he winked at me and rose to his feet again. He turned back around to sort out his clothes. "Right, Shay, you go get yourself some breakfast, get ready and then you can go off for a nice day of hell," Dad laughed. I groaned and gradually dragged myself off the bed. Just before I left the room, however, I felt dad touch my shoulder, making me naturally dart my eyes on his. "Don't tell your mother, about this, though," he whispered.
"Of course I won't," I said, obediently.
"Good girl. She'll just scream at me and tell me….I need to see a doctor, which I don't. I'm perfectly fine. Just fine. I'm doing what I need to do." He then leaned in closer to me, grinning. "She's the one who needs help, anyway, doesn't she? Huh? All that drinking." Then his smile faded as he touched my face, lightly. "What she's doing, Shaylee…that stuff she takes, that's much worse than your old man nicking something. Well, that's how I see it. Don't ever touch that stuff, it's taken over your mom's head, it's taken over her life."
"I know," I said, a little sadly.
There was a slight pause as dad moved away.
"Off you go then, clever clogs," he said, giving me a light nudge.
I did what he said and headed into the kitchen area. Then I carried out what I usually did every morning: made myself some cereal, with milk overflowing the bowl (that's the way I liked it) and then sat neatly in front of the television in the sitting room, and turning on the news. Yes, that's right, the news. I couldn't be doing with cartoons and kids' shows at that time. They all bored me to tears because they're "educational." Don't kids have enough education? If a kids' show wasn't educational, then they were usually so over the top or feature one of those silly boybands every girl at my school talks about. I'd much rather watch the news and witness what everyone's going through in Gotham. It gave me more of an insight to what dad does in that stupid city, especially if there was a story about a bank robbery or a shop burglary or something. From a young age, I was always fascinated by stories like this. My weirdness would make me examine the faces of all these depressed citizens very closely. Sometimes I laughed because they looked so silly, other times I would scoff and sarcastically respond to their desperate cries on the news, like, "We are absolutely heartbroken."
Dad was hardly ever on the news, strangely enough. I thought maybe because he did it all the time and people would be so bored of seeing him on the TV. Like I've said, he hardly ever got caught, which proves how dreadful the police in Gotham City actually are. They didn't even bother to come and find him. Dad was very smart, living here in the outskirts of Gotham instead of the actual city itself.
I was gravely disappointed when there was nothing like that on the news that morning. I don't even remember what was on there, but it certainly didn't keep my interest. I gulped down my cereal in seconds flat, after creating waves in it with my spoon and slugged down all the milk like I was a starving child. I was starving half the time, because mom hardly ever shopped to get food for us and if she did, she bought some of that horrible alcohol. Dad had to get food for me half the time and I because I was so hungry I never cared if it was stolen or not. I didn't believe he stole everything, we get rent money, ever since mom quit her studies and had me.
After I finished, I sat staring at the hallway through the open door for ages, with an empty bowl in front of me. I may have been thinking back to the strange situation the day before again, but I can't remember. Dad then came out of his bedroom, but he wasn't wearing one of his pretty suits, which slightly disappointed me. He looked like his typical self, with his floppy hair in front of his face. He came out like a teacher observing a class searching for trouble, walking very carefully. I saw him put something in his pocket, but I couldn't make out what it was. I hadn't noticed but I was gazing at him, not scared, but sort of lovingly.
That's when he caught me staring. "What's the matter, Shaylee?"
I flinched, quickly answering, "Nothing. Nothing."
"Is there something weird on me, hmm?"
"No. No. You look great."
Dad smiled at me before heading into the bathroom and locking it behind him. That's when I reluctantly got up and took my bowl back into the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, I heard a loud thump on the window, making me jump a mile.
"Shaylee!"
Oh damn it. I'd forgotten mom was still out there.
I saw her stood up and leaning on the window, looking absolutely awful. I was disappointed it wasn't raining outside. I frowned at her as she desperately banged on the window.
"Let me in, right now!" she shouted. Ignoring her, I raised my head to look past her, to notice the shed door wide open. I didn't see our poor dog in there, leaving me slightly disappointed again. I looked back at mom who was crying hysterically, but I just raised my eyebrows at her. She wasn't worth anything. "Shaylee! Please…" she whimpered. "Let me in. Right NOW!"
"I don't know where the key is," I lied.
"What?"
I didn't want to argue with her, because I knew I'd get nowhere. So with a little grin, I walked away from the window, hearing the sound of mom pounding the window and her muffled screaming behind me. I decided to be cheeky right then, I couldn't help it.
I could still hear her as I stood outside the bathroom door.
"Daddy?" I called, purposely making my voice sound childish.
Dad sighed. "What do you want, Shaylee?"
"Mom…mommy's shouting at me again because I won't get the key to let her in," I replied, trying to sound sweet and innocent.
"Oh, she wants to come inside, does she?" Dad chuckled. "Oh, well…I think she needs, ah, just a…bit more time to reflect on her behaviour." He started laughing. "I'll let her in when I'm finished in here, Shay, you get ready. It's not your responsibility after all, is it?"
"Thanks, daddy!" I giggled, as I skipped back into my tiny bedroom.
I got ready for school in two minutes flat, this time choosing my top that was patterned with a large diamond skull, which I got for my birthday that year from dad. I wore my favourite pair of black jeans. I made my way to the sitting room, where mom's stuff was on her dressing table, and I used her brush to make my hair look half decent. I straightened my clothes out, before putting my hair in a thick ponytail, using one of mom's bobbles. She hated me using her stuff, but if she got off her ass and actually got things for me to do it myself she wouldn't need to complain. She couldn't exactly stop me at that point anyway.
I then waited for a few, long moments, staring at myself in the mirror.
"Oh, what is your life Shaylee Jane?" I sighed.
It's a shame that reflections can't reply.
I just heard mom's muffled shouting and dad messing with things in the bathroom. I sighed heavily, before returning to my room and collecting most of my stuff, putting my drawing pad neatly in my backpack first of all along with my best pens. I didn't go anywhere without them. That would be a crime.
Drawing and creating my own worlds were the only things that kept me concentrated. The one, small thing that allowed me to set my mind free from all the banging inside my poor little head. I often doodled when dad was out and mom was drowning in a bottle in the next room. Art was the only lesson I truly loved in school. Funny thing, everyone was suddenly my best friend when we were in an art lesson.
No one was my best friend any other time, though.
But I didn't care. I liked being alone. I only liked being around people who were interested in the same things as me, which was no one. I guess that made me a little sad, but the people who didn't understand me didn't help at all.
I was a very strange young child. I was quiet, but if someone bothered me and pushed my buttons, I would get a surge of anger and then…well, you were in trouble. My mind tells me I have to yell, because I just want everything to shut up. It tells me to fight back. I can't control myself. The only person who can make me calm is dad.
I was what you'd consider to be a "tomboy", but to be honest, I still liked girly things. Well, not all girly things, but I liked to glam up now and then, especially when I got older. I hated all those pretty colours that most of the other girls wore, though. I loved to wear black and dark colours. I was so desperate to dye my hair like the older girls did and look ridiculously cool, but mom wouldn't let me. Of course. Dad said he'd let me do it when I was older. Right now my hair is blonde, with a tinge of black and red at the ends. I think it looks super trendy. But alas, as an eight-year-old, I was stuck with mom's boring, light brown hair, which was a pain to tie up because of its thickness.
I didn't like all "boyish" things. I hated sports because of my laziness and would never even try in sports class, but I loved all the crime-fighting stories on the news. It was very uncanny. Boys tend to have gross-out humour, which wasn't my sense of humour at all. I shared the same sense of humour as dad, which was…strange. I can't really say, I tended to laugh at things that weren't funny to normal people.
But I wasn't normal, and I knew it. I asked dad if my anger issues was a common thing, and he told me that only special children have that.
I didn't consider myself to be special at all.
School was no big deal to me, apart from Art class. The kids were no big deal to me either. They were all annoying hypocrites, which dad said you find everywhere. I didn't care about any of them, because they didn't even give me the time of day. Just because I'm different, I'm considered an outcast. Outcasts are the best. So why should I bother with them?
I'll shut up about it now. You get the idea, don't you?
So once I was prepared, I grabbed my backpack and headed into the hall, where dad had still not come out of the bathroom. I glanced into the kitchen, where mom's face had gone from the window, but I still heard her crying riotously.
The clock said 9:15. Damn it!
"Dad!" I called. I heard him moving in the bathroom, but he did not answer. "Dad!"
The door unlocked and dad entered the hallway, his shoulders hunched and was looking very carefully to where he stepped. He rubbed his eyes and then leaned on the wall.
"What?" he asked.
"I have to go," I replied, pointing at the clock.
Dad looked slowly up at the clock. "Ahh, yes. Aw, poor you." He came over and ruffled my hair, which I immediately straightened. Dad giggled slightly as he looked over into the kitchen. "God, that woman, honestly. She…never…shuts up," he grumbled. He then turned to me, smiling, showing me his unclean teeth. "Go on then, off you go, Shay, while I'll deal with the…commotion outside."
"Will you be in when I come home?" I asked, hoping and praying.
"Ahh, I might be." Dad kneeled down in front of me when he saw my disappointed face. "Look," he whispered, "if you want, I'll be home for when you finish school."
"Really?" I beamed at him.
"If you want."
I suddenly leaped on him without thinking. "Thanks, dad!"
"Hey, hey, hey, watch it…" he said, gently pushing me off him. "It's okay, you know."
"Sorry. Okay, well, I'll see you later."
"Bye, baby, try and have a good day if it's even possible!" Dad made his way into the kitchen.
"Oh, I'll try," I laughed, as I walked out the front door and into the grey little street I lived in.
The walk to school takes ten minutes. It's always the longest ten minutes of the day. I would walk past the same boring things I did every morning: the street of the block of flats we lived in and then a shortcut through a small field, which had a million silly stories attached to it. Apparently some ghost lives in the bushes and comes out at night and haunts Lucy Douglas's mom. See what I mean? This is how silly the kids were at my school. Believing such nonsense. I did believe, however, that many crazy things happened there. I'm not sure what, but crazy things happen everywhere.
My elementary school was called Little Hill Elementary. In Gotham Town, 'Little Hill' was the name for every school, the elementary, middle and high school. The elementary school was on the other side of the grey town, and it was shabby place, with rusty walls and two blocks that made up the entire place. The teachers were okay at best, you got your ones you could push around easily, the ones that went mad over the slightest things, and of course you got the teachers that spoke in that dreary monotone voice.
I arrived five minutes late for the first lesson. Oh, fantastic.
I managed to get to class without any other teachers passing me in the corridor, because I was super sneaky like that. Everyone stared at me when I entered the classroom, once again looking at me in disgust, as if I had interrupted something important. How amusing.
I walked in as if nothing was a big deal, and slumped in my chair, which was back far across the room, hardly near anyone else. I chucked my bag under the table and leaned forward with my arms folded, raising my eyebrows at my teacher, Miss Woodville, but we all called her Psycho Woodville. I longed for the day someone would actually call her that to her face.
"Nice of you to join us, Shaylee," she said. Some of the kids sniggered at me, while the geeks looked at me, impatiently.
I decided to wind her up as I couldn't be doing with her that day.
"Nice to be here, Miss Woodville," I said, purposely making myself sound sarcastic.
She shook her head while some of the popular girls still sneered at me. I just gave them a villainous glare, attempting to be intimidating.
"Kayley, Frankie, quiet please," Psycho Woodville snapped at two of the irritating girls in my class. Woodville then looked back at me. "So why are you late, Shaylee?"
"I had problems this morning, Miss Woodville," I said, sweetly.
"Problems? Problems big enough for you to be late once again to my first lesson?"
"Yes, actually."
That shut her up. It made the whole class shut up. Just how I like it.
Once Psycho Woodville knew she'd lost the argument, she continued the highly tedious English lesson. It wasn't long before the class were given tasks to do, but I could barely focus on anything. I spent most of the lesson with my head on the desk, fiddling with my special pen. Woodville didn't even come over to help me because she was too busy helping the nerdy kids.
I had too much on my mind to concentrate on English work. I couldn't stop thinking about mom and dad. How mom drank every day. She probably only wanted to come in that morning to gulp down the next drink. She was probably doing that right at that moment. I remembered what dad had done the day before, how he stuck up for me, despite being enraged with mom. Oh god. The anger was unbearable. No. No more anger, please. My mind traced back to that moment where my horror was unleashed. My heart was racing, and my mouth became dry as the memories overflowed my mind. I remembered my horrific shrieking, the dog barking and that loud bang.
Bang.
The memory hit me like a bullet, and I bashed my head hard against the desk.
This finally got someone's attention.
"Shaylee, are you alright?" asked Adam, the kid nearest to me.
My head shot up at him. "Yeah, yeah…I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah." I moved my head directly away from him when I heard my voice begin to shake. "Yeah."
At that moment, I heard Woodville's teacher voice come from the other side of the room.
"Is there a problem, Shaylee?" she asked.
I hadn't noticed but I'd started crying. I felt a tear stream down and I quickly flicked it away, putting my head in my arms again so no one could see me. I felt so embarrassed when I cried, especially now as the room went quiet.
"Shaylee?" Miss Woodville's voice drew nearer.
"I'm fine," I mumbled into my arms.
I then felt Woodville tower above me. I didn't dare look at her.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, touching my elbow. I flinched sharply and let out a loud sniffle, much to my embarrassment. "Would you like to be excused for a few moments?" Woodville's voice the soundest the nicest it had ever been. That's when I finally looked at her, furiously wiping my eyes. I hadn't even got up and moved, but I was breathing heavily. "Shaylee, would you like to go outside to calm yourself down for a moment?" she asked again.
I couldn't believe my luck.
"Yes, Miss Woodville," I said, as I hurriedly stood up, grabbing my bag.
"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."
"No!" I shouted, loudly, startling her. I saw some people in the class jump, others just watched with major interest. I had to stop myself from bringing out the monster, so I took a deep breath as I started walking towards the door. "I mean…I'd rather be one my own," I said as calmly as possible as I walked out of the classroom, shutting the door behind me.
I started speed-walking down the colourful corridors. I walked and walked until I found myself running. I ran until I felt my heart pumping out of my chest, my legs were almost aching and my bag was jumping on my back. Getting to the end of the corridor seemed like a lifetime, but when I finally reached there, I fell to my knees and allowed the tears to continue pouring out of my eyes. It sounds strange, but, I just cried. I didn't whimper. I didn't make a sound apart occasionally taking a deep breath, almost like I was meditating.
It was one of those rare times I had to cry to let all the anger and frustration out. I stained my watery eyes as I traced the ceiling. With my head leaning against the crusty wall, I sat just sat there for what seemed like an eternity. I tried to think back to happy memories, cheerful memories of dad spoiling me.
My biggest fear of someone catching me came true when I saw I figure walking down the other corridor which lead to the one I was at the end of. I hastily stood up and then took a closer look at the person walking in towards me. They were too short to be a teacher, but they were taller than me. They weren't walking very quickly, and as they came nearer, I saw that they were looking around the corridor desperately. When I saw it was a boy, I turned my face away to look at the floor, as I slid down the wall again.
He eventually walked down to where I was sitting, shuffling his feet around when he saw me. I still didn't want to look up at him, not while I was in such a state. I didn't recognise him anyway, he certainly didn't look like a boy in one of my classes. To my disappointment, he stopped in his tracks and stood above me. From the corner of my teary eye I could see him staring at me, awkwardly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
"Yeah, yeah, I am…" I replied, not looking up.
He shuffled his feet around more, irritatingly tapping his feet. The sound soon grated on me, and I started to get annoyed.
"What do you want?" I snapped, finally looking at him.
To my surprise, he wasn't taken aback. I eyed him up and down, carefully. I was very cautious of new people. Their presence just triggered how I acted towards them, which could sometimes be very ugly indeed if I didn't feel positivity. But then again, when was I ever positive. Not very much.
The boy looked older than me. He had floppy black hair, with unusual green eyes, and his fashion sense was scarily identical to mine, which flickered my interest. His face was long, with bushy eyebrows, but his persona yelled out mischief. I could always get a sense of what someone was like very quickly, immediately telling me how to act around a person. In his hand, he firmly gripped a creased piece of paper.
"I'm trying to find my first class," he explained.
"And you don't know where all the classes are by now?"
"This is my first day. I-I'm new here."
No wonder I didn't recognise him. I did a half laugh, folding my arms and I leaning my head against the wall.
"And no one's even bothered to escort you?" I sounded shocked but I knew I shouldn't be. The service at that school was awful.
"No," he replied in his monotone voice. "Mr…uh, what's the principal's name again?"
I suddenly beamed. "Mr. Useless?" I said.
I was so relieved when he started laughing. I laughed along with him, feeling randomly happy all of a sudden.
"You mean Mr. Boyd," I corrected myself, still giggling.
"Yeah him," the boy said. "He told me to go this way, and he gave me a note. See? But it's not helping me."
"Let me see." I stood up and practically snatched the thing off him. I read the note which said something about Mrs. Dresden being his teacher. That's when I knew. She taught the seventh grade, so I knew now that he was older than me. "Ah, you have Mrs. Dresden, you're in the wrong corridor, my friend." I flipped the note back into his face, but he didn't flinch. He actually looked kind of fascinated. I wasn't sure why, maybe it was my weird vocabulary for an eight-year-old.
I wasn't sure how to feel. This was one of the rare times a kid had actually been cool and sort of nice to me.
"Will you show me?" he asked, sort of awkwardly. "I don't know…the way, or anything."
I would never usually in my right mind help another kid out with anything, but I weirdly felt so friendly right then that I decided to try and be helpful for once in my crazy life.
"Sure," I replied, although I couldn't believe I just said it.
"Thank you so much," he said, gratefully.
So I directed him to the right corridor, which was the other side of the school (I had no idea how he'd not found his way there). I walk pretty fast, so he had trouble following me. I thought this was brilliant, a chance to get a few minutes out of such a boring class.
It took a while for him to strike up a conversation.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied. I'd completely forgotten I'd broke down crying in class. That horrible feeling had completely vanished from me.
He paused for a moment, so I looked at him, waiting for him to say something. I hated starting conversations.
"So, uh…what's this school like, then?" he asked, flipping his hair back. His voice was surprisingly deep for his age.
"I hate it," I said, making an expression of disgust. "What made you come to this dump?"
"Well, me and mom moved here a few weeks ago, so…"
"You came to Gotham Town? Why didn't you move to the city?"
"I don't know, but I hate it here already."
"Me too. All the kids here annoy me, it'll take you a while to get used to them. I've begged my mom to move to Gotham Elementary in Gotham City but she won't let me."
"Why?"
"I don't know, because she's awkward."
Before we knew it we were in the right corridor and outside Mrs. Dresden's classroom, the second door on the left.
"Here it is," I said, lifting my hand to the door, giving it a little display.
I looked at him, expecting him to walk in, but instead he looked down at the floor and started shuffling his feet again. My annoyed sigh made him pipe up.
"Do I just go in, then?" he asked.
"Well, yeah," I replied, laughing slightly. "You're not scared, are you?"
"No," he cut in, sharply.
"Go on then." I nodded my head towards the door, giving him a slight smirk.
He stood there stiff, until he jumped a mile when the door opened, revealing Mrs. Dresden, looking like the impatient cow she frequently was. He moved further to the side, almost out of her vision.
"Hi, Mrs. Dresden," I said, sweetly.
The boy sniggered when he heard me do my silly voice.
"Miss Napier," she screeched in her voice which sounded like nails being scraped on a blackboard. Hearing her ridiculous voice made us both hold back the laughter again. "Why are you out of class? What's with all the noise? You're disturbing my class."
"But Miss Woodville said I could be excused," I replied. I purposely acted silly, I couldn't help it. I fluttered my eyelashes and put my hands behind my back, pretending to act like a well-behaved schoolgirl, something I refused to be.
"Do you have a note?" she asked, sternly.
"No," I said, like it was obvious.
"Then you have no proof you can be out of lesson time."
"But she did say that."
"Go back to your lesson please, Miss Napier." She pointed her finger down the corridor like a pistol.
"But, Miss…"
"Back to class!"
"But, Miss, I have the new boy, here, I showed him to his class because he got lost."
I smirked at her, as I pulled him closer by his shirt, so she could see him clearly. He almost fell over because I yanked him so hard. Dresden looked completely flustered. Well, it was me who had done a favour, after all. It was something I never did.
"Oh, well," she said, putting her hand on her hip. "In that case, you better come in then. Chase Delancey, is it?"
"Yeah," he answered, still struggling not to burst into laughter. I put my hand over my mouth and scrunched up my face as I spluttered giggles into my hand.
"Yes, yes, I've been expecting you to be here," Mrs. Dresden said, as she stepped back to let him in. "Come in."
Chase stepped into the doorway before turning back to me and smiling.
"Thank you…uh…" he began, but his voice trailed off as he looked at me, uncertainly. I knew exactly what he wanted.
"Shaylee," I replied.
"Thanks, Shaylee."
"Okay, back to class with you, Miss Napier," Mrs. Dresden snapped at me.
"Okay, chill out."
"Mind your attitude, young lady!"
"Bye, Mrs. Dresden," I giggled, pleasantly, before quickly walking away again. As soon as I turned the corner, and heard her classroom door shut, I burst out into hysterical laughter. Her voice just cracked me up. My laughter echoed beautifully in the corridors as I headed back to Miss Woodville's room.
I entered the classroom still chuckling to myself. Once again I was stared at, and some of the other girls started giggling too. They weren't laughing with me, but I couldn't care less.
"Calmed down, have you, Shaylee?" Miss Woodville asked, glaring at me to be quiet. I didn't answer her, but instead just replied with a smirk. I was sick of people asking if I was okay. Luckily, she didn't bother me for the rest of the lesson.
I saw Chase again on the lunch break, whilst I was getting lunch in the canteen. He was sitting by himself, on the table in the farthest corner. He wasn't eating, but instead was absorbed in a drawing he was creating in his pad. I held my tray of food, staring at him in wonder. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. That vision of him sitting there, totally immersed in his drawing, still remains with me to this day. I'm grateful I have some beautiful visions of my past lingering in my head.
I was so busy looking at him that I didn't notice I was standing in someone's way. To my horror, it was one of the girls from my class, that cow Kayley.
"Hey, Napier, move it, will ya?!" she yelled, as she pushed me aside. I almost knocked over my food. She wasn't worth replying to, so I just sneered at her as she walked her rude ass away from me.
I couldn't help but sit on Chase's table. No one else was there, and for once in my life I felt kind of intrigued by a kid in school. As I sat down opposite him, he peered up and gave me a little smile, before going back to creating his art. I took a loud crunch from my apple as I leaned over to observe his drawing. He didn't even cover it up. It was an amazing picture of two bats, clawing each other to the death above some skyscrapers, which looked similar to the ones in Gotham City. It certainly outdid any high school student's drawing.
"That's so cool," I exclaimed.
"You like?" he asked, not looking up.
"I think it's awesome!"
"Aw, thanks."
I finished my apple in two minutes flat, before moving onto my Pepsi Cola and chicken sandwich, which I gnawed upon furiously. Crumbs went everywhere, which I swooped off the table.
"Wow, you're hungry," Chase said, as he finished off the bat's ear.
"I always am," I explained. "I barely eat at home."
"Why's that?"
"Well, my mom, she doesn't shop a lot, my dad has to get food for me most of the time, and mostly it's just stuff he likes. He likes seafood and stuff like that."
"It's better than living off fries." That's when he finally looked up at me, his fringe flopping over his right eye.
"Yeah, I guess," I replied, taking my last bite and brushing the crumbs off my hands. "But my mom just buys drinks."
"That's not so bad."
"It is when it's stuff I'm not allowed to drink," I laughed.
"Oh, right," he laughed with me. "You were right about the school, I'm not enjoying it at all. My teacher's voice grates on me."
"Yeah, she's a funny one, Mrs. Dresden. No one enjoys it here. Not even the teachers. They all hate each other. My dad says that even the people who smile every day have a secret hatred for something out there."
"He's right."
"He always right."
Chase smiled at me as he put his pad away back into his rucksack.
"You like drawing then, hmm?" I asked.
"It's my favourite thing in the world," he said, his expression glowing with delight.
"Mine too!" I cried.
"No way!" he said, as he zipped up his bag.
"Yeah! I love drawing, like what you do. I have drawings all over my wall at home. My dad is good at it, too."
"That's so cool," he beamed. "So is that what you want to do when you grow up?"
"Yeah, I think so," I said. "I'm not really good at anything else…well, at least not good at things people want me to be good at."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm good at causing trouble, which isn't what people want, right?"
"No."
And for the rest of the lunch break, we both just sat there and talked about stuff I could never talk about to anyone else, except for dad. He told me about his single mom, and how much of an asshole his dad was, after he beat his mom and so they had to move to Gotham Town to get away from him. I didn't talk much about mom and especially dad. He'd think I was lying if I told him about what dad got up to on a daily basis. We showed each other our art, and discovered we like a lot of the same things. He didn't even bring up the fact I was crying that morning when I first saw him, making me feel so relieved. I could almost hear our connection clicking. I'd never felt so happy in school before, and I'd only just met the damn boy.
And it was then I realised, if you want to get noticed in life, you have to make a move first. You can't cry like a baby for attention, you have to take action if you want people to notice you. I'd been in the shadows, hiding from everyone my entire life up to that point, allowing them to come into the shadows and tear the happiness out of me. I'd only ever been able to spoken to dad, and he was so erratic, like I said. Learning from him may not have been the best thing, in fact, it was completely not the right thing, but he was the only person that gave me some sort of loving attention. Suddenly, I'd found someone else I could relate to, not just with life, but with hobbies and just normal things. It was very strange to me, but I found myself loving it. The pain and anger from the day before and from the morning wouldn't dare come back to me now.
I wanted to punch the wall when the bell rang to go to the final class of the day. Chase looked just as unimpressed.
As we got up to leave, he said, "Well, I didn't think I'd make friends with a girl."
I wasn't offended, because the girls there were all stupid. "Hey, we aren't all bad you know!" I chuckled, giving him a little nudge.
"You want my house number? Then we can stay in touch."
"We don't have a phone," I said, sadly, flinging my bag onto my shoulder. "Besides, I'll see you around in school, won't I?"
"Yeah, okay."
"See you around, Chase."
"Yeah, see you around, tiger."
"Tiger?"
"Yeah, I call people 'tiger' if they're cool."
"I'm flattered."
We both shared friendly laughter before departing to our different classes. The lesson I had was Art, which just made it even better. I ignored the fact that the girls from before were whispering and giggling as they made glances at me. The task was to create a painting of an animal.
So I painted a tiger.
I felt proud of myself at the end of that day. I didn't get a single detention!
I ran almost all the way home, because I just knew dad wouldn't break his promise and he'd be there, waiting for me. My bag was heavy on back, so I threw it far across the hallway when I got in, and it landed with a loud thump against the bathroom door. I was panting as I rushed to slip my shoes off and take my ponytail out, allowing my hair to fall free.
"Dad?!" I called, as I chucked my shoes off my feet.
I got no answer, but I heard the TV playing, so I knew he was in the sitting room, much to my pleasure.
"Dad?! I'm home!"
I put the bobble around my wrist and slowly opened the sitting room door, where dad was slouching on the sofa, like any typical dad. He looked shattered, he was holding the remote and his eyes were plastered the soap opera on screen. Dad looked like he'd been sweating, his hair greasy and his shoes were carelessly left out on the floor. He even looked like he'd been crying, slightly, but I didn't dare ask him about it. I wasn't stupid.
"I'm home, dad," I said, quietly, peeping through the door.
He shot his eyes in my direction, as he sat up slightly.
"Afternoon, Shaylee baby," he said, plainly.
"What's up, dad?" I said, coming into the room, shutting the door behind me.
"Oh nothing…nothing at all. Just having a little chill time. I'm always running around, aren't I? Makes me tired."
"I don't know how you do it, daddy."
"Ahh well, I'm just full of energy, I suppose. You have to have all this energy when you're running away from those moraines."
I giggled under my breath and then we both paused, as dad pulled his hair back slightly and smiled that familiar crafty grin at me.
"So how was your day at the hell hole, then?" he asked me.
I smiled widely as I remembered my very different kind of school day. "Oh, dad, I actually had a good day!"
He stared at me with pure disbelief. "Did you really?"
"Yes!"
He didn't take his eyes off me, staring at me curiously. He then patted the seat of the sofa and beckoned me with his hand.
"Come here, come sit with me." I did so, and I looked up at him with glistening eyes of excitement. "What made your day so…special, then?" he asked.
"Well, I met someone today…"
Dad suddenly flinched and held his hands up in front of him.
"Whoa-ho-ho-ho…you met someone?" He started laughing. "My darling, you are only eight years old!"
"Eww, dad!" I yelled, as I hit him on the arm. "I didn't even say it was a boy! It's not a stupid boyfriend! Eww!"
"It is a boy, though, isn't it? You don't hang around with girls, which I fully understand, by the way…"
"Well, yeah, it is…"
"Ha! I knew it!"
"Dad!"
"Alright, I'll keep my mouth shut. Tell me, what was so special about him, hmm?"
"He loves art, like me, dad," I said, enthusiastically. Dad just nodded his head at everything I told him. "He's a bit older though, in the seventh grade, he's called Chase. He was actually nice to me. I sat with him at lunch and we spoke the whole time."
"Hmm, I see, I see. Well, isn't that just lovely? Finally, my daughter's talking to somebody other than her old dad!"
We both laughed then, as I jokingly hit him again.
After we'd calmed down, I looked around the room, listening out for mom in the kitchen or something. I didn't hear a sound.
"Where's mom?" I asked dad, who just grinned at the question.
"Ahh, she's done one."
I felt my heart drop. "What? Why?"
"It's nothing to worry about, Shay. I just went a bit…mad at her. But it was her fault. Probably down at the bar at the moment, Shaylee, you know what your mother's like."
"Oh."
"Yeah, you know what I think about drinkers."
I then saw the hatred glisten in dad's eyes, making me edge away slightly. I knew he was thinking about his own father. The loathing he had for the man was unbelievable. He said to me the only person he ever loved growing up was his mom, and now she's passed away, I'm the only person he cares about. He doesn't even care about mom, not like he used to.
I gulped. "Dad?"
He looked at me with a blank expression.
"Dad…did you argue?"
"Only because I left her outside last night she went crazy at me. I thought I was doing her a favour, but she's so self-absorbed she just went off crazy and left me alone. I didn't even do anything today, Shaylee."
"What?" I was shocked.
"Yeah, she's made me so mad I didn't even bother going out today. Daddy's had…a bit of a shit day. I haven't liked it…at all. But listen, Shay, tomorrow I'll go and get you some, uh, money, okay? Then you can spend it on getting yourself something you want."
"Really?"
Dad then managed to smile, as he gently touched my cheek, making my heart smile. "Yeah…anything for you."
I leaped on him and hugged him tight. I thought he was going to push me away, but to my surprise he actually held me close. I thought I heard him sniffle softly. As I hugged him, I noticed a tinge of that white face paint on the side of his neck, making me very curious, but again, judging on his mood, I didn't dare ask him about it.
"Thanks, dad," I squeaked.
"Not a problem, princess."
I told you dad cared about me. He may seem like he doesn't care about anything, but he did care about me. He did have some sort of love in his heart. Well, at least that time. I know I keep saying this, and you may not believe me, but, he was a good dad to me. He is still is, I swear... but as time went by he got angrier and his crimes became more frequent as I got older. I still was only eight at the time. It was frequent then, but not like it is now. What he does now is beyond extreme, but that information is for me to know, and you do find out.
