Chapter 2 - Sepia in Winter
It had been only three months since I met him. No longer simply chilly, it was positively frigid here on December seventeenth. As usual, Sky came to Mulberry Lane after school, trudging across the split sidewalk after racing down the street, his backpack slung over one shoulder and blond hair rippling in the wind. He hadn't cut it in at least four months; it definitely needed a haircut.
"Hey, Sepia," he called out.
"Hi," I replied quietly. I don't think he heard me, but after knowing me for a while, he knew what I meant. He slowed down as he approached me and my sorry home. Sky must have sprinted all the way to Mulberry Lane from school; it wasn't even three o'clock yet.
I don't go to school. I try to home school as best I can, but it's kind of hard when I don't even have a computer or any schoolbooks with which to teach myself anything. None. You see, my dad is a bit messed-up. he's drunk most of the time, and he barely goes out of the house except to occasionally go to the grocery store and get some booze, and if I'm lucky, some real groceries. I do the cooking, and pretty much take care of myself most of the time. I earn any money we get by working at a little coffee shop a few blocks from the house, and of course we still have the small supply of money Mom left us.
Once upon a time, Dad was just a regular, loving old dad. That is, until Mom died. Then, he started drinking and I started working. We moved to here, Nebraska, right after the funeral, and fortunately I'm old enough now to take care of myself. I never started school because for one, Dad would never and could never drive me there himself, and also because I didn't know where the school was until it was too late, when Sky came and told me. I didn't think it was even worth it at that point. Sky didn't argue, that is, until that day in December.
We went inside for some hot chocolate that I had managed to earn at the shop, on account of my really nice old boss. Everything was white that day, it seemed: the old ladies at my work, the coffee mugs, the marshmallows in our hot cocoa. And especially the snow. I can't believe I didn't mention it before - it filled the street, the ground, the trees...it was piled up, white after white after white layers of flakes on the window, on the roof, on the doorstep. We were lucky to have warm, chocolatey drinks with their gooey white marshmallows on a day like this.
"You know, Sepia," Sky said, sipping at his steaming mug, "you really should go to school. I mean, if you think about it, how else are you gonna get a life? You know you can't just stay at that little tiny coffee shop, filling and refilling mugs forever."
I frowned, slipping my hands around the comforting, chipped surface of my drink.
"They used to tease me at school. Bully me. Hurt me," I mumbled, even softer than I usually speak. A Sepia whisper in the air.
"C'mon. I'll be there if anyone tries to bully you. Please?" He looked so hopeful, those blue eyes with the white, white whites. The smile with the perfect white teeth. Perfect white face. Perfect white hair. I had to.
"I suppose," I replied, a tiny bit louder this time. He grinned again.
"Thanks, Sepia." I managed a small smile, but I was so out of practice, my lips would barely even part.
At that moment, my dad came in. Stupid Max. My dad. A little scared that he would not take it easily if he were to spot Sky sitting at our table, I hurriedly led my friend outside to let my father roam around on his own, safe from losing control in front of us.
Despite the freezing weather, we stayed out there for the better part of half an hour, tromping through and in and around the snow, and attempting to climb the frozen tree by my house. I had never been able to get to the top of that tree; it was just so tall and the branches were too far apart for me or Sky. I so wanted to get up there, though. I know this sounds cheesy, but I looked up at the topmost branches and just thought that it would make me feel so light and free, like maybe I could do anything.
Free from fear and too much wishing. And silence. Free from the fear that my dad, no matter how careless he is, would be taken away from me. Dead. Arrested. Me to a place that I know would be far worse than a drunk father and a moldy house. Free from wishing my heart out for the impossible. Mom will never be back, ever. Free from the silence of my house, of my father. Of myself.
I know I have it bad, but I also know that other people have it worse: Not Skyler. Not my dad. Not even my mom. People that I don't care about, people that I don't love. In my world, I am the most miserable, the most depressed. Nobody feels more terrible than I do. Nobody.
I am not proud to be Cassiopeia Jenkins.
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