done.
I slowly walk up behind her, but I don’t know what to say; so I just stand there waiting for her to do something or say something. When she finally turns to look at me, she has tears in her eyes and falls into me with her head on my chest. She is openly sobbing into me and still not knowing what to do I just hold her, trying once again to convey my emotions to her through my actions.
When she pulls back, she has a new emotion in her eyes. I don’t know what it is, but something in me tells me she needs me. I kiss her again, this time with all of the emotion I can manage to put into a kiss. The bell rings. She seems to be doing better, so I take her hand and walk her to class.
The urge to take her away is getting stronger with every moment I spend with her, and I am going to need to find a way to channel this into something other than that. I wonder if her middle name is “trouble”?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tenley
I don’t know how he did it, but for the rest of that day, every time I left a class that he wasn’t in with me, he was waiting by the door by the time I got there. It took me until about sixth hour to realize that he was going to be there after every class. It was so comforting. I had always been so alone, that having someone there with me in the hall made my day that much better.
He sat with me during my lunch hour, which I learned he shared with me, and worked on drawing while I sat and did homework. I explain to him that I have to do all of my homework at school because most of the time, my mother takes my backpack as soon as I walk in the door, so I finish it all at school and then put it in my locker. On the days when she doesn’t take it away, she does what she did on Saturday, and I have to start everything over. Therefore, doing it at school is really the only chance I have of getting any kind of good grades at all.
“Do your teachers know this happens?” he asks incredulously.
“See, the thing with her is, I mean, you saw it with your dad, but she can put on the sweetest face in the world, and she is extremely charming when she needs to be. When I tell my teachers that this goes on, usually they will go and talk to the guidance counselor about it, and then he will call and talk to her. She puts on her best flirty voice and explains that I have issues with lying and that she will do her best to help in any way she can; but I am a problem child, and she just doesn’t know what to do anymore. Inevitably, he then calls me into his office and I get a lecture about lying. This has happened every single year since eighth grade. I didn’t even bother to say anything this year. I just made sure I have enough free time during the day to get done what I need to get done. If I don’t have enough time, then I get a bad grade. That’s just how it is.”
“I am so sorry that you have to go through all this. I wish there was something that I could do to help,” he says sadly.
“You would be surprised at how nice it is just to have you sit with me.”
“Where is your dad while all of this is happening?”
“I have never even met him. They were so young that I guess it was just too much, and he took off almost immediately. I have no idea even what his name is.”
“So the way she treats you, that’s why you made that comment about being dead when you grow up?”
“She hates me. She has made that clear from the start. Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with someone who not only hates you, but hates herself and blames you for that, too?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, the way I see it, the only way that I can make her happy is to be dead.”
“When is your birthday?”
“That’s random.”
“No, I am just asking because you have to be close to turning eighteen, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, in two years, but what then? My grades are too bad to go to college. I can’t get a job because I have no car; I have no money to buy a car because I have no job. It’s a vicious
I slowly walk up behind her, but I don’t know what to say; so I just stand there waiting for her to do something or say something. When she finally turns to look at me, she has tears in her eyes and falls into me with her head on my chest. She is openly sobbing into me and still not knowing what to do I just hold her, trying once again to convey my emotions to her through my actions.
When she pulls back, she has a new emotion in her eyes. I don’t know what it is, but something in me tells me she needs me. I kiss her again, this time with all of the emotion I can manage to put into a kiss. The bell rings. She seems to be doing better, so I take her hand and walk her to class.
The urge to take her away is getting stronger with every moment I spend with her, and I am going to need to find a way to channel this into something other than that. I wonder if her middle name is “trouble”?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tenley
I don’t know how he did it, but for the rest of that day, every time I left a class that he wasn’t in with me, he was waiting by the door by the time I got there. It took me until about sixth hour to realize that he was going to be there after every class. It was so comforting. I had always been so alone, that having someone there with me in the hall made my day that much better.
He sat with me during my lunch hour, which I learned he shared with me, and worked on drawing while I sat and did homework. I explain to him that I have to do all of my homework at school because most of the time, my mother takes my backpack as soon as I walk in the door, so I finish it all at school and then put it in my locker. On the days when she doesn’t take it away, she does what she did on Saturday, and I have to start everything over. Therefore, doing it at school is really the only chance I have of getting any kind of good grades at all.
“Do your teachers know this happens?” he asks incredulously.
“See, the thing with her is, I mean, you saw it with your dad, but she can put on the sweetest face in the world, and she is extremely charming when she needs to be. When I tell my teachers that this goes on, usually they will go and talk to the guidance counselor about it, and then he will call and talk to her. She puts on her best flirty voice and explains that I have issues with lying and that she will do her best to help in any way she can; but I am a problem child, and she just doesn’t know what to do anymore. Inevitably, he then calls me into his office and I get a lecture about lying. This has happened every single year since eighth grade. I didn’t even bother to say anything this year. I just made sure I have enough free time during the day to get done what I need to get done. If I don’t have enough time, then I get a bad grade. That’s just how it is.”
“I am so sorry that you have to go through all this. I wish there was something that I could do to help,” he says sadly.
“You would be surprised at how nice it is just to have you sit with me.”
“Where is your dad while all of this is happening?”
“I have never even met him. They were so young that I guess it was just too much, and he took off almost immediately. I have no idea even what his name is.”
“So the way she treats you, that’s why you made that comment about being dead when you grow up?”
“She hates me. She has made that clear from the start. Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with someone who not only hates you, but hates herself and blames you for that, too?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, the way I see it, the only way that I can make her happy is to be dead.”
“When is your birthday?”
“That’s random.”
“No, I am just asking because you have to be close to turning eighteen, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, in two years, but what then? My grades are too bad to go to college. I can’t get a job because I have no car; I have no money to buy a car because I have no job. It’s a vicious
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