"You want to know what I was just thinking."
"No, not really..."
"I was just thinking about the rain. Look at it...it just keeps falling. It's so beautiful."
Chris looked at me like I was insane and turned his algebra homework over. Pencil marks abhorred his fingers and his eyes were tired and unfocused. Somehow, his hair was standing even more on end than usual, and dark bags were slowly forming underneath his eyes. We both had been working for hours on our homework after school that day, and neither one of us was anywhere close to being finished. The sun was nowhere in sight—the sky was a dark, swirling storm. Rain pelted my house making the windows extremely annoying and I had to fight to get up and yell at them.
"Stop stalling," Chris said, sighing, and looking at me tiredly. "We have got to finish this. I don't know what our teachers were thinking, giving us all this homework in just one night."
I shrugged and looked resentfully down at my own poorly done homework. I was never one for much homework—I tired of it easily. I suppose it was because of the fact that my attention span was about the size of a goldfish's brain; therefore I could barely contain myself while doing laborious homework that meant nothing to me. I often did try and stall, changing the subject or just taking a break. Chris, however, liked to get it all done in one shot, which was probably the smart way to do things, but I just couldn't take it for long.
"I mean," Chris went on, looking distastefully at his paper which was smudged with pencil markings. "Did they mean to do this to us? Did they mean for all of them to give us this much homework on the same night? They don't give us one damn assignment all week, and then this."
I put my pencil down cautiously and raised an eyebrow in Chris' direction. He looked so tired that I immediately wanted to lay him down to sleep and have him rest his eyes. That was the thing with Chris—you always wanted to make sure he was safe and okay, mainly because he was the one that always took care of you. Whenever I would scrape my elbow or knee as a kid, Chris was the first one to come over with a Band-Aid and clean me up. Whenever I fell sick with a fever, he would come over with soup and make sure I was okay. It was just the way he was—making sure everyone was safe and happy while he was going quietly crazy.
I wanted to help him this time—no matter how small my action may be compared to his. I felt like I could never give back what Chris had given to me...it was a guilty feeling, but at the same time reassuring and made me so incredibly thankful that I had a friend as wonderful and beautiful as Chris Chambers.
"Would you like to take a break?" I asked, pushing away my books. "I'm bored and you look horrible."
Chris rolled his eyes but it looked like that effort cost him some strength. For a moment, I wondered if something had happened to make him so incredibly tired—it wasn't normal. I was tired too, but not physically tired as Chris was. He looked like nothing more than skin and bones, like he hadn't eaten for weeks. His skin wasn't a normal color and his lips were dried out. Why hadn't I noticed these things before? What if his father wasn't allowing him to eat at him? Did something happen? What was wrong? Why was he so tired? I immediately began to panic, but I kept my calm for Chris' sake. He didn't need me pestering him...though I was alarmed.
"Are you okay Chris," I asked, trying as best I could to keep a steady voice. I was being to fall apart. "Why are you so tired?"
Chris looked at me indifferently and placed his pencil down. He rubbed his head with his hands and sat back in his chair. I noticed as he rubbed his eyes that he had a new bruise on his right wrist. Chris' flannel shirt was rolled up to the elbows, so the mark was quite clear. My eyes widened and I was sure the look of fright and concern was evident on my face.
"Chris, what happened?" I demanded. I moved to look closer, but he snatched his arm away and hid it quickly underneath of the table. "Chris! What happened? You're not telling me something! Why—are—you—so—tired?" I made sure to let him know that I was worried and the seriousness of the matter. His eyes quickly grew full of shame and I leaned in closer to him. He was like a little boy now, trying to hide the trouble that haunted him—all the pain that tortured him everyday.
"Nothing...just...my..." He broke off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "It's nothing, just a little bruise. I—er—bumped into the table."
I shook my head and stood up to go around the side of the table where Chris sat. He immediately leaned back in the chair away from me, trying to hide his injury.
"Chris, let me see it!" I said, now becoming angry. How could Chris try and keep something like this from me? I was his best friend—I should know these things...why would he want to keep this from me? This was serious—his father always beat him, I knew that, but when something was so plain in front of my face I felt horrible letting it pass. Why couldn't Chris see that?
"No, Lark, it's nothing," Chris muttered, sighing and closing his eyes again. "Please? Just leave it, alright? Come on it's nothing...you know it happens all the time."
Chris wouldn't look me in the eyes. He knew if he saw the hurt in my eyes he would melt and have to explain it to me...but I wouldn't let this be the end of it. I was no longer sad, but angry...furiously angry. How could anyone ever even dream of hurting Chris? I began to become hot, my body red with anger, blood boiling. If I could, I would do anything to take away all of his pain and take it myself. I would rather die a hundred painful deaths than have Chris harmed in anyway—I suppose that was how much I loved him. I would die for him, no questions asked, if he ever needed anything, I would do all that I could. I wished I could be the one getting hurt so Chris could live in security...
"Chris...please?" I asked, one more time. Chris shook his head and looked away. I sighed, finally giving up...though knowing this wasn't the last time I would try and pry the answers out of him. He deserved help, he needed help...I couldn't let this go for so long. I felt horrible as it was, but this was just plain torture. "Want a pop?" I managed to ask, trying to get back into my normal mode.
"Sure."
I quickly left Chris for the kitchen, glancing over my shoulder to see him looking out the window with—was it longing?—in his eyes.
~~~
I returned two minutes later with bottles of pop for us. The cold glass of the surface tingled my fingers and somehow calmed my nerves. I would try and help Chris later...right now he obviously wasn't cooperating. Sooner or later, though, he would have to take my help. He couldn't be the one helping everyone forever.
"Chris," I said, sitting back down and letting the silence engulf us for several minutes. Chris took a sip of his drink and looked at me, almost pleading with his eyes to not bring up the subject of his bruises anymore. "Look at the rain. Look how beautiful it is."
Chris turned to look out of the glass patio door and shrugged. "It's just falling water droplets, Lark. It's not very pretty—it's gray and dull."
I glared at him and took another sip from my drink. It seemed with every drink that I took I felt more relaxed...the images of Chris getting beat by his drunken father were slowly drifting away from my mind. My mood was becoming lighter and the guilt in my stomach temporarily subsided. The coolness of the beverage intoxicated me in a way, making me feel at ease. The soft rain drumming a steady rhythm against the windows calmed me, as if reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. I was content for the moment.
"It's beautiful and amazing," I said hotly. "How you can not appreciate it, I have no idea. Don't you ever just stop to appreciate things, Chris? Things that are right in front of you and you take for granted everyday?"
Chris looked thoughtful for a moment, and then glanced at the rain, then back to me. "If it's there everyday, and I take it for granted, what's the point of appreciating it? It's always going to be there...what's the point?"
I couldn't believe my ears. "You know, that is something you would say! How can you possibly say that? Chris, look at the rain. Look at how beautiful it is...just falling, falling, falling, and nothing can stop it. Thousands, millions, of little water droplets joined together to form a handsome sheet of glitter that makes the earth go round."
Chris arched an eyebrow. "Lark, it's just the rain."
"Without rain, everything would end! You know, one of these days one of those things you take for granted everyday won't be there anymore...and you'll be sorry you didn't listen to me."
Chris shrugged and swigged down the rest of his pop. He looked a bit more refreshed and I was relieved...though I was still annoyed at his 'maleness'. How could he say such stupid things? I suddenly felt abandoned...I was something that was there for Chris everyday. Did Chris take me for granted? I wondered this and shrugged off the feeling of foreboding.
"You know," I said, after a moment of silence. Chris was just sitting there, looking at the rain, maybe starting to appreciate its beauty. "I don't know why I get so worked up over something like the rain."
Chris grinned at picked up his pencil to my dismay. "Because you're Lark. You always appreciate the smallest things in life, the things I overlook. It's funny, actually, and refreshing."
I looked curiously at him. "How is it refreshing?"
"It's nice that you appreciate the small things that don't seem to count," Chris said. "It's nice that you appreciate things that get overlooked...it's something I can't seem to do. Now, come on, it's almost eight and we still have tons of homework."
~~~
"I just do not understand it," I muttered, rubbing the temples of my head. It was eight thirty and I hadn't progressed much since our last break that Chris and I had took. He was mostly finished all of his work and was now helping me with my algebra. I was always naturally smart; I just struggled with mathematics and science, whereas Chris was stronger in those areas. We were complete contrasts of each other, and it came in handy most times—we would help one another out and it paid off. "What does that mean?" I pointed to an equation Chris had written out on my loose-leaf.
"How about we stop for tonight?" Chris asked hopefully, taking a long sip from his fourth pop. We had completely wiped out my pantry—cookies, chips, licorice...all of it devoured in a matter of minutes. I tended to eat when I was stressed...something I would struggle with all of my life. I looked up at Chris gleefully. "It's getting late, I've gotten some work done—and you can barely sit still."
I happily clapped my hands together. "Yay! Finally. Okay, since you're all tired and whatnot, what are you in the mood today?" I asked Chris, shutting my binders and books happily and pushing them away. I knew I would eventually have to do the work—I just tended to be lazy and put it off. My stress level was off the wall and I hated conflict, so most of the time I just avoided it. I looked anxiously at Chris...I knew he was beat, but as selfish as it might have been, I didn't want him to leave. I loved his company, no matter how miserable the situation might be. Sure, it was pretty selfish of me, but I couldn't help it. You couldn't help but want to be near Chris at all times.
Chris sighed and his eyes looked darker. He seemed to have gained some of his missing color that he had been deprived of earlier—perhaps the pop was beginning to have an effect on him. I doubted he got enough to eat and drink at home, so when he visited my home I made sure he had all that he could want—I wanted him to be content, I wanted him to be happy. I needed him to be happy.
"I'm so tired," he muttered, leaning back in the chair. I arched an eyebrow—so now he chooses to bring the situation back up? I could never tell with Chris—he was so unpredictable. "I haven't gotten good nights sleep in so long."
I frowned and leaned across the table, placing my head in my hands. "Why not?" Chris looked edgily at me from his seat. I knew he knew that I wanted to know why he was so tired—and I was so concerned that I didn't bother to try and cover it up. Not this time would Chris get away without telling me—I was all in best interest. If he told me, I could help him.
"My dad," Chris started. I had heard those two words strung together so many times by Chris that I could almost see his mouth forming them before they actually came out. "He—he's been really worked up lately from his job and all...you know, he just got laid-off. Now he's looking for money...but...you know...all the money goes down the drain into his...drinking. Well he's made me—Lark don't freak out now—he made me get a job."
I looked surprised at Chris. "What's so bad about that? I have a job—everyone has a job nowadays. Why are you so tired?"
Chris looked cautiously at me and then back out the window. The rain had finally stopped, but now lightening could be seen in the distance and a slight thunder rolled through the clouds. "It's...well...it's not a 'normal' job. It's...er..."
I narrowed my eyes. "Chris, spit it out! What does your dad make you do?"
Chris scratched the back of his head and sighed. "He got me a job at the factory up the street from Davis'."
I raised an eyebrow. "Okay. What's so not normal about that? Danny used to work there..."
"I work the midnight till six shift...every other night."
I didn't know what to say. I wanted to scream, I wanted to kill Mr. Chambers, I wanted to kiss Chris, I wanted to cry...I actually began to shake. Sure, it wasn't as bad as I thought...for a moment I expected Chris to tell me he was in the moonshine business. No, it wasn't the job that was bad...it was the hours. Midnight until six in the morning? Was that even physically possible? Seven hours at night, when one should be sound a sleep? And a growing boy nonetheless! No wonder Chris looked like a corpse! I'm surprised he was still living.
"You can't be serious," I said, widening my eyes and shaking my head. "Chris, that's insane. You need sleep, we all need sleep. When did this start?"
Chris laid his head on his hands and groaned. "A few weeks ago..."
"Chris! What are you doing? You need to quit, right now. You're going to kill yourself. You can't do it anymore! It's not fair to you! Your father is a grown man and should know better! What about Eyeball? Why can't he work?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "You think Eyeball has ever worked a day in his life? The guy is fucked up...besides, he got fired from his last job and that time Eyeball broke his arm..."
I frowned. "That's still not fair. Chris, school starts at eight o'clock everyday. You just can't do it."
Chris ran his hands through his hair and looked so pathetic that I actually felt tears fill my eyes, but I quickly swallowed them. Chris Chambers was the only one who could ever make me cry...go figure. He looked at me and his voice was unsteady and breaking.
"I can't do it anymore Lark," Chris sighed. "It's killing me, I swear. My bones ache, I haven't eaten in days...I have so much fucking homework."
I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from yelling out and running over to the Chambers' house right now and strangling Mr. Chambers for doing this to Chris. Chris had to quit—that was the only option. This could turn into something serious—he could seriously get hurt or become dangerously ill. It wasn't normal. I worked a few days a week and I complained—but how could Chris work so many nights a week for seven hours and still manage? I could see the work was starting to take a toll on him...
I stood up from my chair and knelt in front of Chris. I took his hand gently and turned his face towards me. "Chris, you've got to quit. You can't be afraid of your father anymore...you have got to quit. It's not healthy."
Chris nodded reluctantly. "I know...I'll talk to him about it...maybe he'll understand or something."
There was a long silence...we both knew that wasn't true and that the end would only lead into Chris getting banged up once more. It was inevitable—unavoidable. For Chris to not get hurt in anyway would have been unusual, surprising, odd. It was something that both of us had come to terms with over the years. It was something that had become a part of who were both were—Chris always got beat. That was that. It was sad, and horrible, and downright wrong, but there was nothing either one of us could do to change that. I hated it so much, but no matter what I did I couldn't stop that drunken monster from hurting the person I loved the most.
~~~
A bit shorter than I would have liked, but I'm trying to improve my style of writing? Like? Could you notice a difference? LOL I doubt it, but hey, I'm trying. Anywho...shout outs in the next few chapters. :)
Something is wrong with fanfiction and my email!! I'm not getting any of my reviews, and they won't show up!! It sucks!!! Bot@Fanfiction.net is not working whatsoever, and I'm sad. I can't believe this!! Please, if you want to review, review still the same way just email them to me also. I like reading them!! So after you review, copy and paste it and email it to me. Thanks!! I haven't gotten the reviews from chapter 10 and it's killing me!
"No, not really..."
"I was just thinking about the rain. Look at it...it just keeps falling. It's so beautiful."
Chris looked at me like I was insane and turned his algebra homework over. Pencil marks abhorred his fingers and his eyes were tired and unfocused. Somehow, his hair was standing even more on end than usual, and dark bags were slowly forming underneath his eyes. We both had been working for hours on our homework after school that day, and neither one of us was anywhere close to being finished. The sun was nowhere in sight—the sky was a dark, swirling storm. Rain pelted my house making the windows extremely annoying and I had to fight to get up and yell at them.
"Stop stalling," Chris said, sighing, and looking at me tiredly. "We have got to finish this. I don't know what our teachers were thinking, giving us all this homework in just one night."
I shrugged and looked resentfully down at my own poorly done homework. I was never one for much homework—I tired of it easily. I suppose it was because of the fact that my attention span was about the size of a goldfish's brain; therefore I could barely contain myself while doing laborious homework that meant nothing to me. I often did try and stall, changing the subject or just taking a break. Chris, however, liked to get it all done in one shot, which was probably the smart way to do things, but I just couldn't take it for long.
"I mean," Chris went on, looking distastefully at his paper which was smudged with pencil markings. "Did they mean to do this to us? Did they mean for all of them to give us this much homework on the same night? They don't give us one damn assignment all week, and then this."
I put my pencil down cautiously and raised an eyebrow in Chris' direction. He looked so tired that I immediately wanted to lay him down to sleep and have him rest his eyes. That was the thing with Chris—you always wanted to make sure he was safe and okay, mainly because he was the one that always took care of you. Whenever I would scrape my elbow or knee as a kid, Chris was the first one to come over with a Band-Aid and clean me up. Whenever I fell sick with a fever, he would come over with soup and make sure I was okay. It was just the way he was—making sure everyone was safe and happy while he was going quietly crazy.
I wanted to help him this time—no matter how small my action may be compared to his. I felt like I could never give back what Chris had given to me...it was a guilty feeling, but at the same time reassuring and made me so incredibly thankful that I had a friend as wonderful and beautiful as Chris Chambers.
"Would you like to take a break?" I asked, pushing away my books. "I'm bored and you look horrible."
Chris rolled his eyes but it looked like that effort cost him some strength. For a moment, I wondered if something had happened to make him so incredibly tired—it wasn't normal. I was tired too, but not physically tired as Chris was. He looked like nothing more than skin and bones, like he hadn't eaten for weeks. His skin wasn't a normal color and his lips were dried out. Why hadn't I noticed these things before? What if his father wasn't allowing him to eat at him? Did something happen? What was wrong? Why was he so tired? I immediately began to panic, but I kept my calm for Chris' sake. He didn't need me pestering him...though I was alarmed.
"Are you okay Chris," I asked, trying as best I could to keep a steady voice. I was being to fall apart. "Why are you so tired?"
Chris looked at me indifferently and placed his pencil down. He rubbed his head with his hands and sat back in his chair. I noticed as he rubbed his eyes that he had a new bruise on his right wrist. Chris' flannel shirt was rolled up to the elbows, so the mark was quite clear. My eyes widened and I was sure the look of fright and concern was evident on my face.
"Chris, what happened?" I demanded. I moved to look closer, but he snatched his arm away and hid it quickly underneath of the table. "Chris! What happened? You're not telling me something! Why—are—you—so—tired?" I made sure to let him know that I was worried and the seriousness of the matter. His eyes quickly grew full of shame and I leaned in closer to him. He was like a little boy now, trying to hide the trouble that haunted him—all the pain that tortured him everyday.
"Nothing...just...my..." He broke off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "It's nothing, just a little bruise. I—er—bumped into the table."
I shook my head and stood up to go around the side of the table where Chris sat. He immediately leaned back in the chair away from me, trying to hide his injury.
"Chris, let me see it!" I said, now becoming angry. How could Chris try and keep something like this from me? I was his best friend—I should know these things...why would he want to keep this from me? This was serious—his father always beat him, I knew that, but when something was so plain in front of my face I felt horrible letting it pass. Why couldn't Chris see that?
"No, Lark, it's nothing," Chris muttered, sighing and closing his eyes again. "Please? Just leave it, alright? Come on it's nothing...you know it happens all the time."
Chris wouldn't look me in the eyes. He knew if he saw the hurt in my eyes he would melt and have to explain it to me...but I wouldn't let this be the end of it. I was no longer sad, but angry...furiously angry. How could anyone ever even dream of hurting Chris? I began to become hot, my body red with anger, blood boiling. If I could, I would do anything to take away all of his pain and take it myself. I would rather die a hundred painful deaths than have Chris harmed in anyway—I suppose that was how much I loved him. I would die for him, no questions asked, if he ever needed anything, I would do all that I could. I wished I could be the one getting hurt so Chris could live in security...
"Chris...please?" I asked, one more time. Chris shook his head and looked away. I sighed, finally giving up...though knowing this wasn't the last time I would try and pry the answers out of him. He deserved help, he needed help...I couldn't let this go for so long. I felt horrible as it was, but this was just plain torture. "Want a pop?" I managed to ask, trying to get back into my normal mode.
"Sure."
I quickly left Chris for the kitchen, glancing over my shoulder to see him looking out the window with—was it longing?—in his eyes.
~~~
I returned two minutes later with bottles of pop for us. The cold glass of the surface tingled my fingers and somehow calmed my nerves. I would try and help Chris later...right now he obviously wasn't cooperating. Sooner or later, though, he would have to take my help. He couldn't be the one helping everyone forever.
"Chris," I said, sitting back down and letting the silence engulf us for several minutes. Chris took a sip of his drink and looked at me, almost pleading with his eyes to not bring up the subject of his bruises anymore. "Look at the rain. Look how beautiful it is."
Chris turned to look out of the glass patio door and shrugged. "It's just falling water droplets, Lark. It's not very pretty—it's gray and dull."
I glared at him and took another sip from my drink. It seemed with every drink that I took I felt more relaxed...the images of Chris getting beat by his drunken father were slowly drifting away from my mind. My mood was becoming lighter and the guilt in my stomach temporarily subsided. The coolness of the beverage intoxicated me in a way, making me feel at ease. The soft rain drumming a steady rhythm against the windows calmed me, as if reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. I was content for the moment.
"It's beautiful and amazing," I said hotly. "How you can not appreciate it, I have no idea. Don't you ever just stop to appreciate things, Chris? Things that are right in front of you and you take for granted everyday?"
Chris looked thoughtful for a moment, and then glanced at the rain, then back to me. "If it's there everyday, and I take it for granted, what's the point of appreciating it? It's always going to be there...what's the point?"
I couldn't believe my ears. "You know, that is something you would say! How can you possibly say that? Chris, look at the rain. Look at how beautiful it is...just falling, falling, falling, and nothing can stop it. Thousands, millions, of little water droplets joined together to form a handsome sheet of glitter that makes the earth go round."
Chris arched an eyebrow. "Lark, it's just the rain."
"Without rain, everything would end! You know, one of these days one of those things you take for granted everyday won't be there anymore...and you'll be sorry you didn't listen to me."
Chris shrugged and swigged down the rest of his pop. He looked a bit more refreshed and I was relieved...though I was still annoyed at his 'maleness'. How could he say such stupid things? I suddenly felt abandoned...I was something that was there for Chris everyday. Did Chris take me for granted? I wondered this and shrugged off the feeling of foreboding.
"You know," I said, after a moment of silence. Chris was just sitting there, looking at the rain, maybe starting to appreciate its beauty. "I don't know why I get so worked up over something like the rain."
Chris grinned at picked up his pencil to my dismay. "Because you're Lark. You always appreciate the smallest things in life, the things I overlook. It's funny, actually, and refreshing."
I looked curiously at him. "How is it refreshing?"
"It's nice that you appreciate the small things that don't seem to count," Chris said. "It's nice that you appreciate things that get overlooked...it's something I can't seem to do. Now, come on, it's almost eight and we still have tons of homework."
~~~
"I just do not understand it," I muttered, rubbing the temples of my head. It was eight thirty and I hadn't progressed much since our last break that Chris and I had took. He was mostly finished all of his work and was now helping me with my algebra. I was always naturally smart; I just struggled with mathematics and science, whereas Chris was stronger in those areas. We were complete contrasts of each other, and it came in handy most times—we would help one another out and it paid off. "What does that mean?" I pointed to an equation Chris had written out on my loose-leaf.
"How about we stop for tonight?" Chris asked hopefully, taking a long sip from his fourth pop. We had completely wiped out my pantry—cookies, chips, licorice...all of it devoured in a matter of minutes. I tended to eat when I was stressed...something I would struggle with all of my life. I looked up at Chris gleefully. "It's getting late, I've gotten some work done—and you can barely sit still."
I happily clapped my hands together. "Yay! Finally. Okay, since you're all tired and whatnot, what are you in the mood today?" I asked Chris, shutting my binders and books happily and pushing them away. I knew I would eventually have to do the work—I just tended to be lazy and put it off. My stress level was off the wall and I hated conflict, so most of the time I just avoided it. I looked anxiously at Chris...I knew he was beat, but as selfish as it might have been, I didn't want him to leave. I loved his company, no matter how miserable the situation might be. Sure, it was pretty selfish of me, but I couldn't help it. You couldn't help but want to be near Chris at all times.
Chris sighed and his eyes looked darker. He seemed to have gained some of his missing color that he had been deprived of earlier—perhaps the pop was beginning to have an effect on him. I doubted he got enough to eat and drink at home, so when he visited my home I made sure he had all that he could want—I wanted him to be content, I wanted him to be happy. I needed him to be happy.
"I'm so tired," he muttered, leaning back in the chair. I arched an eyebrow—so now he chooses to bring the situation back up? I could never tell with Chris—he was so unpredictable. "I haven't gotten good nights sleep in so long."
I frowned and leaned across the table, placing my head in my hands. "Why not?" Chris looked edgily at me from his seat. I knew he knew that I wanted to know why he was so tired—and I was so concerned that I didn't bother to try and cover it up. Not this time would Chris get away without telling me—I was all in best interest. If he told me, I could help him.
"My dad," Chris started. I had heard those two words strung together so many times by Chris that I could almost see his mouth forming them before they actually came out. "He—he's been really worked up lately from his job and all...you know, he just got laid-off. Now he's looking for money...but...you know...all the money goes down the drain into his...drinking. Well he's made me—Lark don't freak out now—he made me get a job."
I looked surprised at Chris. "What's so bad about that? I have a job—everyone has a job nowadays. Why are you so tired?"
Chris looked cautiously at me and then back out the window. The rain had finally stopped, but now lightening could be seen in the distance and a slight thunder rolled through the clouds. "It's...well...it's not a 'normal' job. It's...er..."
I narrowed my eyes. "Chris, spit it out! What does your dad make you do?"
Chris scratched the back of his head and sighed. "He got me a job at the factory up the street from Davis'."
I raised an eyebrow. "Okay. What's so not normal about that? Danny used to work there..."
"I work the midnight till six shift...every other night."
I didn't know what to say. I wanted to scream, I wanted to kill Mr. Chambers, I wanted to kiss Chris, I wanted to cry...I actually began to shake. Sure, it wasn't as bad as I thought...for a moment I expected Chris to tell me he was in the moonshine business. No, it wasn't the job that was bad...it was the hours. Midnight until six in the morning? Was that even physically possible? Seven hours at night, when one should be sound a sleep? And a growing boy nonetheless! No wonder Chris looked like a corpse! I'm surprised he was still living.
"You can't be serious," I said, widening my eyes and shaking my head. "Chris, that's insane. You need sleep, we all need sleep. When did this start?"
Chris laid his head on his hands and groaned. "A few weeks ago..."
"Chris! What are you doing? You need to quit, right now. You're going to kill yourself. You can't do it anymore! It's not fair to you! Your father is a grown man and should know better! What about Eyeball? Why can't he work?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "You think Eyeball has ever worked a day in his life? The guy is fucked up...besides, he got fired from his last job and that time Eyeball broke his arm..."
I frowned. "That's still not fair. Chris, school starts at eight o'clock everyday. You just can't do it."
Chris ran his hands through his hair and looked so pathetic that I actually felt tears fill my eyes, but I quickly swallowed them. Chris Chambers was the only one who could ever make me cry...go figure. He looked at me and his voice was unsteady and breaking.
"I can't do it anymore Lark," Chris sighed. "It's killing me, I swear. My bones ache, I haven't eaten in days...I have so much fucking homework."
I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from yelling out and running over to the Chambers' house right now and strangling Mr. Chambers for doing this to Chris. Chris had to quit—that was the only option. This could turn into something serious—he could seriously get hurt or become dangerously ill. It wasn't normal. I worked a few days a week and I complained—but how could Chris work so many nights a week for seven hours and still manage? I could see the work was starting to take a toll on him...
I stood up from my chair and knelt in front of Chris. I took his hand gently and turned his face towards me. "Chris, you've got to quit. You can't be afraid of your father anymore...you have got to quit. It's not healthy."
Chris nodded reluctantly. "I know...I'll talk to him about it...maybe he'll understand or something."
There was a long silence...we both knew that wasn't true and that the end would only lead into Chris getting banged up once more. It was inevitable—unavoidable. For Chris to not get hurt in anyway would have been unusual, surprising, odd. It was something that both of us had come to terms with over the years. It was something that had become a part of who were both were—Chris always got beat. That was that. It was sad, and horrible, and downright wrong, but there was nothing either one of us could do to change that. I hated it so much, but no matter what I did I couldn't stop that drunken monster from hurting the person I loved the most.
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A bit shorter than I would have liked, but I'm trying to improve my style of writing? Like? Could you notice a difference? LOL I doubt it, but hey, I'm trying. Anywho...shout outs in the next few chapters. :)
Something is wrong with fanfiction and my email!! I'm not getting any of my reviews, and they won't show up!! It sucks!!! Bot@Fanfiction.net is not working whatsoever, and I'm sad. I can't believe this!! Please, if you want to review, review still the same way just email them to me also. I like reading them!! So after you review, copy and paste it and email it to me. Thanks!! I haven't gotten the reviews from chapter 10 and it's killing me!