Skies Do Fall

A night. I had one night of freedom left. One night until I returned to the place I hated almost as much as that cheap, scumbag motel down the street for reasons I'm sure your logic could identify. One night until I returned to that wretched public school.

Just to tamper with my downtrodden emotions, karma brought another gift at my feet. My father was out late again the night before school started. Another "business" gathering, he had declared before he hurriedly jogged to his car and sped off in the other direction. Like I believed a word from his mouth anyways.

I stayed up all night long, not a speck of slumber threatening weight against my eyelids. I tried to drown out the sounds of my dad's car pulling back up at 4 A.M with my C.D player’s earphones, but it was no use. I could still faintly make out the creaking of his poorly covered footsteps, even with Rivers Cuomo's soothing voice desperately trying to lull me into a state of unconsciousness.

My heart felt as though a vicious snake had bitten right into the core of the organ. As though it's venom had numbed it into nothing more than a sleek, inoperative blob lying useless in the center of my chest. Nothing could shatter it because it was already a deceased muscle with absolutely no purpose at all.

I didn't even bother to set my alarm clock, for that was a lost cause as well. By the time the sun had began to peek up at the horizon, I couldn't have been more awake.

I slid out from my snug mass of feathered pillows and covers when my clock read 6:45 and I could no longer procrastinate getting ready. Avoiding my dare-devil side to risk a peek at the mirror, I ignored examining my appearance and got straight into my shower's sanctuary.

It didn't take me long to get ready seeing as I had different priorities since I had learned of my dad's sins and Sid's leaving me. I didn't straighten my hair like I normally would have, but bundled up the wild waves into a plain bun. I no longer wore makeup, but instead let my natural facial features remain completely untouched besides the moist chapstick that kept my lips from burning to flames. My outfit was anything short of its normality: A Green Day band-tee and a pair of blue jeans.

After I had taken care of all the preparations, I was ready for the unavoidable school day. I slumped my over-stuffed North-Face messenger bag that was stocked with packages of needed school supplies and left my unkept room toward the scent of frying eggs and sweet, savory pancake maple syrup.

“Morning, Robby!” my mother’s tender voice soothingly greeted me as soon as I pulled out one of the burnished, tawny dining chairs.

I beamed lovingly at my mother, my sour mood momentarily abandoned. “Morning, mom. Smells like Food Network in this kitchen and I gotta say, it's driving my stomach insane.”

My mom grinned modestly. “I just wanted to make sure my two kiddoes got a good meal before their big day.”

I shook my head but still held a humble smile. “Mom, its high school; not Pre-K. Big days go extinct after the 8th grade.”

Before my mom could respond, there was a deep grumble of footsteps bounding from behind me and the series of booms were shortly followed by a voice that sent my temper flying into heights that even NASA couldn’t measure…

“Morning, my two favorite ladies!”

I was holding down all the exerting shockwaves of rage scorching against the tender skin of my throat in order to not burst out in fury as my father said these words.

So now we were his favorite ladies? It was only true when it was convenient for him to say so. And I wasn’t going to teeter on the believing side for another second.

Before my wrath could get the best of me, I suddenly plunged up from my seat, snatched up my bag, and began to stalk towards the front door at the end of the hallway. I could feel two perplexed gazes fixed on my back as I gradually began to stride towards the door.

“Robin!” my mother called. “Aren’t you going to eat something? Aren't you hungry?”

“I lost my appetite,” I muttered as I lunged open the door.

My dad’s voice came next:

“Okay well have a good day, swee-“

I slammed the door before he could even manage to spit out that term of endearment.

The walk to the bus stop at the end of the street was serene and quiet, just the way I wished it to be. This calm time allowed my furious hysteria to reduce to a mild throbbing draped over my throat where the harsh words left scorch marks.

Once the short walk came to a close and it was time to wait, I sighed and sunk to the ground, sitting on the edge of the curb. Happily, I set my extensively hefty messenger bag aside and leaned back, allowing the rare Vegas wind to cool down the remaining beads of sweat my brief rage had caused.

After two minutes of silent waiting, I decided to listen to some tunes until the school bus came. I tugged out my trusty C.D player and placed the headphones over my ears before pressing play.

I turned the Weezer song on full-blast. I then closed my eyes in contentment when only the rock band's instrument's blares could be heard, blocking out anything and everything else.

I had been so wrapped up in my own invincible shield of music that when there was a delicate tap on my shoulder, I freaked out.

First, I screamed. Then, I opened my eyes wide with bloody murder written in my pupils. Next, I slapped and kicked and defended myself for dear life. Lastly, I actually focused my eyes and saw clearly who I was hitting.

But that just made me want to scream even more.