A Work In Progress... part one

The wind blew breezily across the yard, making the tree branches brush up against the window out of which she stared. Somewhere, beyond the tops of the trees, beyond the deep blue-green of the bay, somewhere far away from here, was a place where she could be free-a place where she wouldn’t cry herself to sleep, a place that she could call home.
A noise outside the door stirred her from her daydreams, and beckoned her come see. It was nothing, as she suspected but the wind howling through the trees. Maybe it actually is someone trying to get in. Then they could kid nap me, and take me away… far away, she thought wistfully. But she had dreamed too many day dreams, and had wished too much to know better. Wishes don’t come true, and prayers are never heard- much less answered. So what’s the point? There wasn’t one- so she no longer wished.
She shook herself from her thoughts, and paused a minute to look at her reflection in the mirror; her pale visage, her tear stained face, her red, puffy eyes, her little red nose that ached form the tissues- this was all normal, and she knew this reflection all too well, saw it way too often. She ran cold water over her face, blotted on some make-up and ran to catch the bus for school. No one would be the wiser- they didn’t pay attention anyways.
At school she blended in with the motionless throng of people, and rode the wave of conformity until she reached her first period class. She took her seat in the back gratefully, and prepared herself for the lecture that was sure to come. She sat emotionless staring off into the bright florescent lights that captivated her attention, like a moth to a flame, it was inevitable. Lost in thought and images she didn’t realize the class was dismissed. Nice of her teacher to tell her this- now she’ll be late for second period. Not like it mattered, it’s only gym- and I think I’m in pretty good shape. So she went to the library like she did on occasions like today when her life seemed to be pulling her in one direction, while her body was forced to stay behind. She hated this place, the old musty smelling halls, the Grover Dale Dingbats, the whole damn community! But she didn’t have a choice; her father had made her come. Why couldn’t she have stayed home? Why? That seemed to be her million dollar question.
At the end of the last semester of eighth grade, her father got offered a job, a good job, six hours away and in the middle of Hicksville USA! The town she lived in was the closet/cheapest place to live in her dads commute to the city. It consisted of a church, a stop light, a convenience store/gas station, and a food mart. You had to go in town, in town to get anything else; took you about a good 30 minute drive. She hated it there. She missed her friends, her school, her job, her mom, but most of all she missed her life.

The untold story

When she was twelve, Shaylin’s parents were divorced. She was devastated, as any kid is. Only she wasn’t one of those lucky divorced kids; she could remember what it was like before. She could remember the days they used to spend walking in the park, picking up pretty shells on the beach together. Together, family, these were words she no longer recognized, and she didn’t want to remember the times she had shared in, in which they existed. But you can’t stop memories, no matter how hard you try.
Her mom and dad fought bitterly. She was used like an object in court; the house, the car, the boat, and oh yea- the kid. Her dad got custody, and soon after took the job in Grover Dale. Her mom stayed home, living the life she longed to live. She had begged her dad to let her stay home, she wanted to live with her mom, and she wanted to experience as little change as possible. But he wouldn’t listen. She was now “his responsibility” even though mom wanted it too. But then again, that is why he did it. Out of spite for me I guess. But why do I have to be in the middle of it? Why is he using me as a pawn? I’m so sick of it! She left him not me. He’s the only one who should be bitter, but he is rubbing it off on me. She now despised her life- or lack there of. And she now hated her dad, something she never thought possible. But the impossible had seemed to happen more recently now than ever before. And she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t do anything.
For the first year in Hicksville, she had no friends, no job, no life and no reason for existence. Now working on her second year, she marked one off the list; the job. She was working at the convenience store on weekends pumping gas and washing windshields- definitely not her dream job. She missed working at the cute little pizza place on the corner at home. The neat little red and white checkered table clothes, the melting wax candles on every table, the smell of oregano and parsley when you walked through the door. But what she missed the most was the people; the friendly tourists visiting from places far away, the local gossip that was spread by the usual customers who ordered their usual things.
Her job consisted of cleaning and wiping of tables, cashiering and prepping dough for the next days’ shift. When she was lucky, she got to cook- which was the best part of all. And when the shop was all quiet, she would sit on a stool and watch as Lorenzo tossed the dough and skillfully patterned the sauce. That was her job. Not this feeble attempt at making money, with the blatant and outright disrespect showed to her by everyone. Too many times to count while washing the windows, some mean spirited red neck would turn on the wipers and fluid, or spin the tires causing dirt to spray in her face. Yea, her job definitely sucked.
This place lacked… everything. Everything a young mixed girl from Florida needs; the beach, a mall, other people of color. There may have been two others, but they may as well have been white too. So many nights she came home from school, to an empty house and cried, all night, until the sweet release of dreams came to her aid. She can still remember the first day of school, she had had locker issues and no one would help her. She carried all of her books with her for three days, only to find her locker vandalized. Nigger it said. The janitor erased it with some liquid soap, and went on about his day. No one cared; the principal hadn’t even bothered to apologize. Her dad never found out. He was white and everyone treated him fine, what did he care?
But since then there were no other incidents. Everyone just ignored her, and treated her like she wasn’t there. Teachers would teach her, but if she had a question they were no where to be found. So she struggled through her classes, through her life and through her job, waiting for the summer to come, so that she could go home.
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