Zion

Detention is something that I'm used to. Harlow never got detention, but Zion probably has set records. I wasn't afraid to speak my mind or stand up for myself, but that stuff I was saying back in Peterson's class I'm not quite sure why I said that. I didn't even know the girl, but yet again I knew her type.

Zita Fuentes was probably the richest girl in the school, she wasn't that popular, but just the fact that she had so much money made me sick. She could have whatever she wanted while I sat around and froze my ass off all winter just trying to survive.

The girl didn't even talk. Her arrogance was radiating off into my own personal bubble and it made me go a little too far.

One time Dax tried to steal Cruz Fuentes' car. That's how I found out about Zita.

It was sophomore year and Dax was bored. He drug me around town and we came across a black Mercedes. He ran for it, while I stood look out in the bushes.

I guess I wasn't a very good lookout, and the fact that Dax set the alarm off didn't help either, because Cruz came running out from the building it was parked behind.

Dax froze and my heart started racing. I thought that Dax was gone for sure, I thought that I would never see him again.

To both our surprises Cruz just threw him the keys and said, "You need the keys to start it up. You know if you don't want to hot wire it."

Dax was so surprised that he let the keys fall to the ground and sprinted towards the warehouse. Cruz watched him go and turned his attention towards the bush I was hiding in.

"You can come out. I didn't do anything to your friend. I'm not gonna do anything to you."

I was even more surprised that he knew I was hiding. I got to my feet and look him in the eye for a long second.

I shook my head and started walking after Dax, "You're fuckin' stupid, I hope you know that. But thanks, you just basically saved both our lives."

He nodded once and watched me as I went.

Somebody told me later that Cruz had a sister in my grade, I watched her on the soccer field one day. I didn't really get a good look, but the way she carried herself told me enough, she thought she was better than everybody else.

After detention I walked the three miles back to the warehouse. I managed to steal some kid's gym shoes after first hour. They were a bit too small for me, but they were nice. They would fit Dax if anything else.

When I got home the only ones there were Dax, Pace, and Vi. They were all sitting in our makeshift living room. Dax on the floor, building a card house. Pace was sitting on the floor next to him, his back against the couch and guitar in his hand. Vi was laying on the couch reading a magazine.

"Oh, Mr. Smarty-pants is home!" Dax said with no enthusiasm, looking up from his card tower for a second.

I sat down next to him and knocked his tower down, "Can you shut the fuck up already?"

"Are you kidding me, Z? I've been workin' on that all day!" He said, his face scrunching up in annoyance.

"Exactly, like I said this morning. Get a fuckin' job."

He laughed, "I thought we also decided that we need an address for a job too."

"And a social security number that isn't claimed to be missing," Pace added, strumming a chord on his guitar and scribbling something down on a notepad.

Dax nodded, "Yeah, we can't all be like you and buy a number off some drunk in the back alleyway."

I sighed, "Fine, then I'll get a job."

"Why?" Dax asked.

" 'Cause I'm sick of stealing everything and mooching off Pace's tips from his gigs, or asking Jordan to spot me."

Dax laughed, "Z, that's part of our lifestyle! We're defeating the odds. The homeless youth of America, becoming self-sustained!"

I laughed without humor, "Dax, you have the wrong idea. We're living off of other homeless kids."

He shrugged, starting to stack cards again.

I looked at my best friend. Dax was always smaller than me, ever since I met him. I may have been on the taller side, but Dax was on the shorter side. He was five four and weighed about fifty pounds less than I did. His red hair stuck up all over the place all the time. It was the kind of red hair that reminds you of fire, you could almost consider it orange. Dax's hair said a lot about his personality. He was firey, he never backed down.

"Whatever," I muttered and got to my feet.

"Where you going?" Dax asked, looking up at me with his big brown eyes.

"My room."

"Got homework?" He asked with a smirk.

"Fuck you," I muttered and walked the little ways to where the curtains hung that served as my room.

I could still hear Dax's laughter and Pace's guitar. I always dreamed about having a room where I could lock the rest of the world out, but that wasn't possible the way we lived.

The way our room works, was quite simple. Since the warehouse was basically a big open room, we each claimed a square that served as our "room". We managed to use poles and curtain rods to hang up curtains and sheets to serve as walls. There was a slit in the curtain that opened and that we used as a door.

We managed to get all of our mattresses and furniture from dumpsters and street corners. None of them were in the best shape, but they cut it.

My room was the only room that used one of the cement walls holding up the warehouse instead of four walls made of curtains, I only had three walls made of curtain. The thing with my room is that that it had a window that wouldn't shut all the way. The window was a blessing in the summer, since I got the breeze off the lake, but a curse in the winter because the same breeze managed to come in.

I got a little carried away with my invention of battery operated Christmas lights and my whole room was surrounded by them. I had a full size bed that laid flat on the ground with no box spring. My clothes were held in one of those plastic see through drawers that had wheels on the bottom. I had a bean bag chair and a night stand with a battery operated alarm clock and a few books. I had three blankets on my bed and two pillows. That's basically all I owned, that's basically all I needed.

I threw my backpack in the corner of my room, where it would stay until the next day, I rarely did homework. I slammed myself on my bed and looked up at the cracking rafters, it was only a matter time until they fell down completely.

I reached under my pillow and pulled out the notebook I kept. Every day I wrote a quote in the notebook. Every day the quote was how I was feeling. Sometimes it was made up, sometimes I saw if or remembered it from somewhere.

I started the notebook right before I ran away. I was locked in my room one night, bored stiff and I just started writing lines down that related to my life. One thing about having a photographic memory was the fact that I could tell you almost anything I did on any given day, but I just needed a slight reminder. The notebook was a reminder, it was so I wouldn't forget my life.

I opened it up to the page I was writing on and scribbled:

"This is life where we pray for dollars and work for change."

-Atmosphere

I spent a while flipping through the quotes and trying to remember what struck me to write those lines.

After a while I put the notebook back under my pillow and fumbled around for my pill bottle on my night stand. I read the label they were prescribed to, Gerald Kinton. Who the hell was Gerald Kinton and why did his drugs end up in the hands of a drug dealer.

"Z! Abby and Logan are making food! Bon fire on the beach!" Dax's voice yelled before ripping my curtain open.

"Jesus, Dax! Do you mind?" I yelled and swallowed my pill.

Dax laughed, "Why? What the hell were you about to do?"

I glared at him and got to my feet, "You have a sick mind, my friend."

I started walking to the back door. Dax followed.

"Honestly, Zion, when was the last time you got laid?" He asked.

"Dax! Does it ever occur to you that there is more things to worry about than sex?"

We were now on the beach, Dax laughed, "No! Come on it'll loosen you up a bit. You're kind of being uptight lately."

"Not, uptight. Stressed."

"Stressed about what?" Conner asked, passing Dax and me a hot dog and roasting stick.

"Zion hasn't had sex in months," Dax answered.

I glared at him, "I really fuckin' hate you."

Jordan and Pete laughed.

"Dax, let him be," Logan said, defending me.

"Thanks, Log," I told her.

"Man, we need to go out tonight!" Pete said, over enthused.

"No, we really don't, "I said.

"Pussy," Dax muttered.

Logan covered Tanner's ears, "Dax!"

Dax shrugged and bit into his now blackened hotdog.

"You guys know I hate going out. I can't drink or smoke with you guys. Do you realize how boring clubs are when you're the only sober one?"

"Then get a new heart," Pete muttered, biting into his fourth hotdog.

"How much have you smoked today?" Pace asked him.

He shrugged.

Abby sighed, "I know how you feel, Z. I can't do anything, either. I don't get laid either."

"You're pregnant, you don't need to get laid," Dax muttered.

"Take it from me, children. Sex leads to bad things," Abby said, her hands flying up.

We all looked at her for awhile, Dax broke the silence, "We're totally going out."

And that's what we ended up doing. Jordan snuck us into a club and my friends got drunk and high. I sat and watched them, hating myself every minute.

Dax handed me a drink, I know I wasn't supposed to touch alcohol. It messed up my heart rate even more, but I didn't care. I drank one drink and was pushed towards a blonde with too much make up and a dress that barley covered her butt.

I had sex with her in the men's bathroom. I didn't even know her name, I didn't even know her age. I barley saw her face.

Once we were down and she left. I puked four times and still had the taste of her lipstick in my mouth.