September 3rd
My grandfather used to tell me that everyone had a story. Whether it was of a budding romance or the horrific tale of being in labor, everyone had one. I know I’m not the budding romance type and well, being pregnant at fourteen isn’t really my style, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Of course, he said all that before he died two years ago when my mom wouldn’t pay the hospital bills anymore. It happened the same way as when my pet guinea pig died, I came home from school and he was slumped on the couch, mouth open, eyes closed.
I guess I just want to escape reality for a second. Life in my house is anything but paradise and right now I’m feeling like a guinea pig, locked in a world with caged doors all around me.
September 7th
Ms. Smith next door bought me all my school supplies with the credit card. Sydney gave it to her before going to Peru with my dad last week for a three week cruise. Sydney’s my mom; my dad’s name is Bill. I guess it’s kind of weird that I don’t call them Mom and Dad, but when I was really little it was all nanny and none of them.
I don’t really mind, if they had been around to parent me I might be drunk, stupid, and bitchy, like them. I think I’m better off without them, not to sound like a brat or anything. Actually, I don’t really care if I sound like a brat or not, not when it comes to talking about Sydney and Bill. I’m just not going to get into that right now though; I don’t need that sort of stress.
I really needed some new clothes for this year, but there’s only one three hundred dollars left on the card for me to live with for two weeks and food in Westchester isn’t cheap.
Whatever, I’m going to go make sure that all of my books are in order for tomorrow, even though I’ve done so over four times today. I just want tomorrow to be a new year for me. This is a new chapter in the book that I call my life and I want it to have a successful beginning.
Yours until the Sun Stops Shining,
Kayla L. Jones
September 8th
I’m never going back. I know that I sound immature and stupid, but I don’t care. I don’t care one filthy, stinking bit. Now I must really sound immature and stupid, but after what I’ve been through today, I have just about had it with the whole rotten, fucked up world.
My morning started off normal. I woke up and got ready for school, throwing on the one new shirt that I bought a month ago with my lawn-mowing money. It’s probably because I’m the only girl in Westchester who would mow a lawn for twenty bucks. Actually, I don’t think that anyone here would do it for any amount of money, but that’s beside the point. It’s a sparkly black one with spaghetti straps that I bought at Westchester Mall.
I paired it with old jeans that I got when Sydney grew out of them, or rather lost twenty pounds on Jenny Craig in one week. The next time I want to be anorexic I’ll try it. So anyway, I made it to the bus stop before things started getting ugly. I’m talking hairy **** with a mole ugly.
I got on the bus and made the huge mistake of sitting in the back, where I was pretty sure I would go unnoticed. I might as well have put a sign saying “Seniors Kick Here” on my ****. Once they figured out I was a freshman, which they said was easy because of my too heavy make-up and chicken legs, I was toast. They made fun of me the whole way, even after I moved up front.
Then, when I finally made it to my first class, I found that every one of the popular kids from last year were in it, with some new ones that I could tell are going to get close with the old ones very soon.
In Art History we were shown all the work that her summer camp students had painted. Then she brought out one that she hadn’t finished. The paint was still wet so she warned us all to be careful not to bump into it when we left. Well guess who Natalie Shawnston just accidentally pushed into it? The teacher made me stay for three minutes and gave me a lecture on not being clumsy in the Art room. That and my new shirt was really badly stained with paint.
I was late to my next class because of staying late for Art and told not to make it a habit. Need I plead that several others walked in well through third, laughing and practically bouncing off the walls? They were just told to take their seats. Tell me where this was all written in the Constitution, where our rights as unlucky, disliked, loser kids were put. Tell me that and maybe I’ll get back to you.
Yours until the Sun Stops Shining,
Kayla L. Jones
September 21st
Sydney came home today without Bill. Turns out he had some urgent business trip to take care of, so he sent her back with her luggage and took the next plane to Cuba. Whatever his “business” is, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have to do with the office, unless you count hooking up with one of his employees under his desk as “urgent business”.
Yeah, three summers ago there was no one to watch me and I was sick enough that my
i just realized that the whole story didn’t get pasted onto here… if u are interested in reading the rest, then i know it’s good! lol