Young Writers Society

Chapter 1

“Wake up dumbass!” She slams my door open my door without a second thought. I open my eyes to her face glaring at me. “Get the hell out! I am having company over and I can’t have you screwing it up for me!” She slams my door closed, nearly ripping it off its hinge as she storms out of my room. I look at my alarm clock as it glares 5:00 am at me. Her company wouldn’t be over until the evening and she no doubt has gone back to bed. My mother hates me.

As I contemplate actually ignoring her she barges back into my room. So much for the idea of her going back to bed. She grabs onto my hair and yanks me out of bed as stars dart across my eyes. “Didn’t you hear me?” She spits into my ear. I don’t answer. I’m smarter than that. “Get your selfish ass out!” She shoves me towards the door. I grab my sweater before she can push me all the way out of my room. The house is dark as she pulls me towards the door. She opens it and shoves me outside without a second thought, and slams the door. I pull the sweater over my head and start walking. Here’s the thing about walking at 5 in the morning, you have a lot of time to think.

It’s not the first time, and no doubt it’s not the last time I have been treated like this. I’m 17 years old and I have spent more days fearing for my life than living. If there was someone I could have turned to before they aren’t there now. My mother’s treatment of me is nothing but embarrassing now that it’s gone on for so long. No one would believe me anyways. That’s something my mom is good at, the best at when you think about it. She is always careful when she hits me. Never to be seen but there to remind me what a mistake and a waste of space I am to her. And if anyone knew I don’t know how I could ever stand the piteous look that would come across their eyes.

It’s a Sunday in November here in our small town. The leaves have started to fall and crinkle under my worn out sneakers I had slept in. I’m glad I was too tired to take them off now. I grab a rubber band out of my hair and tie up its long brown tresses into a neat bun. I walk until I reach the swing set at the park near the apartment my mother and I live in. I sit on the swing and grab the chains so hard the specks of rust on them dig into my hands. I kick my feet and start to pump them, making myself fly higher and higher until I feel as if I can touch the sky. I close my eyes and for a second I can pretend like everything is normal. I can imagine living in the big houses on the hill the kids at my school live in. I can almost believe I am worth something to somebody, that the money my mother makes at her job isn’t spent on booze. I can nearly grasp the idea that maybe someday things will be better. Despite the safety closing my eyes brings I open them. I remember I am just Katelyn Wires and nothing will change anytime soon no matter how badly I want it to.

I want to stay at the swings all day. Getting higher and higher until it’s impossible for me to come down. But I can’t. I walk into town and down Main Street, and by now people are starting to trickle in for end of the week shopping. The town I live in isn’t huge. It isn’t even big, but it’s nice. There is a school for each level, each with a heavy effort on all subjects. Several Grocery stores and markets ranging from the farmers market to the general liquor store. There is an apartment complex and a park, and then there is “The Hill”. “The Hill” is where a majority of our population resides. There are so many students that live on the hill that for the one’s who don’t live there, well let’s just say for me, home and school aren’t much different. If you’re lucky you’re ignored but I don’t think I was ever meant to have luck grace me with its presence. Take for example the fact that walking down the street now are Amanda and Grace.

Here is the thing about the Popular Girls at, Eastwood High School; they are the root of evil. They walk around daily with satin on their shoulders conducting the destruction of anyone and everyone they deem not worthy. And if my mother doesn’t find me worthy why should they be any different?

“Hey loser. Why the hell are you here? It’s not like you have money to buy things on this street.” Amanda snickers at me.

“Amanda, what if she is selling herself on the street.” Grace adds.

“Grace that is so disgusting! But its probably true” Amanda laughs as they walk away.

The whole time this is happening I stare at the wall to my right. When I look ahead I see him. Jamie is looking at me with a so much pity I nearly cry. Jamie is the star quarterback at Eastwood, the cities golden boy, and the current most wanted bachelor at my school. He is also extremely gorgeous and to top it off, wealthy beyond my dreams, due to both his parent’s being the in demand plastic surgeons of our town. And right now he is looking at me as if I am a wounded war soldier. I turn on my heel before he can humiliate me more.

I walk to the lake behind the general store. In the winter it freezes over and becomes a solid ice rink. I used to sneak out at night and practice skating on it with a pair of stolen skates. No one is around that late and I can be free. Other than the swing set at the park, skating is where I can fly. But since my mother’s late night beatings I haven’t found the courage much less the strength to skate in years. Right now the lake is deserted. I look down into its black core and just stare at the still reflection of me. Hollow cheeks and full lips in a constant frown lie beneath my blue eyes. They are big and round, almost creating a deer in headlights effect that doesn’t help with the target that must be on my back. The eyes staring back are blank, seeming to go on forever. But those aren’t really my eyes. My eyes are tired, and have seen way too much pain.

I walk the town limits until sunset. I make my way home, hoping my mother is conked out on our worn out couch. I would rather not start tomorrow with fresh bruises. No such luck as I walk through the door. My mother’s cold eyes look at me as I open the door to our apartment. I have seen these eyes too many times to pretend they are something they aren’t. I look around the apartment and see her guest’s all turn to face me. I look at my mother, as if to say come at me now! It’s dangerous to play this game with her. She won’t hit me while her guests are here, but if she isn’t too tired by the time their gone I will only face the worst of her wrath. I contemplate going back outside when my mother’s cold voice slurs, “Katelyn, sweetie, did you have fun at the movies?”

“Yes mother.” I reply, playing along.

“Well you must be tired, off to bed. Now.” She says.

As I walk past her she pinches my arm so hard I nearly scream, but I don’t. I walk to my room and sit on my bed. I stare at the four walls and hold back the tears that threaten to break through the surface. Screaming, crying, they don’t stop her, only make her try harder. I listen for the sign that the party is over. It’s not until midnight that I hear my mother sigh and turn of the lights. I hold my breath as she starts to walk towards her room, waiting to see if she will pass mine over. I breathe a sigh of relief when she does. I think about how I will make it through school tomorrow as I climb into bed, fully dressed.

I wake up at 6 o’clock and start to get ready. I am so quiet trying not to wake my mother that I know if was to drop a pin I would hear it as if it were a clap of thunder over head. I grab myself a string cheese from our fridge. I haven’t eaten since Saturday morning and decide to risk my mother’s wrath when I get home for taking the food. I close the door behind me when I walk out and start my walk to school. It’s freezing outside, and I could take the bus if I needed too, but I made that mistake once and do not plan on repeating it. Busses aren’t meant for people like me to ride, they are a trap for the feeble to fear and the strong to remind us of who they are. I listen to the beat of my steps and match it to my heart beat. Sometimes, when I am really quiet that is all I hear, the steady, predictable, beating of my heart.

I turn the corner and walk into the school. I walk to my homeroom as the kids trickle in with me. I haven’t used my locker since freshman year. That was a mistake, much like the bus. I knew I would only have my books get ruined if I kept them in there, and I don’t have the money to replace them. So I carry everything I need in a backpack I have had since third grade. It was a gift my teacher had given me when she saw I came to school using a zip lock bag to carry school supplies. As embarrassed as I was to be given this charity it was far more humiliating not to have the back pack.

I look watch the door as people come into the classroom. It’s not a big class and most of the kid’s share a class or two with me. I pull out a notebook, when someone sits next to me. I nervously set my notebook on the desk and start pulling at the fraying ends of my sleeves. I have seen this done before, someone sits next to me and as soon as the teacher isn’t looking starts to steal my things. I don’t understand why they would want the few supplies I have, but they do, and I am far to scared to stop them.

I am scared to look to see who will make me their next victim but I know I need to see who it is so I know who not to blame if anyone ever did ask, although I doubt someone would. So when I see Jamie sitting next to me I feel my face turn pale as the lined notebook paper on my desk. The desks sit two to a table and I see plenty of open desks. I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t need to sit with me when the bell rings.

The teacher is already at the front of the room and taking role call when I get the note next to my hand. I unfold it and read one word at the top. “Hi.” it says in boyish scrawl. I shake my head at him and hand him back the note without writing him back. He starts to write on it again. “You know most people say hi back.” And he slides it back over to me. I just shake my head no again and start to copy down notes. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the period. When the bell rings I rush to get up grabbing my notebook and heaving my backpack over my shoulder and run out.

I dodge through the hall way to get to my next class, which just so happens to be P.E. which also happens to be with Amanda and Grace. I take a deep breath as I push the locker room door open. I walk past a few aisles as I reach my P.E. locker. Like my actual locker I don’t use it. I carry my P.E. clothes in my backpack and quickly change to avoid anyone seeing the healing and newly forming bruises that scatter my back like a connect the dots. We are running today so I lace up my shoes and walk out. I figure I can outrun most of the kids but know I should pretend like I can’t and be the slowest runner. I get into place and start to run. I keep a steady pace and am relaxed until Amanda and Grace slow down. I nearly run into her and when she yells, “Watch it, Freak!” I almost trip over Grace’s extended leg. I catch myself before I do and start running the fastest I ever have. I finish before anyone else and ask the coach if I can change and go to the nurse. He says sure not even bothering to comment on my time which I am sure is at a record breaking high. I run into the locker room and change. I don’t plan on going to the nurse so I wander the halls for the remainder of the period.

It isn’t until lunch when I see Jamie again. I am sitting up in a tree in the quad. We aren’t supposed to but I am so high up most of the monitors don’t notice me, and the ones who do don’t seem to care all that much. I am watching, hidden as Amanda tries to flirt with him. I laugh to myself at her unsuccessful attempt. At least I thought I was laughing to myself. I see Jamie look up and right at me. His eyes flicker with confusion and laughter. I stare back because there isn’t anywhere else to look and frankly if there was something else to see I doubt I could have torn my eyes away from his. Some people to that to you though. They hold you in their grasps no matter how badly you want them to let go.