"I'm not saying you're doing it wrong," Raven spoke, reading her friend's math problem. Underlining a number and giving him the notebook, she smiled with her usual smugness. "But you are doing it wrong." she whispered loudly, making the others laugh. Clarke, sitting between the Blake siblings, was too busy with her history essay. Or at least she said so, because the latina could see a small smirk on her face. I wonder what must she be thinking about.
"But I don't understand, I made no calculation mistakes."
"Seriously, Finn? Are you telling me that a hundred fifty plus five thousand twenty nine is five thousand seventy nine?"
"Fuck. Thanks, you just saved my life."
"Learn to count, idiot." she laughed.
"Hey, Raven!" the boy ran after her, trying to stop her from walking out of the white house before he could speak to her. "I was thinking, that you're new in school and that stuff, and maybe you could use a… friend. Do you, uh, do you wanna go out some day this week? Go watch a movie, eat out somewhere, or something like that?"
The girl was part startled, part amazed, part offended. Startled, because she had met the boy two hours ago. He was a classmate and a friend of Clarke's, but he and Raven had never spoken. He was nice, good-looking, even smart despite his lack of math skills. But he was already suggesting something that sounded quite like a date. Amazed, because a nice, good-looking smart boy had decided to ask her out two hours after having met. It made her feel more appealing, and she liked to know even these rich white kids could feel attracted to her. Offended, because she had come to that prestigious school to study and earn a future. Not to meet boys who procrastinated their homework all week and then rushed in the study group to do them. And that was if they didn't have the opportunity to either copy or have someone else do his homework, of course.
Wait, Raven. He has been working hard, don't put him under the 'fuckboy category'. He has been nice and respectful, give him an opportunity. Maybe he just wants to be friends, don't be the bitch everyone tells you you are. You have the chance to start again in a new school. "Okay." she smiled and shrugged.
"Okay… I'll text you then."
After the study group meeting, she had gone home and prepared lunch, her usual mac and cheese. Packing it in a plastic container and placing it into her bag, she carefully tied it to the rear rach and sighed. She was already exhausted, and she hadn't entered the garage yet. She started pedaling, rushing through narrow streets and dirty roads. Five minutes later, she punched in and grinned at her boss.
"Hey there, young lady." he laughed. The garage was placed in the outskirts of the city, in the end of one of the richest neighborhoods. It was in 'Frontier Street', as they called it. If you kept going north, you'd end up in the beautiful suburbs. You would be able to admire the two story houses, with their yards of perfectly trimmed grass. If you went south, you would end up in a neighborhood full of prostitution, drug dealers and crime. It took time to realize the many differences if you simply walked down that street. But the change was obvious if you compared where you had started and where you had ended up. It was a gradual change, but noticeable at some point.
If you were lucky and you were able to take a look at the city from the air, you found an alluring but shocking view. In the center, skyscrapers that were home for the majority of the working-class population. Around them, small houses owned by a richer working-class. Then there were the frontiers, streets that acted as symbolic barriers between the neighborhoods. The outskirts of the city were full of larger, more expensive mansions and parks. Luckily for her, Raven's father had been a soldier. After his death they received a nice house down near the outskirts to live in. She was lucky to not to be living in the lower floors or basements of the skyscrapers. Too many people in not much space, the town was overpopulated. Everyone knew that, but no one cared.
"Hey Mike. Whatcha got for me today?" she asked a dark-haired Colombian man who was standing next to a blue, luxurious car. She was the only female in a garage with more than twenty employees, and a little sister or daughter to most of them. Despite what many people thought, she was better than the majority of them. Far from jealous, they were proud she had earned a good reputation. The youngest, brightest mechanic in the garage. And probably in town, although she did not like to brag about it.
Abigail Griffin lived in that same house the group had met that morning. Of course, whenever Clarke and her friends had a study group, she found a excuse to leave the house. Today it had been doing shopping, and she got home almost at lunchtime. Clarke was saying goodbye to the Blake siblings, the lasts to leave. The woman didn't know, but Raven had left five minutes earlier. It seemed that that time fate didn't want them to meet. With a smile she waved at the teenagers from the driveway and brought the groceries inside. Putting the fruit in a bow on the kitchen table and the rest of the food in the fridge, she waited for Clarke to come in.
"Hi mom." Clarke spoke from the door, entering the kitchen and taking a banana from the bowl. Her voice was unnaturally neutral, as if she was not there. As if her words to her mother were automatic, a robot speaking instead of a girl. Of course, the girl's relationship with her mother was dysfunctional. They loved each other, or at least Abby hoped so. But they were not close, or friendly. How could they, when the woman had been the reason for her father not to be alive anymore. They talked, but never of actually important topics. School, work, cleaning the house. Nothing more. We barely know each other, the woman realized from time to time.
Little did remain from the happy family that was shown in the pictures on the walls. The brown haired man had died some years ago, and now it was just both women living together. Between them, no jokes, no smiles, no laughs. Just silence, or short sentences. She still hates me, after months of discovering Jake died because of me. My own daughter.
Of course, Clarke had always loved her father more than she loved her mother. When she was little he bought her all kinds of art supplies, and picked her up from school. Meanwhile, the woman worked all day in a school in the West Coast, miles away from them. After being in the army for so many years, the man had decided to be a stay-at-home dad. It didn't matter how many times the woman visited, no matter how many gifts she brought to the little girl. It was never enough.
I'll never be enough.
"Hi dear. How was the meeting today?" the woman replied with all the love she could, trying to show her daughter she cared. All she got as a reply was a soft hum, as usual, before Clarke left the room and walked out of the house. You could at least answer, or tell me where you go, the woman thought. Walking towards the window and seeing the girl hug Wells Jaha, her best friend, made her sigh in relief. At least I know you will be safe… I'm trying really hard to be a good mother, Clarke. Why don't you see it? The two teenagers disappeared down the street, and Abigail was left alone.
Again.