What We Used To Know

Finally, I made it inside after fidgeting with the lock on the door. It was toasty inside, and I peeled off my jacket, taking a look at myself in the mirror by the coat hook. My cheeks were tinged pink from the cold, and my hair was in a bit of a mess, as it always was. It was more than easy for me not to care about what I looked like. After all, I was going to school to learn, not to be seen.

I slipped my shoes off as well, placing them inside the closet with the various other pairs that belonged to the other members of my family. Everyday after school, I took advantage of being all alone. My parents wouldn’t be home till at least seven, and my brother wasn’t likely to return until eleven. His school got out just minutes after mine, but it was a mystery to us all where he went after school, and what he did until he got home. Of course, I wasn’t so sure any of us wanted to actually know. Jordan was probably into drugs, again (although I doubted he ever stopped). So it was plausible that he was out with some friends who were just like him; getting into trouble, just like him.

So, I took in the sights of the empty house, loving the sound of pure silence. It was nice to know that I’d have the house all to myself for the next few hours. If I was a few years older, and actually had friends, this would be a dream. An empty house with a lack of parents for a matter of hours. With the way things were going as of late, I would not be having a single soul in this house who wasn’t related to me though. Since I was left alone everyday, I’d taken to a ritual schedule right after I’d arrived home. First, I’d take off my jacket, look in the mirror, and remove my shoes. Then, I’d eat my snack, and watch a little television - not like there was anything good on though. After that, I’d contemplate whether I really felt like doing my homework or not. Somehow, I always decided to do it, because I knew I’d feel guilty about putting it off. Also, if I lagged too far behind on it, I risked being asked about it in class by the teacher. Teachers were another area of people I tried my best not to socialize with, because they tended to care (or at least pretend to).

In the line up of events for the night, I’d only completed the first few steps. Snack time! Of course, my parents hardly ever went to the store, because the only meal they really ever ate at home was dinner, and that was at best a rarity. Somehow they always managed to eat anywhere but home. That left me with almost no food to eat. Jordan was never home either, he always was off somewhere as well. Honestly, I was the only person in this house who acted… normal. And that was a scary thought, because I’m sure that compared to everyone else, I was not normal. Maybe the deficiency in normality around the house was what caused me to be this way. Guess I was just doomed from the start to be like… this.

I raided all of the cupboards, trying to find something that hadn’t already expired, and actually looked appetizing. Unfortunately, my search didn’t heed too many results, and I ended up settling with a banana that wasn’t badly bruised. So I pulled a cup from another cupboard, filling it with ice and water as I took the cup, and my banana over to the couch where I munched away, trying to find something enjoyable to watch. All the standard television crap was on. Your reality TV, the music videos, whatever. None of it ever really interested me. I was more of a film-fanatic than anything. Of course, my parents weren’t aware of this in the least, so we never had any DVDs or videos to watch.

The banana and glass of water were both consumed rather quickly, and as I got up to go toss the peel away, I noticed something outside through the window in the room. I was curious now, so I walked over, trying to discreetly peek out without being noticed by the outsiders. The curtains were pushed back, so I tried to hide behind them slightly, in order to remain somewhat hidden.

There was a boy outside in the street on a skateboard. He looked like Ten-Step, but from this distance, I was pretty sure it wasn’t him. This boy was smaller, and had a different haircut. He was pulling a few little tricks here and there, riding around with a smile on his face. Moments later, another boy on a skateboard appeared, riding at full speed towards this boy. I recognized the new person to be Ten-Step himself. This was the first time I’d seen him anywhere else than on the walk to school.

The two boys were joking around, I could tell by the look on their faces, and the way their chests heaved, that they were laughing. I had to admit, they both had skills. I didn’t know much about skateboarding, and I wouldn’t be caught dead even attempting to ride one, but they looked like they were pretty good. Of course, there wasn’t much for them to jump off of or grind on, besides the pavement and curbs. Boy will be boys though, and somehow they found a way to perform little tricks here and there, never losing the rhythm of the board.

I saw both of them slowing down, coming to a stop. The Ten-Step look-alike was pointing in my direction, saying something. I didn’t know if I wanted to be able to hear what he was saying, but soon enough decided I didn’t want to know, when they both started to walk a little closer to my house, trying to look inside. Rats, I think I’ve been spotted. So quickly, I ducked down. I could already feel my face heating up, and I sat beneath the window, not daring to move. All I could pray for was that they didn’t see me. Maybe something was just around my house, not technically in it.

I didn’t stand up, instead just scooted along the floor into the kitchen where I was sure they wouldn’t be able to see me. I finally stood up, looking at the clock. It was nearly five thirty. Astounded at where the time had gone, I hopped over to where my book bag was sitting, in the closet with the shoes.

Without disrupting any of the perfectly aligned shoes, I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I worked my way back to the kitchen. The bag thudded onto the table, as I pulled out a chair and sat down. I knew that I had a load of homework to get started on, yet the only thing I wanted to do right now was write. There was a good story floating around in my head, and I figured it was time to let it out.

That’s something I’d been working on, for a while now: writing. Something just convinced me at one point that I wanted to be an author. Ever since I was little I’d had great stories floating around in my head. It was only this year that I’d actually gotten the brilliant idea of actually letting them out onto paper. Of course, it was all sucky since I hadn’t the best training yet. But I knew that as I got older, it would all improve.

The various papers for maths and other classes lay sprawled out in front of me, itching to be completed. I didn’t bother with them though; instead I cast them aside, not paying any mind to them. Tonight, this story was all that mattered. And frankly, I didn’t care about my homework tonight. I’d just stay up a little later, and hopefully get it all done.

My hand began to cramp up as it flew across the lined paper, writing the words coming from my head. I looked down at all that I had written. It was a pretty fair amount, but not a lot. Only a page and a half had been filled up, just a start on the story.

Everything I wrote tended to be long, often having a few chapters to it. Although I hardly could say that the chapters ever ended up as anything. I always started stories, and came up with twists and turns to them, but I never cared enough to give them an official ending. Guess that’s what the imagination is for, yeah?

By the time I had finished a satisfactory amount on this one, I heard the front door opening. I glanced up at the clock, it was almost eight. I still hadn’t even began on my homework yet. Hopefully it wouldn’t be mum or dad coming home, because I knew they’d get on my case for not getting my work done. Anything that wasn’t school or work was frivolous to them, and was deemed inappropriate and “not worth your time.”

Unfortunately, I knew it was my father when I heard him clank through the hallway, slipping his shoes off and placing them with the rest of the shoes in the closet.

“Addie?” he called, his voice ringing throughout the house. Of course, he probably knew where I was. I was in the same spot every night. The kitchen was one of my favorite places, because the yellow walls just made me feel happy, and it was a good place for inspiration.

“In here, dad,” I called back lightly, sighing.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he said, walking over to me and kissing me on the top of my head. “Is that your homework you’re workin’ on?”

“Uh… I will be working on it in just a minute,” I said, grinning sheepishly.

“Ah, honey, you haven’t been wasting your time writing again, ‘ave you?” I could tell he was disappointed that I hadn’t busted my butt working day and night trying to get the best marks imaginable. I couldn’t help it. Me and Jordan were just so different from our parents. The things that mattered to us didn’t have a lick in common with the things my parents held precious.

“You better get on that work of yours. Don’t want your marks to go down the toilet, do we?”

“No, we wouldn’t want that.” He talked to me about my homework like it was some sort of project that he was supervising at work.

“Jordan home?” he asked, poking his head out from inside the fridge, where I could imagine he was looking for something to eat, as well. I was surprised he was still down here, actually. Usually by now, he’d said his few words to me, grabbed a drink and headed upstairs to his office.

I snorted a bit. “It’s not even ten yet. Doubt he’ll even be home before eleven thirty.”

“Right. That brother of yours never seems to turn in here before I’m even in bed. I thought moving here would be good for ‘im, give him a fresh start. But I guess four fresh starts aren’t gonna be enough.” He chuckled at how pathetic the entire situation sounded.

Of course four fresh starts weren’t going to be enough. Because every other time we moved turned out exactly the same. Jordan would get expelled, right about the same time my workhorse parents moved up a rank in their jobs. This meant that when they got the chance to relocate for work, they’d just get to uproot me and Jordan, taking us off somewhere new. And apparently, they hoped that each time we relocated, Jordan would learn that he should stop acting like such a… like how he always acted. Maybe if they moved him around enough, he’d clean up. Maybe they hoped he’d start acting like me, and just slowly fade away to the point where no one even noticed him. That wasn’t going to happen though, now was it?

The ticking clock suddenly caught my attention as Dad drifted out of the kitchen, some sort of alcoholic drink in hand. I wondered when mom would be home, but I doubted it would be before I got into bed. The order of what time the family members in my house arrived home was a little screwy. First, I got here. Then, after a few hours of sitting by myself, Dad would walk in, calling my name, wondering where I am. After finding me - and a drink - he’d head upstairs to his office, to do more work. That left me alone for another few hours. I’d try to finish up all my work, then head up to bed. Right as I turned off my light, I’d hear my mum stepping in. And somehow, by the time I woke up the next morning, Jordan was asleep in his room. I never really figured what time he came in exactly, because it seemed to change every night.

All of the papers in front of me that I had to finish stared me down, and I stared right back at them. Fully aware that doing this wasn’t going to make them suddenly appear finished, I begrudgingly grabbed my pencil, dragging it over to the papers. My name was hastily scrawled across all of them, in a print I could hardly read myself. Guess I put my teachers through a lot when they tried to grade my work.

It took almost an hour for me to finish all of my homework, and my eyelids were beginning to droop as I slid everything back into my folder. Working like this always tired me out. I should have learned forever ago that doing my homework last, after my leisure writing, was never a good outcome.

A small wave of shock spread through my body as I heard the front door click open when I was sitting at the table.

No one ever entered the house at this hour. The only person who I ever had confrontation with at night was my dad. So I was surprised when I heard heavy footsteps lumbering through the house, coming towards the kitchen. Of course, I knew instantly who it was, since my mother didn’t have footsteps like that. It was Jordan.

I wanted to clear from the kitchen and disappear upstairs, but I knew I’d have to face him either way in my attempt to escape.

Out of all people that I knew (or saw), Jordan was the one I hated most. He was the reason that we were always being uprooted and shipped around, well, mostly. I knew that my parents were also part of this problem, but Jordan was just helping to speed the processes up.

He sauntered into the kitchen, his hair rumpled up and his pants sagging. There was some sort of smell lingering about him, but I couldn’t place it. Even after all this time, I never really was able to differentiate the different smells that went along with all of the drugs he used. Although the reason I wasn’t able to tell which smells matched with what drugs was hopefully because I was never around him long. The only one I knew best, because it was always present, was the smell of marijuana.

Jordan was standing in front of the open fridge, having a stare down with its contents. I could tell from here that his eyes were the size of biscuits. He didn’t even have to turn his head for me to confirm that he was beyond gone. All of his actions were delayed, and as his hand reached out to grab for something in the fridge, it dropped suddenly. He just looked down at his hand, studying it.

“Damn,” he whispered. I had no idea what was going through his head right now, and I’m not so sure I wanted to know. The mind of a stoner was a scary place.

I slid out of my chair, grimacing when it scraped along the floor. This caused Jordan to look up sharply. His eyes were nothing but dark pits right now, and I just wanted to get out of the kitchen and into my freaking room. My eyes kept glued to the floor as I tried not to look at him, shuffling out of the room.

He couldn’t have made this easy though, and stopped me in my tracks.

“What, Addie?” Venom was leaking from his voice as he spoke. I couldn’t help but shudder at how much he intimidated me. Everything about him now made me hate him. Involuntarily, I launched into memories of when we were younger, when things were right.

“Jordan! Stop it!” I yelled at him, soaking wet as he turned the hose on me, again. I giggled, trying to run away from the stream of water, but was unsuccessful.

I yelped, getting sprayed with cold water again. The weather wasn’t even remotely warm out, but today we decided to have a water fight.

Jordan was hiding on the side of the house, waiting for me to make the right move in order for him to show himself, spraying me down. I’d try to dodge the flow of water every time, but he was too quick. The ice water found its way over, drenching me.

It was hard to fight back when I didn’t have a water supply of my own, but we were both having fun at how completely soaked I was getting. One of the neighbor boys of course wanted to join in, and Jordan tried to coax him over to his side. The boy refused though, offering to help me out. I didn’t say no, because we all knew that I’d have fun trying to get Jordan back.

From all the water everywhere, the grass was beginning to get muddy, and slippery. Jason, the neighbor kid who was on my team was sliding around as Jordan aimed at both of us. I moved out of the way just in time, but Jason wasn’t so lucky. Unfortunately for me, he tried to dive out of the way, his hand catching my arm on the way down, making me fall just as hard.

I shrieked as I cascaded into the mud, instantly surrounded in it.

“Hey!” Jordan yelled, running over to where Jason and I now laid sprawled on the ground. “You just pulled m’sister down! That’s not cool!”

Jason looked a little frightened by Jordan’s sudden out burst. “Sorry man, really. It was an accident.”

Jordan’s face was softening a bit from the way it had contorted just moments prior. “Don’t do it again. No one pulls my sister into the mud. Not cool. You okay Addie?”

I snapped my head in Jordan’s direction, cutting sharply out of the memory from just four summers ago. It was all before everything started happening with Jordan’s drugs and my parents' jobs.

“You know you’re not supposed to swear when you’re at home,” I told him, my eyes blank as I tried not to think about how much it hurt to know that he didn’t care. He just didn’t care. Not anymore, not like he used to. Everything he said just stung now.

“Yeah. And I’m not supposed to be ditching school or coming home later than ten, yet I’m doing both of them anyways.”

I was surprised at how clear his words were, despite the fact that he seemed so out of it.

“You’re home early tonight, though,” I said, trying to sound like my voice was capable of being louder than a whisper. “God Jordan, why do you have to be such a prick?”

His eyes snapped down, meeting mine. The normal blue that they usually were -used to be - was now just a pit of darkness. There was no life to them, like there used to be. His entire life seemed to turn upside down, and he was the start of it all.

“Where did you learn that word?” he inquired, a serious tone in his voice. He almost sounded like he was scolding me.

“What word?” I replied, faking to be oblivious.

“Prick.”

“From you!” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. Then they opened again, revealing his dilated pupils. The look on his face was slightly disgusted; a mix of silent rage and revulsion.

“Whatever. Don’t be saying things like that. Don’t use that word.” I was almost appalled at how he was suddenly trying to be a big brother; trying to “protect” me.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Jordan.”

“Oh yes I can,” he shot back. “I ‘ave the right to tell you what to do, since I’m older than you. I’m your big brother!”

My face twisted as he said the words “big brother.” Jordan was not my big brother anymore. He was just the thing I happened to be related to. He was the core reason that this household was falling apart.

“You can’t protect me, Jordan. You stopped protecting me the day you gave up on yourself. And you most certainly are not my big brother!”

I was fuming by the time I’d stalked out of the kitchen, trying to get away from him. It hurt too much to look at the face of someone who actually did care once.