Hi everyone. Sorry for the LONG delay. School has taken up a lot of my time, and I've had two instruments to practice. I'm really sorry. But, to make it up to you, I've made a long chapter. So I'll let you read it. I'm sure you don't like the long author intros.
Disclaimer: I don't own School Of Rock, Burger King, Slice,Good Charlotte, GreenDay, YellowCard, any trains, any Gibson Guitars (I do own an Ibanez, though), and many more things I mentioned. I put in an email address, and if it's yours, I'm sorry.
Dewey's Niece
Chapter Ten
Runaway
It had been a pretty bad week for Kristi. She would always complain to her sister, since her parents had left. Ronnie thought that she was over-reacting, but Kristi insisted that it was going to be a rotten summer. When their parents left, Kristi and Ronnie just hung out around their huge house. But when Ronnie had a date with Brad, Kristi would just sit in her room, alone. Brad's little brother Broc kept asking Kristi out, but she always turned him down. She still was a little upset about her break-up with Freddy.
It was a very hot Monday. Kristi was laying on her bed listening to a Red Hot Chili Peppers CD. She had rolled up the sleeves of her black Happy Bunny hoodie, and was moving her foot to the beat. There was a soft knock on her door.
"Come in," she called as she turned down the music.
Ronnie stepped in and said, "Hey little sis. I'm goin' to the store. Ya want anything?"
"Na, I'm good."
"Okay," Ronnie said as she stepped out of the door.
Kristi had just turned the music back up when Ronnie stepped into the room again.
"Now what, Ronnie?" she whined.
"Sorry. I forgot to ask you what kind of cake you wanted."
Kristi sat up. "Cake?" she repeated in confusion.
"Yep, cake. Remember, it's your birthday tomorrow. Even though Mom and Dad aren't going to be here, I still thought that we could get a small cake. What flavor d'ya want?"
"Marble, with chocolate frosting," she said. As her sister left, she added, "Oh, do we have any vanilla ice cream? 'Cause if we don't, could you get some?"
Ronnie called yes, and Kristi turned up her music again. She had completely forgotten her birthday. It would be weird, because it was only Ronnie and her. And she would only get one present. That's because she didn't have any living relatives, except for her mom, dad, sister, and Dewey. And Stephanie wasn't going to be able to come. Even though she was turning thirteen, Kristi wasn't really looking forward to her birthday. She just turned up her music even louder, and tried to forget about the next day.
Kristi woke up to her sister, mom, and dad shouting, "Happy Birthday!"
"Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?" she asked.
"We decided to come home early and celebrate your birthday, since we love you so much," her dad said. Kristi never thought that her dad would want to celebrate anyone's birthday, including hers. And did he just say that he loved her 'so much'?
"Cool," Kristi said, not knowing what else to say.
"Ooh, guess what?" Vivian asked. Without waiting for an answer, she added, "All of your friends are waiting for you downstairs! They came all of the way from New York to see you and to celebrate your birthday."
At those words, Kristi jumped out of her bed and ran to the second floor. She had been missing all of her ex-band mates. All of her friends were in the living room. Katie gave Kristi a hug as Marta gave her a yellow Gibson Les Paul electric guitar. Kristi accepted it gladly, even though it was a weird color. Suddenly, someone called out her name. Kristi turned around and noticed that it was Freddy, who ran up to Kristi gave her a very passionate kiss.
"I've missed you so much," he said when he was done kissing the shocked teen. "I couldn't stand not seeing you. Our breaking up was a terrible mistake. I want to forget that we broke up and try this long distance relationship. Is that okay?"
"No," said a voice. The band stepped aside, and there was Broc, who was scowling. "I like Kristi, and she's going out with me."
Freddy pulled himself out of his and Kristi's embrace.
"No, I'm not!" she cried out. She tried to step closer to Freddy, but he backed away looking hurt and disgusted. "Don't listen to him!"
"So you took my girlfriend," Freddy said through gritted teeth. He pushed Broc, who was looking just as angry. Everyone backed away, because when Freddy was mad, he was really mad. Broc, who was shorter than Freddy and was really quite clueless, shoved Freddy back. Broc mumbled something to him that sounded like stop, some swearwords, and Freddy's name.
"What did you say? Freddy asked.
"Nothing," Broc mumbled. He was then grabbed by the collar of his nice, expensive light blue polo.
Freddy, whose face was getting redder every second, yelled, "What did you say?!"
"Just...just that you are one rotten piece of crap, and that Kristi never will deserve a guy like you," the timid boy said. It was a very brave thing for him to say to the angry teenager that was attempting to strangle him.
But before Kristi could say or do anything to stop him, Freddy tightened his grip on Broc and threw him into the large and elegant fireplace.
Kristi muttered to herself, "Since when do we have a fireplace?"
But she then noticed that the wood in it was burning, and that Broc was on fire. He rolled out onto the floor, howling in pain. Then he stopped. He didn't move, or respond to Kristi's voice calling his name from across the room.
Freddy had killed Broc. Broc was dead.
The orange and yellow flames spilled out onto the carpet. They spread really fast. Everyone ran out of the room, terrified. Everyone except for Freddy and Kristi.
"Freddy, come on!" Kristi shrieked. The floor boards were creaking from stress, and the felt like they could break any second. But Freddy was just standing there, looking amused at the fire.
"Come on!" She was about to go in and get him when a board from the third story crashed down on him. With a bloodcurdling shriek, Ronnie fell from the floor above, onto a screaming Freddy. Kristi turned away, holding back tears as Freddy's yells slowly stopped. Only then did she look back into the room at Ronnie, and was horrified at what she saw.
It was a gruesome site. Blood was all over her cheeks. Her long brown hair was crimson and singed. Her lip was cut, and her eyes were closed. Her face and arms were unnaturally pale. She looked...dead.
Kristi screamed and cried. She ran to her sister, not caring that the room was engulfed in flames. She shook her sister and muttered, "Ronnie, wake up! Ronnie!" Nothing happened.
Kristi heard a shriek and looked up. She saw a flaming portrait of her mother come crashing down on her legs. Within seconds, they had caught her blue plaid pajama pants on fire. It was a pain like no other, and such an awful burning feeling. Tongues of fire went to her knees as she screamed and cried. She was being burned alive.
Suddenly she was being shaken. A familiar voice called out, "Kristi!"
"Ronnie!" she choked out. She couldn't see, the smoke was so thick. Flames were going to her chest as she called out, "Your dead!"
A board crashed onto her back. She closed her eyes in pain and wished to die. The room bright orange and yellow room turned to black. Her eyes were forcefully closed. She opened them, and there was her sister. The blackness turned into a familiar room.
Kristi sat up and screamed. She looked at her sister in shock and said, "Ronnie! You're supposed to be dead! Am I dead too? Is this...heaven?"
Ronnie, who was sitting on the edge of Kristi's bed, smirked and said, "No, silly. You had a really bad dream. You were yelling and screaming, and you almost fell off of your bed."
Kristi wiped her forehead, which was all sweaty. "Oh, okay," she whispered.
"Okay." Ronnie gave a small smile. "Then I'm gonna go and finish wrapping your present. You can shower, get dressed, and then meet me downstairs."
Ronnie turned to leave, but stopped and said, "Oh, by the way, happy birthday."
"Honestly, when are you going to come down? You've been up there for hours!"
"Never!" Kristi shrieked. "Not with him coming over!"
She heard Ronnie let out a loud moan and thump something heavy on the kitchen table. Then she looked into her mirror.
Kristi's half shut blue eyes had bright red streaks underneath them, since she hadn't slept well last night. Her pink lip gloss was smeared across her face. She let out a yawn and reached for her Mountain Dew can. "There nothing that a little makeup and Mountain Dew can't fix," she mumbled to herself.
A half an hour later, Ronnie opened the door without knocking and ran right into Kristi, who was fixing her hair with the mirror on the back of her door. Ronnie looked at Kristi for a second, then said, "You don't look too bad; you didn't need to shut yourself into your room for a while over that."
Kristi had on some fitted blue jeans with a hot pink studded belt. She had on a black baby tee with Happy Bunny on it which read, 'You're Icky'. She had on no socks, but her toenails and fingernails were painted black and hot pink. She also had black streaks in her hair, and the tips were hot pink. She redid her makeup, and added some eyeliner and blue-gray eye shadow.
"Thanks," Kristi replied and smiled.
There was a small silence, in which Kristi sat on her bed and Ronnie paced around the room.
"So," Ronnie said. "They're gonna be here any minute. We should probably go downsta-"
"NO!" Kristi folded her arms, crossed her legs and sat there stubbornly on her bed.
Ronnie let out a loud, obvious sigh. "You're acting so stupid. I don't see what your problem is, it's just-"
"It's not just your boyfriend coming over. Broc's coming over, too. I hate Broc, and he loves me. I just don't want to be asked out again. He is so stupid-it'll be the fourth time this week. Can't he take no for an answer?" Kristi kicked over a trash can in her anger. Empty Mountain Dew and Slice cans rolled out onto the floor.
"They won't be over here for more that an hour and a half. I just thought that you might want to be with some people that you knew on your birthday. I wouldn't want to be by myself on my thirteenth birthday."
There was more silence.
"Alright Ronnie," Kristi said as she got up. "You win. I'll go down there for a while, but don't make them stay there longer then they have to, or I think I'll die."
She followed her sister to the second floor and into the dining room. Ronnie had decorated it with streamers, balloons, and a banner that read, 'Happy 13th Birthday Kristi!!' There was, just like Kristi wanted, a marble cake with chocolate frosting. Next to it was three boxes. One was a small rectangular box, the second was a little larger, and the third box was humongous. Kristi went over to grab it, but Ronnie stopped her.
When she asked why, her big sister said, "You have to wait until our guests arrive. But," she added, "It's from New York."
That made Kristi smile for the first time all day.
But the smile didn't last long. As soon as Ronnie had said 'New York', the doorbell rang. Kristi didn't move, so Ronnie said, "I'll get it," and went downstairs to the door.
She just stood in the hallway and listened to her sister. She had said hi to Brad and Broc, and then told him that Kristi was in the kitchen. Kristi tried to make a run for it, but Broc had been halfway up the stairs when Ronnie had given him that crucial information. Kristi was almost halfway up the stairs leading to her room when Broc saw her.
Kristi had to admit that Broc was looking kind of cute. His dirty blonde hair was spiked up. It reminded her or Freddy's hair. He was wearing khaki pants, and a light blue shirt. Just like the one in her dream.
"Oh... Hi Broc," she said, sitting down on the bottom step. She knew that she couldn't get up to her room now.
"Hey." He sat down right next to her. Kristi felt really uncomfortable with him being so close, so she edged closer to the wall, which was away from Broc.
"So.... Umm...Happy Birthday," he said, not really knowing what to say.
"Thanks."
"Do you like being thirteen?"
Kristi let out a small smile. "You sound like my mom. She always asks me that. It's okay, I guess."
It was quiet. Nobody said anything. Ronnie and her boyfriend hadn't come up from downstairs yet.
Broc looked around, expecting to see more people. "Where're all of your other friends?"
"I don't really have any," Kristi answered. She began to study the carpet.
"Sure you do. Stephanie's one of your best friends."
"She's in Mexico and won't be back until next week."
"Umm, any others?"
"No," Kristi replied. Since she had never gone to a school, and lived on a road with expensive mansions, she never had gotten to meet any kids her age. After thinking for a second, she added, "Not really."
"And whaddaya mean by that?"
She looked up from the carpet and looked at Broc. "I have friends in New York, but-"
Broc looked confused. "You've been living here for years and haven't made a lot of friends. Then you go to New York for a few weeks, and come home having more friends then you've ever had. How's that possible?"
Finally. They had reached something that Kristi was okay talking about. She smiled wider and said, "My uncle, his name's Dewey, started a band by taking on a substitute teaching, when he didn't have a teacher's license. Long story. But the band rehearsed the day that I came, and I got to meet the members. Katie-she's the bassist-she is a really good friend. And Marta, and Summer-they're good friends too-"
"What kind of band-"
Kristi was about to answer when Ronnie and Brad came up the stairs, holding hands, as usual. Kristi rolled her eyes and went to say hi to Brad.
He held out a small box wrapped in the Sunday comics. "Happy Birthday," he said, handing her the present. When she looked at it funny, he replied, "Sorry. We don't have any wrapping paper at our house."
She smiled and followed everyone into the dining room, where they sang to Kristi and had cake and ice cream.
While they were eating it, they had an interesting discussion.
"Well," Broc said to Kristi. "I hope you like the present. We were gonna get you a CD, but we didn't know what style of music you liked. Brad wanted to get you a classical one, but-"
"Did not," his big brother said. "At least I didn't want to give her a folk music tape."
Broc glared at his brother. Wanting to prevent an argument, Ronnie asked, "So, you like folk music Broc?"
"Yes I do," he said proudly.
"To me," Brad said, "classical is the best stuff out there. It soothes the mind and is fun to listen too. It's much better than rock-"
He was interrupted by Kristi's fork being set down a little too hard on the table. She glared at Brad.
"What kind of music do you listen too, Kristi?" Broc asked, wondering why she looked so upset.
"Every kind of rock that you could ever imagine," she replied, not taking her fierce look off of Brad, who was returning it with a large frown.
Brad made a coughing noise, in which the words, 'Bad taste' were concealed.
"Are you saying that I have bad taste?" Kristi said, raising her voice.
"Yes, I am," he said as loud as Kristi's voice was.
"You are the one with bad taste! Listening to flutes and trumpets! They ruin the songs, as well as the other instruments-"
"At least the people aren't always yelling," Brad retorted.
"They don't always yell! But at least they have lyrics to their songs."
"At least my music has rhythm." Brad's face was getting red as he stood up.
Kristi stood up, too. He was short, so they were at eye level. She yelled, "Yes it does. There are these things called drums that keep the beat. Some guys, like you, are too stupid to know that!"
"Are you calling me stupid!?"
Kristi nodded and continued, saying, "But at least a bunch of crappy old guys in wigs don't write what I listen to."
"They aren't crappy."
"Their songs aren't half as good as Led Zeppelin's, Green Day's, and Good Charlotte's stuff!"
Brads face was bright red, and Kristi's was tinged pink. Ronnie and Broc exchanged looks of pure terror. Kristi reached out one of her hands towards the cake. She looked like she was going to grab some cake and throw it at Ronnie's boyfriend.
Ronnie saw this, and slapped Kristi's hand and yelled, "Stop it! Stop it, both of you! I'm sick of this! Now calm down!"
Kristi and Brad sat down, and everyone was silent.
It stayed like that for five minutes, until Ronnie suggested, "Kristi, how 'bout you open your presents?"
"Sounds good," she coldly replied.
Kristi started opening the presents. From Ronnie, she got pink Chuck Taylor All Star shoes with pink and black shoelaces, and a guitar stand that could hold three guitars. Then she excitedly grabbed the big box.
Brad was staring at the box, wondering who it was from, so Broc said, "It's from New York."
The box was full of news paper and packing peanuts. On the top was a letter.
It read:
Kristi,
Happy 13th Birthday from your favorite uncle!!
I hope you are having a good time back home. You weren't so keen to go there, but good luck.
Back here in New York City, nothing much is new. Summer's trying to get us a record deal, but it's not coming along too well. That's all.
Oh, and Zack might be able to walk again. Doesn't that rock? He's all excited, but nothing's for sure. He has to stay in the hospital for another week.
In this box is a bunch of presents from the band members. They all signed the bottom of the letter, since no one knew where the nearest card shop was. Well, everyone but Zack, since he is in the hospital.
Keep rockin'!
Dewey
Along the bottom of the letter were notes from everyone:
Happy Birthday, Kristi!! We all miss you. Katie
The band's not the same without you. You have to come visit soon!! Email me at Summer
Have the best birthday ever!! Love you like fat girls love your birthday cake, Marta
Happy 13th, Alicia
Have a good birthday. And that's not very funny, Marta. From Tomika
I hope that your birthday rocks, I guess. Lawrence
Kristi frowned, then turned to Ronnie and said, "Freddy didn't sign it." Ronnie just shrugged, so she continued dig through the box.
Inside it were a bunch of gifts from her friends: a twenty-five dollar gift certificate to Hot Topic from Dewey; a Motorhead CD from Katie; a huge bag of Everlasting Gobstoppers was from Marta; a video documentary on The Who was from Summer; and from everyone else, there was a shirt with the School Of Rock logo on it.
Kristi realized that Freddy didn't give her anything. She decided not to worry about it as she put everything that she had gotten in the box. Then, she saw the present from Brad and Broc.
She tore off the comics and looked at what she got. It was an Edward Scissorhands DVD.
"Thanks," Kristi said to the two brothers. "I haven't seen it before, but I really want to. Doesn't it have Johnny Deep in it?"
"Yeah," her sister answered. "He is, like, so hot!"
Kristi frowned. "He is, like, so not," she mimicked.
They started to argue, until Brad interrupted and said, "Well, we should get going. Thanks for inviting us, Veronica."
"Yep, no prob."
"And thanks for the present," Kristi added.
Ronnie saw them to the door while Kristi took her stuff up to her room. She then went to help her sister clean up.
"Well, that went well," Ronnie said.
"It pretty much did, considering who you invited."
"Broc didn't ask you out, so whaddya mean?"
"I dunno."
They continued taking stuff down off of the walls and ceiling. Then Kristi randomly said, "I hate your boyfriend."
"What?" Ronnie said, a little louder than she meant to. "What did he ever do to you?"
"He insulted rock music-that's what."
Ronnie stopped taking streamers off of the ceiling and looked at her sister. "Not everyone likes rock, y'know."
"Well, they don't yell bad things about it in my face like he did," Kristi said coolly.
"You insulted what he likes to listen to, too!" The siblings were right in each others faces.
"But he started it."
"Did not."
"Did too!"
"He did not!"
"He did too Ronnie, and you know it! You just want to be nice about your pathetic little boyfriend, because he's the only guy that a person like you could ever manage to get to go on a date with!"
It was hard to tell who was looking more shocked between the two: Kristi or Ronnie.
"I...I didn't mean it," Kristi stammered.
"Right," Ronnie replied as she ran out of the dining room, up the stairs, and to her bedroom. Kristi followed suit.
"Man," she said when she was in her pajamas and deep in the covers of her bed. "That was the worst birthday ever."
It had been four days since Kristi's 'party'. She and Ronnie weren't speaking to each other anymore, and couldn't stand being in the same room as each other. Ronnie wouldn't even tell her sister if she was going anywhere. Kristi did the same one day and went to get ice cream at the store that was a few blocks away. She was only out for twenty minutes. When she came back, Ronnie spoke to her, asking, "Where were you?"
"Gettin' ice cream," Kristi said, frowning. "Why would you care?"
"I dunno," was all that Ronnie could think of to say.
But today was Friday. And it was a nice, cool day. Kristi was excited about this day, because she had gotten to have a brief phone call from Summer the day before. She had told Kristi to get online at eleven, because Marta and Katie would be online too, and they could have a private buddy chat and just talk.
It was ten fifteen, and Kristi was excited. She was sitting at her desk, finishing up some letters. There was one each for Katie, Marta, Summer, and Dewey. They all said thank you for the gifts. The ones for the girls asked why Freddy didn't sent anything, and just said stuff about Kristi's life in California, and how much she hated it. The letters were almost done, when Kristi realized that she was missing something: stamps.
She ran down to the second story. Only one room in her house had stamps in it: Timothy's office.
She ran in it, only to be surprised. Her dad was sitting at his computer typing. He looked up when his daughter ran into the room.
"Dad," she said. "What are you doing back? I mean, you're home early. Why?"
He frowned. "I didn't need to stay any longer at Microsoft. Your mom will be home later this morning. I arrived here last night."
"Oh. Can I use the computer at eleven?"
Timothy thought for a moment, and then said, "No."
"But why?"
"I don't know. Why do you need to use the computer?"
"To talk to my friends online."
He grimaced. "If I was ever going to let you, I've now changed my mind."
Kristi was furious. "So, I can't talk to my friends?"
"Nope." Kristi almost thought that he had smiled when he had said that.
"Fine." She left, but not before she had taken a bunch of stamps from one of the drawers in her father's desk.
As Kristi ran up the stairs, her father said out loud to himself, "And I have to get that package mailed today."
Kristi went up to her room, grabbed the letters, envelopes, and a pen, and went out to her backyard. Her room was really hot and stuffy, and she liked being outside.
She sat down on the blue and white striped porch swing. It was next to the railing, so she could use it as a surface to write on.
Kristi finished up her letters. She stuffed them into the envelopes, and ran into her house.
The first floor was like the basement. There were boxes everywhere. Big ones and small ones, they were stacked everywhere, except for the corner near the door. But there was a guitar stand near it, and a small amp. Kristi practiced in the basement, because Ronnie couldn't stand the loud songs that Kristi played. But something was wrong: her sparkly blue guitar wasn't in the stand.
Kristi was confused. But she didn't think about it for long, because she could hear the mailman's truck coming down the road.
She darted out of the basement and ran out the door and down the long driveway. Just as she got there, the mailman pulled up.
"Do you want to mail those?" he asked in a soft voice as he brushed his sandy-blonde hair out of his face.
"Yes, please," she replied, a little out of breath.
The mailman took the letters and was about to pull away when a male voice called out, "Wait!"
Kristi turned to see who it was, and was shocked. It was her dad, and he was carrying a very large package.
It was like she was paralyzed-she couldn't say anything or move. She watched her dad come up to the truck, hand the mailman the box, and say, "Take care of this, it's worth a lot of money."
The mailman nodded, and it was only when he drove away that Kristi could say anything.
"So, Dad, what were you mailing?" she asked as her dad started to walk away.
He turned around and said, in a really strict tone, "Nothing."
"Oh, it was something. Tell me what it was."
"It not anything that you'd want, or anything that you would important to you." he said. But his bottom lip was twitching, and Kristi knew that he was lying. She thought of something that she would have that was that big.
"No," she suddenly said. It couldn't be. "You...you wouldn't take it....Would you?"
Timothy backing away was as much of a yes as painting the word on a sign and holding it up to Kristi's face. In anger she ran up to him to try to tackle him, but he grabbed her wrists.
"You sold it! You sent it away! Why?" she screamed. She tried to get him to let go. But his grip tightened.
"You have another guitar. But that one-it was rare and valuable," he said. Kristi stopped struggling to listen to her father continue. "I thought that I could get a lot of money off of it on EBay. So I took some pictures of it, and put it up for auction. I thought that it wouldn't go for much. But I was wrong; it want for nine hundred dollars, even though it was used. Some gentleman from New York City bought it. You will never see it again," he finished with a smirk.
Kristi couldn't take it anymore. She loved that electric guitar; it was a huge part of her life. She tried to kick her father where it hurt, but she missed and kicked his knee.
He acted like it didn't hurt, which surprised his daughter. Kristi knew that she could kick pretty hard. Timothy knew that she was thinking, and he used it to his advantage. His strong hands grabbed her shoulders in anger. He was mad at her for being born, for existing. And the anger had bubbled over the boiling pot. He pushed his daughter. She stumbled, and her back hit the post that the mailbox was on.
Pain filled Kristi's back. She slumped onto the nicely kept grass. She wanted to scream, to cry out. But she didn't want her father, who was grinning, to be satisfied anymore then he was.
So instead she yelled, "You dirty person! You liar! Cheater! Abuser!" he frowned at the last one.
"I know who you really are!" Kristi continued screaming. "You are as fowl person who doesn't appreciate his own wife, even! You nasty, rotten son of a–"
"Kristi!" yelled a voice. She turned her neck, despite the pain, and saw her mother's convertible. "How dare you call your father those names!" Then in a small voice, she mumbled, "Even if they are true."
"But he-"
"Go to your room," Timothy's strict voice called out.
"No!" she turned to her mother to try and explain. "Mom, he pushed me and-"
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" Kristi's dad yelled.
So, with much soreness, Kristi got up and slowly walked up to her room. She shut the door, and with pain, got onto her bed, and cried her eyes out.
Later that night, Kristi sat up on her bed. She was in her guitar pajama pants and a black baggy T-shirt. She was a tiny bit afraid to go ask if she could go downstairs. Her stomach growled. She hadn't gotten to eat anything since breakfast.
Her dad suddenly threw open the door.
Kristi turned away. "I don't want to talk to you."
"Well then, the feeling's mutual."
Kristi forced a small smile as her dad walked in.
"Y'know, I don't want you in my room."
"I don't want you."
"Ouch," Kristi mumbled. Then in a louder voice, she said, "Well, I hate you too. You aren't nice to me, you aren't nice to Mom. I saw you beat her. And, I could tell someone that I know. Stephanie's dad is a policeman-he'd love to arrest you."
Anger was coursing through both Timothy and Kristi's veins. The angry father grabbed Kristi's arm and pulled her off of her bed. She let out a scream that was stopped when her dad's foot connected with her jaw.
Just as he had done to his wife, Timothy kicked her daughter, harder and harder with every move.
"You...are...not...to...tell...anyone...," he said in-between kicks. Kristi winced in pain and bravely shook her head to say no.
That was it. He clutched her throat and pinned her up against the wall, making it almost impossible for Kristi to breathe.
"Will you rethink that answer?" he asked.
Kristi was terrified. He father's tone of voice had changed. It was more menacing that before. She would have gone hysterical if she wasn't so angry at him. That anger made her whisper out, as she was struggling for air, "No."
Timothy was frustrated. Hurting his daughter was harder than he thought it would be. He glanced around the room to find something to hurt her more, and saw a blood-stained bread knife on the floor a few feet away from him. He grabbed it, with some difficulty, and slashed Kristi's arm.
Kristi screamed in agony as blood flowed freely from her upper arm. "Alright. I won't tell!" she cried out, but regretted it no sooner then it was out of her mouth.
"Good." Timothy let go of her neck and walked out of the room.
He then turned at the doorway and said, "You might want a towel-it's really bleeding," and then left.
It was midnight. Kristi sat crying on her bed. The wound wouldn't stop bleeding. So, as a last resort, she had taken a bed sheet, ripped it in half, and tightly wrapped and tied it around her arm.
"I can't take it," she said out loud. "I don't want to live her anymore. I hate it, I hate him. What can I do?"
She sat thinking, and then it came to her. "I'll run away."
She took off her pajamas and put on jeans and a tank top. She tried to put a jacket on, but it wouldn't go on over the bed sheet. Kristi then crawled under her bed. There was a small flap of carpet that she lifted up. Underneath it was a fifty dollar bill. She stuck it the bottom of her backpack. She then grabbed a bag from her closet. In it she put in some spare clothes, some cans of food that she took from the kitchen, and a can opener. She also took the knife to defend herself and to just have it with. She zipped up her sack and grabbed her gig bag with her Epiphone in it. She left the amp; where she was going, she wouldn't need it.
She laced up her All Stars and went to her dad's office-the place that she didn't want to be. What she wanted was the wallet that was sitting on the computer desk. Her dad always left it there, for some reason. She took all of the money out of it and put it in her own wallet, which went into her jacket pocket.
Kristi then walked down the steps, out of the house, and into the night.
"Are you sure that you really want to do this?"
"I'm positive." Zack was sitting in a metal wheelchair with a green seat. They were in an empty room. The chairs and trays were pushed away to make a small walkway. Dr. Wentworth and two nurses were standing next to him.
Zack carefully moved the foot-stands and slid so his feet touched the floor. The two nurses each grabbed an arm and helped him up, so he was standing. His legs were shaking a little, but he just stood there, being held up, for a few you, let go of my arms, please?"
As Dr. Wentworth shook his head to say no, the nurses slowly let go of his arms. Zack staggered a little, but pushed the wall to prevent the fall.
His knees felt like Jello as he tried to stand.
Dr. Wentworth, who was standing across the room, hurried over to Zack and said, "Maybe this is a bad idea-"
"No!" Zack tried to step forward towards the doctor, but his feet wouldn't work. He tried to scuff instead, but when the foot moved, he lost his balance and fell to the ground.
The nurses rushed to his side and helped him into the wheelchair.
"But I want to try again. Can't I? I'll do better, I know I will."
"No," came Dr. Wentworth's stern voice. "It won't work. The feeling in your legs probably won't be back. I'm sorry, but you probably won't walk, ever again."
Zack bit his lower lip, trying not to let any tears escape. He was silent as his wheelchair was pushed into a small room where his parents sat, with his brother Adam. They had a small reunion, with a lot of hugs.
The doctor interrupted them and asked Zack, "What color wheelchair would you like?"
"Black-with flames," was his reply. "When do I get it, and when do I get to go home?"
"In a few days," he said as he left the room.
Zack sat in silence as his family started to talk.
A few days later, Zack was pushed out of the hospital by Adam .Why he was smiling, he didn't know. He was out of the hospital, but he didn't have legs that walked. He was pushed over to his parents silver PTCruiser, which had a blue and white handicapped sticker on the license plate.
Handicapped. It was a word that Zack hated. A word that meant no walking. No jumping. No riding dirt bikes. It almost meant no fun. He used to use that word in jokes with his friends, but he regretted it as he was lifted out of his wheelchair by his brother and placed into the car. How could people joke about that stuff?
Zack was quiet as they drove home. After thinking for sometime, he asked his mom, "Mom, we have a two-story house. I can't get up the stairs to my bedroom, so where do I sleep?"
"In the living room-we'll pull out the bed in the couch."
When they got home Zack was thinking that his life had taken a sudden turn for the worst.
The sun was coming up above the trees and small houses. Kristi was walking past a small little community. She had been walking since she had left her house.
Do I really want to do this? she asked herself. Yes, they're mean to you, and you don't need people in your life that do that to you.
She noticed that there was a McDonalds on the road that she was walking on, so she stopped and had something to eat.
When she was done, she kept on walking until she found the place that she was looking for: West Point Train Station. Since airplane tickets were too expensive, she thought that she could take a train ride to where she wanted to go: New York City.
"Excuse me," she said to the man at the ticket booth. "Is there a train that will take me as far East as I would like to go?"
"Why, yes," he replied. "The Clarksburg, West Virginia train left last night at six; the Raleigh, North Carolina train leaves tomorrow, at three o'clock; and the Harrisburg, Pennsylvania one leaves today at two ten."
Kristi's face fell. "That's it?"
The man shuffled through some papers. "Oh, no. One for Albany, New York, leaves in five minutes. But, it's really expensive-"
Kristi pulled out a wad on money and said, "One ticket, please!"
In less than ten minutes, Kristi was on her way to New York. She had gotten on the train with just a minute to spare, and was sitting in a small compartment with only a few other people. The compartment was a little musty, since it had the cheapest seats. When a conductor came by with food, it was a tiny sandwich, a small bag of chips, and little glass of water.
Kristi was glad that she was leaving. Since she was on a train that wouldn't stop, she couldn't turn back. She wasn't feeling regret, but she was afraid that she might.
Later that night, a bunch of people came throughout the tiny compartment. When Kristi asked why they were passing through, someone said to her, "The beds are this way, dear."
Kristi didn't leave the compartment, even though the other passengers did. She would sleep in the seat that she was in. She curled up in it and fell asleep.
It had been a little more than a week, and Kristi was sitting up in the seat. She looked out the window and saw green trees and a small garden.
"Where are we?" she said out loud.
"In Cumberland, Maryland, dear-I just asked," came the gravelly voice of the elderly lady sitting in the next row. Over the week, Kristi had gotten to know the four other passengers in the section. The older lady with short silver-gray hair was Betsy. All eleven of her children lived in Albany. The two men in the back, named Roscoe and Ernie, were motorcyclists. There was a rally in New York that they had to go to. Roscoe had a red mullet, and Ernie had a blonde Mohawk. The last person was a timid twenty-three year old named Emily. She was going home after studying theatre arts in San Jose, California. She had long, frizzy, almond colored hair and thick black glasses.
"What are you writing?" Emily asked, in barely more than a whisper.
"A song, and its not coming along well," Kristi replied. She franticly scribbled out a line with her pen. Then she frustratedly said, "I'm running out of ink."
"Here." Emily threw a pen with a trembling hand. It missed Kristi and skidded on the floor near the door. Kristi jumped to the floor, knocking her backpack onto it, and went to grab it. But there was a foot on it.
She looked up and saw the male ticket taker. His unibrow was furrowed, and his gray eyes were glaring at her.
"Excuse me miss."
Kristi hopped up. "Sorry, sir. I just dropped this here pen that you are stepping on." He then kicked it across the section.
"What was that for?" she angrily shouted. The man just smirked.
Everyone looked at him as he said, "Attention everyone," like the place was full. "I am Conductor Burton, and I need to know the ages of all of our passengers."
Various numbers were shouted out.
"I am seventy-three, sir."
"T-twenty-th-three."
"My buddy is almost forty, and I'm thirty-two."
"I ain't forty, Ern, you are. I'm thirty-seven."
"Nuh-uh."
"Ya-huh. Wanna go?"
"Gentlemen, please," Conductor Burton said. He looked at Kristi, who hadn't replied. "You age, miss."
She weakly smiled. "I just turned thirteen," but remembered that she should lie, quickly added, "I mean, seventeen. I'm seventeen."
Burton sneered. He loved getting little kids, and old adults, into trouble. It gave his boring life something to look forward to every day. He was miserable; his wife left him for a rich, young, man; his children didn't keep in touch; and he had just lost his house. He lived on this train. Making people feel miserable took his pain away.
He adjusted his navy blue vest and said, "So I assume that one of these...fine people...are you parents."
He saw a fire light up in this girl's eyes as she furiously said, "No. I'm running away from them."
That was just what Burton wanted to hear. A little too gleefully, he said, "Well, my dear, you have to have a parent or guardian with you. Since none of these people fit either category, you have to get off at the next stop."
"But you can't do that!"
He loved the upset cry that she gave. "Yes I can."
"But you made that up!"
"No, I didn't," he lied.
"Where do I go when I get off?"
"That's your business miss...um..."
"Kristi."
"Well Miss Kristi, that's up to you. So pack your bags, the next stop's in five."
Kristi formed a 'thumbs up' sign as some cars passed by. It was no use. She had been walking constantly for almost two days on an empty stomach. Her food and water supply was gone, and there were no stores around. Her arms and face were red from the scorching sun, and her feet hurt. She smelled like body odor, and she felt like passing out.
She turned the corner, and that's when she saw it. A Burger King. Kristi frantically looked through her bag, trying to remember where she had put her wallet. "Oh, right, my jacket."
But her jacket wasn't there. She must have left it on the train. She violently cursed and continued walking. The Burger King had been a mirage, and it wasn't the first one.
Early the next morning, Kristi looked up from where she was hurling, and thought she saw a penguin drinking coffee. She wiped her mouth and kept going.
At nine, she saw a train station. Figuring it was a mirage, she ignored it and started to walk on the railroad tracks. But it was hard; the tracks kept moving and spinning.
"Hey! Don't walk on those! A train will be here soon!" a female voice called.
"What? This is a train station?"
"Duh."
Kristi got off and smiled. "Cool."
She went up to an orange ticket booth and asked the redheaded lady about times and prices. She had said that you could take a train to New York City at nine fifteen, and make it there at dark. But, it would cost fifty dollars.
Kristi cursed and threw herself down on a bench. Her backpack clattered onto the pavement. A little blond haired boy, no older than five, picked something up off the ground and said, "Lady, this fell out of your bag."
"Thanks," Kristi mumbled as he skipped away. She unfolded the green paper, not believing her eyes. It was a fifty dollar bill.
She ran up to the ticket booth and cried out, "Quick! One ticket to New York City!"
"You better hurry! The train leaves in thirty seconds!" the lady called out after the running teen.
Kristi opened her eyes to hear a man call out, "Snacks! Anybody want one?"
She shook her head as he walked on by. The train was full; she had purchased one of the last tickets. It felt good to be on an air conditioned train heading to New York. Even though she felt like she could die any minute, life was okay.
A sign emerged into view that said, "Welcome To New York". She softly smiled and closed her eyes, so she wouldn't feel dizzy.
"No way!"
"You can't be serious!"
"That's got to be the biggest bunch of lies that I've ever heard."
"Well, it's not Freddy," Summer Hathaway said. "All of this is true!"
"What's true?" Dewey asked as he came into the room with an apple in his right hand. "I didn't hear it?"
Alicia smiled and said, "Summer told us that-"
"That I sent our press kit to Easy Records-the company down the street from here," she explained. "They talked it over-letting us record there, and gave me a call. And they said that they'd BE HAPPY TO RECCORD OUR CD!!"
A bunch of cheers were let out from all of the band members.
"This rocks!" said Zack, while Freddy rolled his eyes from his seat on the windowsill. Zack was able to come to the meetings, now that he was out of the hospital. He was still in a wheelchair, and his arm was still bandaged up. He added, "But who's going to play lead?"
Everyone fell silent as he continued. "I mean, I don't get my arm out of the cast until next week. Then I have to learn the music. Unless we record in a month, we won't be ready."
"I never thought of that," Summer said in an undertone. "Dang it."
She took her baby blue cell phone out of her jacket pocket and went into the kitchen. After a few minutes, where there was absolute silence, she came back.
"You could have used my phone, Tink," Dewey said. "What did they say?"
Summer sighed. "They said that the latest we could come in is two weeks. They're really busy after that, and they 'don't want to take any extra time to mess with little kids'. We might have to find an extra guitar player. Does anyone know anyone-"
SLAM. The door was pushed open by a girl. She was dragging a guitar on the floor, and she had on a backpack. She had some major sunburn. Her brown hair was greasy her clothes was dirty, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked like she was really sick. No one knew who she was, except for Dewey.
He got up off of the amp he was sitting on and said in a slightly awed, upset, and amazed voice, "Kristi? Is that you?"
"I'm back," she replied in a hoarse voice. Then she collapsed to the ground.
So, what do you think? I hope you liked it. But, I'm officially out of ideas. I would love to hear ideas and suggestions. Just tell me what you'd like to see in a review, and I'll see what I can do. Also, tell me what you thought about the dream. Did it seem realistic enough? Did it make sense? Thanks! Oh, and buttered popcorn Dum-Dums for my faithful reviewers.
Legolas-Aragorn-r-hot- Thanks, Mellon Nin. Is this really like Ariel's story? It not that angst-filled, is it?
Mellowyellow36- Thank you. Since school just started, I don't know how long the wait will be. But I'll try not to wait as long. As for the plate, IT'S MINE!! (Just kidding.) I also have a fork....
Can't remember my username- I like the screen name. I'm surprised I can remember mine (I have a REALLY bad memory). Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you like my story.
Ally124- Thanks. I always love long chapters. Mine sometimes are short, but can get pretty long (like this one).