Chapter 1
The next morning was emotionally unbearable. A heavy cloud of sorrow had settled inside the house, creeping into the rooms, and into our hearts. Mommy was the only one not effected. She floated around the house, her face glowing, her makeup carefully applied with perfect precision. She hunched over a cup of coffee, smiling, as if a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. I flashed a false smile at her direction, and plopped down at the table, grabbing a blueberry muffin from the wicker basket in the middle of the table. Mommy looked up and smiled.
"Good morning Skye," she sang as she stood and went to pour herself another cup of coffee from inside the kitchen. I stared at her blankly, not returning the greet.
My mother was beautiful, I had to admit. Her auburn curls hung loosely at her shoulders, accenting the graceful facial features in her face. Her hazel eyes that showed specks of honey, glowed, and expressed every emotion that she could show. Her smile was contagious, but not this morning. I bit into my muffin, and looked down at the oak table.
"Where's Daddy?" I asked softly, looking up into the kitchen. Mommy's smile froze, and slowly melted into a frown.
"I don't care where your father is," she snapped, and poured another cup. An arrow of pain shot through my heart, making me wince. She smiled again, and sat down. I leaped up. I couldn't stand being next to her.
"What's wrong?" she asked innocently, cocking her head to the side.
"Nothing, I'm leaving for school," I muttered, and picked up my backpack, and slung it over my shoulders.
"Do you want me to give you a ride to school?" Mommy asked, standing up. She had never offered me a ride before. I gave her a glare, then turned to the front door.
"No, I'll walk," I said coolly, and opened the door.
"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly, following me. I turned to her sharply. She had never once been so concerned about me.
"I said, 'No,'" I snapped, and grabbed my house key from the hook beside the door. I ran out onto the street, and folded my hands across my chest.
"Skye! Wait up!" Bradley Collington called from behind me. I stopped, and waited for him to catch up with me.
"Hey," he said, breathless from catching up with me. I smirked, and continued to walk ahead, my head lowered.
Brad had been my next door neighbor since we were both six years old. We used to go to each other's houses, and play cowboys and Indians. He looked deeply into my face, and saw something that alarmed him.
"What wrong?"
"It's a long story,"
"Make it short," he said, and shrugged. I sighed.
"My parents are getting a divorce," I said, and stopped walking. He stopped, and looked down, scratching his black hair.
"I'm sorry. I never expected it. They always looked happy to me," he said softly, and looked up.
"Neither did I," I muttered, and started for school. We didn't talk about it, or anything else for that matter. It was a cold, windy day that September morning. I pulled my coat collar to my neck, and stepped inside the school building. The roar of talking and laughter erupted into my ears, surprising me. Soon, my best friends Mallorie, Jenna, and Veronica rushed in front of me, arms linked together, blocking the road to my locker.
"Skye, we're so sorry. We just heard the news," Veronica breathed, smiling and looking at her girlfriends for added sympathy. I looked at Brad, who shrugged.
"How is that possible if I've only told one person?" I asked, shoving them out of my way, and heading to my locker. "See yah later," Alex said, and waved. I smiled, and opened my locker.
"Well," Mallorie chimed in, stepping next to me. "Your Mom told Mrs. Baker, who told Mr. Baker, who told Mrs. Myers at the drugstore, who told Sally, who told her Mom, who told my Mom, and then told me," she said quickly in a blur. I shoved my backpack into the locker and slammed it loud and hard. All three girls jumped.
"Well, I can see who all the gossip starters are around here," I muttered, holding my books protectively against my chest. They followed like a flock of birds.
"If you need to talk about it, you know, we'll always be here for you," Jenna said, smiling.
"Thanks," I said softly, and atrolled to class.
All day long, everybody came up to me to console me and feel sympathy for me, feeling pity for the girl whose parents' were divorcing. At one point in the day, the counselor, Mrs. Bridges, called me up to her office.
"Skye, good morning," she greeted with a big exaggerated smile. I smirked, and plopped in the black leather chair in front of her desk. It squeaked underneath me. She laced her fingers together, and lay them atop of her desk.
"Your mother has just called, and told me the . . . unfortunate news," she said, showing eyes full of sympathy. I had had enough of sympathy for the day. I looked away, my brown hair flinging behind me. "Since we have a divorce support group here, I was wondering if you would like to join, and talk about your issues and feelings." She slid a description card across the desk over to me. I turned my head sharply and looked at her.
"I. . .don't . . . need . . . to . . . talk about it!" I exploded, leaping out of the chair and the out of the office. I head Mrs. Bridges sigh as I stormed out of her office. I flew down the hallway, and into the girls' restroom. I braced myself against the sink, and stared back at the image in the mirror.
My dark brown eyes had turned darker from the frustration and the anger I had contained inside myself. My hair lay gently 2 or 3 inches lower than my shoulders, now looking like a tangled mess. A cold expression was pasted over my face, as if never to be removed. I can never be happy because of them, no, not them, her, I thought. I turned away from the mirror, and decided to go back to class. I slipped in quietly, and endured the last of the torment of the day.
Walking home with Brad was relaxing. He talked about the usual: how he almost beat up a kid because he was making smart remarks in PE, how he failed his math test, and how Wendy Parker, one of the pretties girls in the Junior class, had asked him out. I smiled, and tried to listen attentively.
"That's great," I commented as happily as I could. He smiled weakly, and headed into his driveway.
"Tomorrow. Same bat time, same bat place, same bat channel," we shouted in unison, as he stepped into his house. I laughed, and unlocked the door.
Mommy was lying on the couch, a cold washcloth placed on her forehead. I dropped my stuff, and headed directly to the stairs.
"Can't you say hello?" Mommy's voice drifted up to me from the living room. I slowly turned to her.
"What's wrong with you?" I snapped, going into the kitchen to grab a small snack.
"Oh, just an emotional attack, that's all," she said, stifling back a fake sob. "At least, that's what Mrs. Baker thinks."
"Who gives a crap what Mrs. Baker thinks," I flared, and headed to the stairs carrying a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.
"Skye Victoria Lawrence!" Mommy cried, sitting up. I looked back at her, then headed to my room. I sat down my snack, and crept into Daddy and Mommy's room. The first thing I noticed immediately, that the closet was open, and all of Daddy's clothing had been taken out. I walked in further, and saw that most of his things were gone: The gifts I had given him for Father's day, the pictures he cherished most, and other such memorabilia and items he owned. I sucked in my breath, looked around the room one last time to see if I was only imagining it, and ran out of the room.
"Where is he!" I screamed, leaping over to the couch. Mommy's eyes snapped open.
"Who are you talking about?" she asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
"Who else would I be talking about!" I shouted. She winced, and put her hand to her ear.
"He moved out last night," she replied, closing her eyes again and shaking her head.
"Last night?" I whispered, shocked. "He didn't even say good-bye."
"What was that dear?" Mommy sang loudly, looking up.
"Nothing," I muttered slowly, and headed back to my room. I sat down on my bed, nibbling at the cookies, and sipping the glass of milk. I stared at the wall ahead of me, then sighing. Tears hadn't welled up in my eyes. They stayed trapped somewhere, until the time was necessary for them to burst out into the open air and wet my cheeks. I brought the plate and now empty glass down into the kitchen, and heard a familiar voice talking to Mommy. It was Mrs. Baker. The stout, old woman sat in the easy chair next to the couch, as Mommy babbled on about something insignificant. Mrs. Baker turned to me.
"Why, hello Skye dear," she said, and walked over to hug me. I kept my hands at my sides. The woman had never hugged me before, nor paid any attention to me. She reeked of her favorite talcum powder, which she had overdone this morning. Mommy looked like she could burst out into tears, but sniffled, and replaced her fake sadness with a smile.
"Your looking better, recovering so quickly I see," I snickered, looking at Mommy with my uncontrollable stare. She shifted her eyes away guiltily.
"Yes, I'm feeling much better," she said.
"I'm glad," I snapped, and turned away. I heard Mrs. Baker mutter something to Mommy.
"Why, I've never seen such a rude child in my life." I turned around, and stared at her hard.
"You try to deal with a divorce you old witch!" I screamed.
"Skye!" Mommy screeched, leaping off of the couch. I ran to my room, and slammed the door behind me, leaning up against it and locking it quickly.
"Skye Victoria! You come out of this room right this instant and apologize to Mrs. Baker immediately!" she shouted from outside the door.
"No! I hope the old woman rots in hell!" I screamed back at her, and ran over to the bed. Mommy tried turning the doorknob. She realized that it was locked. She grunted, and walked back downstairs to apologize for me.
"I'm so sorry Mrs. Baker, I really don't know what has gotten into her," Mommy shouted purposely for my ears to hear. I heard Mrs. Bakers' loud and obnoxious sobs. Soon afterwards, she left, her eyes dried, a sure small smile back on her lips. Mommy made one last attempt to talk to me.
"Skye, please come out, I'm sorry, really I am. Mrs. Baker didn't mean what she said. She said that she's sorry, and understands what you are going through," she said softly and caringly, as if she actually cared, I thought. I sighed, and opened the door.
"That's my girl," she said, and hugged me. I kept my hands at my sides. She pulled away after a long moment, and stared at me.
"You've changed," she commented, looking me up and down.
"I grew up," I snapped, and turned away from her. "I'm going over to Brad's house," I said, picking up my baseball glove as I walked outside. I knocked on his door, and held up the glove.
"Need to throw a few fast balls," I said. He nodded understandably, and ran to get his glove. He shut the door behind him, and we started. I threw like crazy, making my arm ache, but it had felt good to relieve anger tension.
"God, she infuriates me," I fumed, throwing a fast ball into his glove. He shook his hand when it landed.
"I can tell," he said, and threw it back. I explained to him the afternoon, and what had just happened recently.
"Man, people keep prying," he commented.
"Yeah, and I'm about to kick someone's butt if they don't stop," I muttered to myself. After my arm was sore, I called it a night. I went inside, and slithered up to my room, putting on my pajamas and slipping into bed. Mommy came up to kiss me goodnight.
"Hopefully we won't have a bad day like this one again," she said optimistically. I turned to the wall, and rolled my eyes, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
"Goodnight, and let better days come," she said, and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes, and waited for her to leave to wipe off her sticky lipstick from my forehead. "Goodnight," she said from the door, and closed it behind her. I wiped the kiss away, wiping it on my bed sheets, and closed my eyes for sleep.
The morning did go better, because we didn't speak a word to each other. She sipped her coffee, as I nibbled on a muffin. Once I had finished, I grabbed my things, and repeated another miserable day of school. Brad stood on the porch, waiting for me. I smiled, and walked with him to school.
"Your arm hurt?" he asked. I lifted it. It ached a little, but it didn't bother me much. I shrugged, and he nodded.
"When's your first date with Wendy Parker?" I asked. He smiled devilishly.
"Tonight I'm takin' her out to dinner," he said, and smiled at something he was thinking about.
"You're not thinking about . . . you know," I sputtered.
"Maybe," he said, and winked. I gasped playfully.
"Not Brad Collington! Not the good kid on the block!" I placed my hand over the base of my throat. He laughed, and shook his head.
"I just wanna get to know her, that's all," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Is that OK?"
"Yeah, just don't get too happy with her. Her dad's the sheriff," I pointed out. He looked at me, worry concealed in his eyes. He sighed heavily.
"OK, I get the point," he said, holding up his hands. I smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes.
"How were things last night?" he asked cautiously. I shrugged, and began to tell him the events of the night before. He laughed when I called the old woman a 'witch.'
"Wow," he said, holding his stomach from the ache of laughter. I sighed, and chuckled.
"When I did it, I was so angry, and didn't mean for it to be funny, but now when I think about it, I laugh," said I, smiling broadly. He let out an exasperated chuckle. Behind us, we heard a giggle. We turned around, and saw Michelle Trachney, Alyssa Broadson, and Laura Skimpsky clustered together. I looked at Alex.
"Oh, hi Skye, we were just talking about you," Michelle piped up, her light and airy tone fringing my nerves. I smirked, and turned around and started to walk again.
"You know," Laura contributed. "Ever since your dad left you and your mother, he's been talking to my daddy a lot lately." Her southern accent echoed through the street. I continued to walk forward. "He said that he's glad that he left, because he don't love his family no more." I turned around sharply. All girls giggled. I looked at Brad, who stared at me with cautious eyes, and I walked over to them.
"Laura dearest," I said, mimicking her southern tone. She glared at me, like she was trying to burn the clothes off my body with her eyes. I stepped up closer to her, her face inches from mine. I raised my eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't want to take back what you said? Because you might want to think about your own trashy mother," I said, recalling stories from when I was younger, listening to Mommy talk to her girlfriends about 'the whore on wheels', Laura's mother. Her face turned beet red.
"Well, at least my family ain't gettin' a divorce," she sneered. My nerves snapped.
"All right bitch, let's get it on!" I screamed, and lunged forward, balling my hands into fists. I took a swing, and punched her straight in the right cheek. She screamed out. Brad came behind me, and grabbed my arms, holding them back. Michelle and Alyssa stepped up, seeing if anything had been damaged. The bruise began to appear quickly, making the girls gasp.
"That's going to take a lot of cover up," Alyssa concluded, looking my way hatefully. I smirked.
"You stupid bitch! You're going to hear from me!" she screamed, touching her cheek gingerly, wincing in pain. I wanted to run and wipe away all of her heavily caked makeup with my fists, but Brad held me back. He grabbed my waist, and lifted me and put in the other direction, shoving his arm in front of me to block me if I happened to lunge at Laura for another attack.
"You shut your dirty trap Laura, or I'll let her go and let her tear your face out," Brad warned, narrowing his eyes at them. She repeated his action.
"Don't think this is the end Lawrence," Laura warned, and turned around, beginning to cry. I grunted, and Brad pushed me towards the school.
"You're in deep crap," he said, almost as if he was disgusted. I growled angrily.
"I've been in knee deep," I muttered, and started on the path to school. After minutes of silence, Brad came up with something to say.
"You had a pretty good right hook on her there," he said. I turned to him, and we started to laugh, laughing so hard, are stomachs both ached. I sighed, and stepped inside the school.
Once we had entered, the whole school erupted into silence, watching me and Brad enter. Soon, it broke out into tiny whispers, some loud enough for me to hear. I gave them an evil glare, which made them back off. I walked to my locker, said good-bye to Brad, and opened, sensing that the dynamic trio of friends that I had would soon appear next to me.
"Skye," someone called behind me, just as I had opened my locker. I turned around slowly, and saw Brian Langton. I smiled.
"Hi," I said, smiling. He walked closer to me.
"Uhh, word around the school is that you slugged Laura Skimpsky a good one," he said, walking with me to class. I nodded.
"Damn straight I did," I said proudly, passing a cluster of freshman who looked at me fearfully. I looked up at Brian.
He stood 6 feet tall, with sandy blond hair, and hazel eyes. His lips were the perfect shade of pink, and his skin tone was almost pale. I always thought that he was attractive, but thought nothing of it. Suddenly, I was getting nervous around him.
"Congratulations," he said, taking my hand and shaking it roughly. He held it a bit longer than I expected. I smiled, and took my hand away from his slowly. He smiled, and turned down the hall again. I looked down at the floor.
"I'm sorry about your parents," he said softly, looking into my eyes.
"Thanks," I said nervously, words trapped in my throat.
"Sometimes parents are so selfish, they only think of themselves, and then they remember they had a child," he added, looking down. I sighed, and closed my eyes, feeling a yawn coming on.
"You look tired, are you OK?" Brian asked, tilting my chin up so that he could see me clearly. I nodded, and then yawned.
"Why are you so tired?"
"Mom kept me up last night," I muttered, remembering that she was up listening to her rock music, a bottle of whiskey in her hand, later I heard her drop it.
"Ah," he said and nodded understandingly. I shrugged, and appeared in front of my classroom.
"Wanted to make sure that you got to class OK without being harassed," he said, when I was about ask him. I smiled.
"Thanks."
"Anytime," he muttered, and waved once he was leaving. My hand went up in a quick wave, and entered the class room. I sat down in my seat, and wondered why Brian had come up to me earlier.
During the walk home, I thought about it even more, using reasonable deduction. Brad didn't notice. He was too busy babbling on about Wendy. I answered with a nod, or a "Hmm."
Once I had stepped inside the house, I mumbled a hello to my mother, and ran directly to my room, my eyes focused ahead. I threw the door open, and plopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
"SKYE!" Mommy screeched, her voice cracking. I looked at the door, and stood up, walking downstairs to the living room. Mommy was sitting in her easy chair, rocking slowly back and forth. Once she had seen me, she leaped up.
"We need to talk, really badly," she exaggerated, lurching forward. I plopped down on the couch.
"What about?" I asked, crossing my legs. She stood and paced around the room, her hands folded behind her back.
"I just got a disturbing call from Caroline Skimpsky," she said, looking at me. A small impish smile crept on my face. "She informed me on what happened this morning, as you all ready know, because you were involved. How could you do such a thing!" she tossed her hands into the air. I shrugged. She stared at me, trying to she what had changed about me.
"What's happened to you? Where did my darling daughter Skye go?" she inquired softly, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. I didn't answer. I stood up, and stared towards my room slowly. "Are those real tears?" I asked.
"Skye, what are you doing? Skye? Skye! You come right back here and talk to me! Skye!" she screamed, as if her life depended on it. I didn't turn back to her. I trudged up the stairs slowly, holding the balustrade. "You're grounded young lady! You're lucky Mrs. Skimpsky doesn't call the police on you!" she screamed, finally bursting out into sobs. I shrugged, and walked into my room, just as my phone rang. I walked over to it, and answered it quickly.
"Hello?" I asked, sitting down on my bed.
"Hi, it's me Brian," he greeted. I sighed.
"Hi Brian."
"What's wrong? You sound depressed," he noted.
"Another argument," I said dully.
"Oh, sorry," he said.
"So what's up?" I asked, curling up against the fluffy cream colored pillows.
"Nothing. Umm, Skye, I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner sometime or do something together," he said, using all of the courage that he had to ask. I smiled.
"That'd be great," I paused, hearing Mommy scream something to me downstairs. "How about now?" I asked quickly, hearing Mommy's footsteps in the hallway. I leaped off my bed and locked the door.
"Right now?" he asked. I nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Is it OK with your Mom?"
"Oh yes, yes it's OK," I said quickly but desperately, wanting to get out of the house. He sighed.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked, clearing his throat. Mommy pounded against the door, begging me to open it and talk to her.
"Surprise me," I said, craning my neck.
"OK. Pick you up at 4:00."
"OK gotta go bye," I said quickly, and slammed the phone down on the cradle. I turned to the door, and let Mommy in, falling on her face from pounding on the door.
"Finally," she muttered. She regained her composure and straightened out her clothes.
"What do you want!" I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. She furrowed her eyebrows.
"We need to talk Skye. You've changed. Ever since the separation, you've been . . . different. What's wrong baby?" she asked, coming to hug me. I stepped out of her path.
"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Talk to me honey."
"You wonder why I've changed," I mumbled. Her eyes widened.
"You're putting all of the blame on me, aren't you?" she asked, extending her hands. I backed away. "Well, it was his decision too!" I leaped toward her sharply. She whimpered.
"I heard the whole conversation that night . . . Mommy. He didn't want it. He truly loved you, and you didn't repay him for an ounce of that love. I despise your mother. Down to your very bone, I despise you. Get out of my sight. You make me sick," I turned around, my hair lightly slapping her face. She gasped, opened her mouth, closed it, and stormed out of the room, crying.
"Where are you Rick? Come and teach your child some respect!" she shouted, sniffling. I closed my eyes, and plopped down on my bed. I picked up the phone, and pressed the first speed dial number, which was Brad's.
"Hey, what's up?" he asked.
"Hey, can you do me a favor?" I asked.
"What is it?"
"I need you to keep an eye on my mother for me. I'm going out," I said.
"I don't get it, why?"
"Mom's outta control. She's screaming at me, wondering why I've changed, and stuff like that. Can you do it for me?" I asked.
"I can only do it after 8. My date with Wendy is tonight."
"Oh, shoot, I forgot. OK, well, I'm going to have my phone with me. Call me when you get home if I'm not there," I said.
"OK," he said, sighing. "Where are you going?"
"Out to dinner with Brian," I said, not revealing much. He chuckled.
"What?" I cried. He laughed harder.
"Sorry, just found that a little funny," he muttered, and calmed himself down.
"Yeah, just shut up. Can you do it for me?" I asked annoyingly.
"Yeah, I can. I'll talk to you later. Gotta get ready," he boasted. I rolled my eyes.
"Whatever," I said, and hung up. I looked over at my mirror, and saw that my hair was a mess. I ran a brush through it, and sat on my bed, reading a magazine. I looked at the clock. 3:55. Brian was surely on his way. I opened my bedroom door, looked out into the hallway, and crept out of the house, grabbing fifty dollars and my house key. I sat on the steps waiting for his red Camaro to appear down the street. Once it did, I leaped over to it, and opened the door.
The next morning was emotionally unbearable. A heavy cloud of sorrow had settled inside the house, creeping into the rooms, and into our hearts. Mommy was the only one not effected. She floated around the house, her face glowing, her makeup carefully applied with perfect precision. She hunched over a cup of coffee, smiling, as if a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. I flashed a false smile at her direction, and plopped down at the table, grabbing a blueberry muffin from the wicker basket in the middle of the table. Mommy looked up and smiled.
"Good morning Skye," she sang as she stood and went to pour herself another cup of coffee from inside the kitchen. I stared at her blankly, not returning the greet.
My mother was beautiful, I had to admit. Her auburn curls hung loosely at her shoulders, accenting the graceful facial features in her face. Her hazel eyes that showed specks of honey, glowed, and expressed every emotion that she could show. Her smile was contagious, but not this morning. I bit into my muffin, and looked down at the oak table.
"Where's Daddy?" I asked softly, looking up into the kitchen. Mommy's smile froze, and slowly melted into a frown.
"I don't care where your father is," she snapped, and poured another cup. An arrow of pain shot through my heart, making me wince. She smiled again, and sat down. I leaped up. I couldn't stand being next to her.
"What's wrong?" she asked innocently, cocking her head to the side.
"Nothing, I'm leaving for school," I muttered, and picked up my backpack, and slung it over my shoulders.
"Do you want me to give you a ride to school?" Mommy asked, standing up. She had never offered me a ride before. I gave her a glare, then turned to the front door.
"No, I'll walk," I said coolly, and opened the door.
"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly, following me. I turned to her sharply. She had never once been so concerned about me.
"I said, 'No,'" I snapped, and grabbed my house key from the hook beside the door. I ran out onto the street, and folded my hands across my chest.
"Skye! Wait up!" Bradley Collington called from behind me. I stopped, and waited for him to catch up with me.
"Hey," he said, breathless from catching up with me. I smirked, and continued to walk ahead, my head lowered.
Brad had been my next door neighbor since we were both six years old. We used to go to each other's houses, and play cowboys and Indians. He looked deeply into my face, and saw something that alarmed him.
"What wrong?"
"It's a long story,"
"Make it short," he said, and shrugged. I sighed.
"My parents are getting a divorce," I said, and stopped walking. He stopped, and looked down, scratching his black hair.
"I'm sorry. I never expected it. They always looked happy to me," he said softly, and looked up.
"Neither did I," I muttered, and started for school. We didn't talk about it, or anything else for that matter. It was a cold, windy day that September morning. I pulled my coat collar to my neck, and stepped inside the school building. The roar of talking and laughter erupted into my ears, surprising me. Soon, my best friends Mallorie, Jenna, and Veronica rushed in front of me, arms linked together, blocking the road to my locker.
"Skye, we're so sorry. We just heard the news," Veronica breathed, smiling and looking at her girlfriends for added sympathy. I looked at Brad, who shrugged.
"How is that possible if I've only told one person?" I asked, shoving them out of my way, and heading to my locker. "See yah later," Alex said, and waved. I smiled, and opened my locker.
"Well," Mallorie chimed in, stepping next to me. "Your Mom told Mrs. Baker, who told Mr. Baker, who told Mrs. Myers at the drugstore, who told Sally, who told her Mom, who told my Mom, and then told me," she said quickly in a blur. I shoved my backpack into the locker and slammed it loud and hard. All three girls jumped.
"Well, I can see who all the gossip starters are around here," I muttered, holding my books protectively against my chest. They followed like a flock of birds.
"If you need to talk about it, you know, we'll always be here for you," Jenna said, smiling.
"Thanks," I said softly, and atrolled to class.
All day long, everybody came up to me to console me and feel sympathy for me, feeling pity for the girl whose parents' were divorcing. At one point in the day, the counselor, Mrs. Bridges, called me up to her office.
"Skye, good morning," she greeted with a big exaggerated smile. I smirked, and plopped in the black leather chair in front of her desk. It squeaked underneath me. She laced her fingers together, and lay them atop of her desk.
"Your mother has just called, and told me the . . . unfortunate news," she said, showing eyes full of sympathy. I had had enough of sympathy for the day. I looked away, my brown hair flinging behind me. "Since we have a divorce support group here, I was wondering if you would like to join, and talk about your issues and feelings." She slid a description card across the desk over to me. I turned my head sharply and looked at her.
"I. . .don't . . . need . . . to . . . talk about it!" I exploded, leaping out of the chair and the out of the office. I head Mrs. Bridges sigh as I stormed out of her office. I flew down the hallway, and into the girls' restroom. I braced myself against the sink, and stared back at the image in the mirror.
My dark brown eyes had turned darker from the frustration and the anger I had contained inside myself. My hair lay gently 2 or 3 inches lower than my shoulders, now looking like a tangled mess. A cold expression was pasted over my face, as if never to be removed. I can never be happy because of them, no, not them, her, I thought. I turned away from the mirror, and decided to go back to class. I slipped in quietly, and endured the last of the torment of the day.
Walking home with Brad was relaxing. He talked about the usual: how he almost beat up a kid because he was making smart remarks in PE, how he failed his math test, and how Wendy Parker, one of the pretties girls in the Junior class, had asked him out. I smiled, and tried to listen attentively.
"That's great," I commented as happily as I could. He smiled weakly, and headed into his driveway.
"Tomorrow. Same bat time, same bat place, same bat channel," we shouted in unison, as he stepped into his house. I laughed, and unlocked the door.
Mommy was lying on the couch, a cold washcloth placed on her forehead. I dropped my stuff, and headed directly to the stairs.
"Can't you say hello?" Mommy's voice drifted up to me from the living room. I slowly turned to her.
"What's wrong with you?" I snapped, going into the kitchen to grab a small snack.
"Oh, just an emotional attack, that's all," she said, stifling back a fake sob. "At least, that's what Mrs. Baker thinks."
"Who gives a crap what Mrs. Baker thinks," I flared, and headed to the stairs carrying a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.
"Skye Victoria Lawrence!" Mommy cried, sitting up. I looked back at her, then headed to my room. I sat down my snack, and crept into Daddy and Mommy's room. The first thing I noticed immediately, that the closet was open, and all of Daddy's clothing had been taken out. I walked in further, and saw that most of his things were gone: The gifts I had given him for Father's day, the pictures he cherished most, and other such memorabilia and items he owned. I sucked in my breath, looked around the room one last time to see if I was only imagining it, and ran out of the room.
"Where is he!" I screamed, leaping over to the couch. Mommy's eyes snapped open.
"Who are you talking about?" she asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
"Who else would I be talking about!" I shouted. She winced, and put her hand to her ear.
"He moved out last night," she replied, closing her eyes again and shaking her head.
"Last night?" I whispered, shocked. "He didn't even say good-bye."
"What was that dear?" Mommy sang loudly, looking up.
"Nothing," I muttered slowly, and headed back to my room. I sat down on my bed, nibbling at the cookies, and sipping the glass of milk. I stared at the wall ahead of me, then sighing. Tears hadn't welled up in my eyes. They stayed trapped somewhere, until the time was necessary for them to burst out into the open air and wet my cheeks. I brought the plate and now empty glass down into the kitchen, and heard a familiar voice talking to Mommy. It was Mrs. Baker. The stout, old woman sat in the easy chair next to the couch, as Mommy babbled on about something insignificant. Mrs. Baker turned to me.
"Why, hello Skye dear," she said, and walked over to hug me. I kept my hands at my sides. The woman had never hugged me before, nor paid any attention to me. She reeked of her favorite talcum powder, which she had overdone this morning. Mommy looked like she could burst out into tears, but sniffled, and replaced her fake sadness with a smile.
"Your looking better, recovering so quickly I see," I snickered, looking at Mommy with my uncontrollable stare. She shifted her eyes away guiltily.
"Yes, I'm feeling much better," she said.
"I'm glad," I snapped, and turned away. I heard Mrs. Baker mutter something to Mommy.
"Why, I've never seen such a rude child in my life." I turned around, and stared at her hard.
"You try to deal with a divorce you old witch!" I screamed.
"Skye!" Mommy screeched, leaping off of the couch. I ran to my room, and slammed the door behind me, leaning up against it and locking it quickly.
"Skye Victoria! You come out of this room right this instant and apologize to Mrs. Baker immediately!" she shouted from outside the door.
"No! I hope the old woman rots in hell!" I screamed back at her, and ran over to the bed. Mommy tried turning the doorknob. She realized that it was locked. She grunted, and walked back downstairs to apologize for me.
"I'm so sorry Mrs. Baker, I really don't know what has gotten into her," Mommy shouted purposely for my ears to hear. I heard Mrs. Bakers' loud and obnoxious sobs. Soon afterwards, she left, her eyes dried, a sure small smile back on her lips. Mommy made one last attempt to talk to me.
"Skye, please come out, I'm sorry, really I am. Mrs. Baker didn't mean what she said. She said that she's sorry, and understands what you are going through," she said softly and caringly, as if she actually cared, I thought. I sighed, and opened the door.
"That's my girl," she said, and hugged me. I kept my hands at my sides. She pulled away after a long moment, and stared at me.
"You've changed," she commented, looking me up and down.
"I grew up," I snapped, and turned away from her. "I'm going over to Brad's house," I said, picking up my baseball glove as I walked outside. I knocked on his door, and held up the glove.
"Need to throw a few fast balls," I said. He nodded understandably, and ran to get his glove. He shut the door behind him, and we started. I threw like crazy, making my arm ache, but it had felt good to relieve anger tension.
"God, she infuriates me," I fumed, throwing a fast ball into his glove. He shook his hand when it landed.
"I can tell," he said, and threw it back. I explained to him the afternoon, and what had just happened recently.
"Man, people keep prying," he commented.
"Yeah, and I'm about to kick someone's butt if they don't stop," I muttered to myself. After my arm was sore, I called it a night. I went inside, and slithered up to my room, putting on my pajamas and slipping into bed. Mommy came up to kiss me goodnight.
"Hopefully we won't have a bad day like this one again," she said optimistically. I turned to the wall, and rolled my eyes, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
"Goodnight, and let better days come," she said, and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes, and waited for her to leave to wipe off her sticky lipstick from my forehead. "Goodnight," she said from the door, and closed it behind her. I wiped the kiss away, wiping it on my bed sheets, and closed my eyes for sleep.
The morning did go better, because we didn't speak a word to each other. She sipped her coffee, as I nibbled on a muffin. Once I had finished, I grabbed my things, and repeated another miserable day of school. Brad stood on the porch, waiting for me. I smiled, and walked with him to school.
"Your arm hurt?" he asked. I lifted it. It ached a little, but it didn't bother me much. I shrugged, and he nodded.
"When's your first date with Wendy Parker?" I asked. He smiled devilishly.
"Tonight I'm takin' her out to dinner," he said, and smiled at something he was thinking about.
"You're not thinking about . . . you know," I sputtered.
"Maybe," he said, and winked. I gasped playfully.
"Not Brad Collington! Not the good kid on the block!" I placed my hand over the base of my throat. He laughed, and shook his head.
"I just wanna get to know her, that's all," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Is that OK?"
"Yeah, just don't get too happy with her. Her dad's the sheriff," I pointed out. He looked at me, worry concealed in his eyes. He sighed heavily.
"OK, I get the point," he said, holding up his hands. I smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes.
"How were things last night?" he asked cautiously. I shrugged, and began to tell him the events of the night before. He laughed when I called the old woman a 'witch.'
"Wow," he said, holding his stomach from the ache of laughter. I sighed, and chuckled.
"When I did it, I was so angry, and didn't mean for it to be funny, but now when I think about it, I laugh," said I, smiling broadly. He let out an exasperated chuckle. Behind us, we heard a giggle. We turned around, and saw Michelle Trachney, Alyssa Broadson, and Laura Skimpsky clustered together. I looked at Alex.
"Oh, hi Skye, we were just talking about you," Michelle piped up, her light and airy tone fringing my nerves. I smirked, and turned around and started to walk again.
"You know," Laura contributed. "Ever since your dad left you and your mother, he's been talking to my daddy a lot lately." Her southern accent echoed through the street. I continued to walk forward. "He said that he's glad that he left, because he don't love his family no more." I turned around sharply. All girls giggled. I looked at Brad, who stared at me with cautious eyes, and I walked over to them.
"Laura dearest," I said, mimicking her southern tone. She glared at me, like she was trying to burn the clothes off my body with her eyes. I stepped up closer to her, her face inches from mine. I raised my eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't want to take back what you said? Because you might want to think about your own trashy mother," I said, recalling stories from when I was younger, listening to Mommy talk to her girlfriends about 'the whore on wheels', Laura's mother. Her face turned beet red.
"Well, at least my family ain't gettin' a divorce," she sneered. My nerves snapped.
"All right bitch, let's get it on!" I screamed, and lunged forward, balling my hands into fists. I took a swing, and punched her straight in the right cheek. She screamed out. Brad came behind me, and grabbed my arms, holding them back. Michelle and Alyssa stepped up, seeing if anything had been damaged. The bruise began to appear quickly, making the girls gasp.
"That's going to take a lot of cover up," Alyssa concluded, looking my way hatefully. I smirked.
"You stupid bitch! You're going to hear from me!" she screamed, touching her cheek gingerly, wincing in pain. I wanted to run and wipe away all of her heavily caked makeup with my fists, but Brad held me back. He grabbed my waist, and lifted me and put in the other direction, shoving his arm in front of me to block me if I happened to lunge at Laura for another attack.
"You shut your dirty trap Laura, or I'll let her go and let her tear your face out," Brad warned, narrowing his eyes at them. She repeated his action.
"Don't think this is the end Lawrence," Laura warned, and turned around, beginning to cry. I grunted, and Brad pushed me towards the school.
"You're in deep crap," he said, almost as if he was disgusted. I growled angrily.
"I've been in knee deep," I muttered, and started on the path to school. After minutes of silence, Brad came up with something to say.
"You had a pretty good right hook on her there," he said. I turned to him, and we started to laugh, laughing so hard, are stomachs both ached. I sighed, and stepped inside the school.
Once we had entered, the whole school erupted into silence, watching me and Brad enter. Soon, it broke out into tiny whispers, some loud enough for me to hear. I gave them an evil glare, which made them back off. I walked to my locker, said good-bye to Brad, and opened, sensing that the dynamic trio of friends that I had would soon appear next to me.
"Skye," someone called behind me, just as I had opened my locker. I turned around slowly, and saw Brian Langton. I smiled.
"Hi," I said, smiling. He walked closer to me.
"Uhh, word around the school is that you slugged Laura Skimpsky a good one," he said, walking with me to class. I nodded.
"Damn straight I did," I said proudly, passing a cluster of freshman who looked at me fearfully. I looked up at Brian.
He stood 6 feet tall, with sandy blond hair, and hazel eyes. His lips were the perfect shade of pink, and his skin tone was almost pale. I always thought that he was attractive, but thought nothing of it. Suddenly, I was getting nervous around him.
"Congratulations," he said, taking my hand and shaking it roughly. He held it a bit longer than I expected. I smiled, and took my hand away from his slowly. He smiled, and turned down the hall again. I looked down at the floor.
"I'm sorry about your parents," he said softly, looking into my eyes.
"Thanks," I said nervously, words trapped in my throat.
"Sometimes parents are so selfish, they only think of themselves, and then they remember they had a child," he added, looking down. I sighed, and closed my eyes, feeling a yawn coming on.
"You look tired, are you OK?" Brian asked, tilting my chin up so that he could see me clearly. I nodded, and then yawned.
"Why are you so tired?"
"Mom kept me up last night," I muttered, remembering that she was up listening to her rock music, a bottle of whiskey in her hand, later I heard her drop it.
"Ah," he said and nodded understandingly. I shrugged, and appeared in front of my classroom.
"Wanted to make sure that you got to class OK without being harassed," he said, when I was about ask him. I smiled.
"Thanks."
"Anytime," he muttered, and waved once he was leaving. My hand went up in a quick wave, and entered the class room. I sat down in my seat, and wondered why Brian had come up to me earlier.
During the walk home, I thought about it even more, using reasonable deduction. Brad didn't notice. He was too busy babbling on about Wendy. I answered with a nod, or a "Hmm."
Once I had stepped inside the house, I mumbled a hello to my mother, and ran directly to my room, my eyes focused ahead. I threw the door open, and plopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
"SKYE!" Mommy screeched, her voice cracking. I looked at the door, and stood up, walking downstairs to the living room. Mommy was sitting in her easy chair, rocking slowly back and forth. Once she had seen me, she leaped up.
"We need to talk, really badly," she exaggerated, lurching forward. I plopped down on the couch.
"What about?" I asked, crossing my legs. She stood and paced around the room, her hands folded behind her back.
"I just got a disturbing call from Caroline Skimpsky," she said, looking at me. A small impish smile crept on my face. "She informed me on what happened this morning, as you all ready know, because you were involved. How could you do such a thing!" she tossed her hands into the air. I shrugged. She stared at me, trying to she what had changed about me.
"What's happened to you? Where did my darling daughter Skye go?" she inquired softly, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. I didn't answer. I stood up, and stared towards my room slowly. "Are those real tears?" I asked.
"Skye, what are you doing? Skye? Skye! You come right back here and talk to me! Skye!" she screamed, as if her life depended on it. I didn't turn back to her. I trudged up the stairs slowly, holding the balustrade. "You're grounded young lady! You're lucky Mrs. Skimpsky doesn't call the police on you!" she screamed, finally bursting out into sobs. I shrugged, and walked into my room, just as my phone rang. I walked over to it, and answered it quickly.
"Hello?" I asked, sitting down on my bed.
"Hi, it's me Brian," he greeted. I sighed.
"Hi Brian."
"What's wrong? You sound depressed," he noted.
"Another argument," I said dully.
"Oh, sorry," he said.
"So what's up?" I asked, curling up against the fluffy cream colored pillows.
"Nothing. Umm, Skye, I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner sometime or do something together," he said, using all of the courage that he had to ask. I smiled.
"That'd be great," I paused, hearing Mommy scream something to me downstairs. "How about now?" I asked quickly, hearing Mommy's footsteps in the hallway. I leaped off my bed and locked the door.
"Right now?" he asked. I nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Is it OK with your Mom?"
"Oh yes, yes it's OK," I said quickly but desperately, wanting to get out of the house. He sighed.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked, clearing his throat. Mommy pounded against the door, begging me to open it and talk to her.
"Surprise me," I said, craning my neck.
"OK. Pick you up at 4:00."
"OK gotta go bye," I said quickly, and slammed the phone down on the cradle. I turned to the door, and let Mommy in, falling on her face from pounding on the door.
"Finally," she muttered. She regained her composure and straightened out her clothes.
"What do you want!" I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. She furrowed her eyebrows.
"We need to talk Skye. You've changed. Ever since the separation, you've been . . . different. What's wrong baby?" she asked, coming to hug me. I stepped out of her path.
"See, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Talk to me honey."
"You wonder why I've changed," I mumbled. Her eyes widened.
"You're putting all of the blame on me, aren't you?" she asked, extending her hands. I backed away. "Well, it was his decision too!" I leaped toward her sharply. She whimpered.
"I heard the whole conversation that night . . . Mommy. He didn't want it. He truly loved you, and you didn't repay him for an ounce of that love. I despise your mother. Down to your very bone, I despise you. Get out of my sight. You make me sick," I turned around, my hair lightly slapping her face. She gasped, opened her mouth, closed it, and stormed out of the room, crying.
"Where are you Rick? Come and teach your child some respect!" she shouted, sniffling. I closed my eyes, and plopped down on my bed. I picked up the phone, and pressed the first speed dial number, which was Brad's.
"Hey, what's up?" he asked.
"Hey, can you do me a favor?" I asked.
"What is it?"
"I need you to keep an eye on my mother for me. I'm going out," I said.
"I don't get it, why?"
"Mom's outta control. She's screaming at me, wondering why I've changed, and stuff like that. Can you do it for me?" I asked.
"I can only do it after 8. My date with Wendy is tonight."
"Oh, shoot, I forgot. OK, well, I'm going to have my phone with me. Call me when you get home if I'm not there," I said.
"OK," he said, sighing. "Where are you going?"
"Out to dinner with Brian," I said, not revealing much. He chuckled.
"What?" I cried. He laughed harder.
"Sorry, just found that a little funny," he muttered, and calmed himself down.
"Yeah, just shut up. Can you do it for me?" I asked annoyingly.
"Yeah, I can. I'll talk to you later. Gotta get ready," he boasted. I rolled my eyes.
"Whatever," I said, and hung up. I looked over at my mirror, and saw that my hair was a mess. I ran a brush through it, and sat on my bed, reading a magazine. I looked at the clock. 3:55. Brian was surely on his way. I opened my bedroom door, looked out into the hallway, and crept out of the house, grabbing fifty dollars and my house key. I sat on the steps waiting for his red Camaro to appear down the street. Once it did, I leaped over to it, and opened the door.
