Dare to Dream

I sat in my room, for once, not feeling the urge to smoke. I brought my hand up to my mouth and chewed the skin hanging from the edge of my thumb, my bad habit. Maybe I had pushed it too far with Marianne, I was starting to feel a little guilty at spooking her like that, but she was too much of a creeper to feel entirely guilty.

Maybe I should give her a second chance?

I mulled the though over in my mind, I huffed when I came up with nothing, no little voice telling what decision to make, nothing; it was up to me.

I somehow found myself at her door, lifting my hand a couple of times in an attempt to trick myself that I actually might knock. I huffed and turned to leave when the door flew open behind, causing a breeze that picked up tendrils of my hair and wafted them back in my face.

“Bless you” a voice said quietly, I growled deeply as Tyler’s voice filled my ears. I turned and glared at the smirking boy, “What. Do. You. Want!” I hissed through the cloud of anger, “and what were you doing in her room?!” I said; leaning close down so I was at Tyler’s puny level.

“Just looking” he shrugged before turning his attention to the low cut top I was wearing, my hand twitched at the thought of wringing his scrawny little neck, watching the life slowly drain from his eyes as “amber!?” a shrill voice pierced my thoughts and I gripped the bridge of my nose and wedged my eyes shut tight at Sam’s annoying voice permeated every peaceful corridor of thought in my mind.

“What!?” I snapped through clenched teeth, Sam haughtily crossed her arms over her voluminous chest, a nice way of saying fat, because that’s what she is. I prepared for a lecture on my attitude and leaned against the wall to watch the circus of jiggling chins. After about three minutes of nonstop ranting I felt like I was going to dry heave, the world was spinning as I walked away from the noise and upstairs; back to my room.

I slammed the door behind me and dance across the floorboards, landing on the spring bed with a protesting squeak. I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it, I didn’t give a toss what Sam said about the smell as I lent up and purposefully blew my smoke into the primitively small air vents in the wall. I really should have wacked her one for the talk she just gave me, it’s not like she’s my mum and if I did maybe I’d be out of this shithole for good. Maybe that was the answer, get kicked out.

I wasn’t going to get adopted as there isn’t a huge demand in gangly, intimidating sixteen year olds, believe me, I know. My mind began to formulate a plan as the new idea took place in my mind, but I couldn’t do it alone, that’d be boring and if I decided I wanted to stay I needed someone to blame.

Marianne popped into my head, maybe I could give her another chance, and hell if I was being honest I didn’t need help; they wouldn’t chuck me out here, I really needed an excuse to make a friend.

I knew Marianne wasn’t in but I was still bored out my mind and I’d be dead before going back downstairs in a hurry, I stubbed my cigarette out on the window sill; creating another black dot along with many other thousands, I wondered exactly how many cigarette’s I had smoked?

I pushed the questions and thoughts to the back of my head; I was not in the mood for speculation. I stumbled off the bed, tripping on my duvet somehow before ending up at the chest of draws at the other end of the room. I sighed as I searched through my vogue magazine collection, ranging from glossy and fresh to tatty and dog-eared from use. I leafed though the pile until I came to my favourite edition, I pulled it out from beneath the other magazines; careful not to spill any of the well stacked pile onto the floor.

I flipped to the article on contemporary art, the pictures of examples and thoughts of the journalist portrayed the order gone into the making of the magazine, and the thought calmed me as I read through the page. I knew nearly every word by heart, if I closed my eye’s I’d probably be able to pull it up from memory and recite it.

I woke on the cold floor, one magazine splayed on its back in front of me and the drawer hanging open, I frowned at the mess before putting the magazine in its place at the bottom of the pile and shutting the drawer tight.

I could hear morning routine’s and soft jazz playing downstairs, I stretched my arms and smirked in satisfaction as the joints popped, relieving the stiffness in my back. I would have gone down to the kitchen to eat something resembling the concept of breakfast but something told me to avoid the kitchen, I trusted my instincts so now I would go out of my way to avoid the kitchen or anywhere but my room and toilet like the plague. I wasn’t hungry anyway and grabbed for the packet of cigarette’s and rolled away from my drawers at the same time, heading for the window.

It creaked as I opened it, sealed with last night’s frost. I watched the invisible motion of the air escaping through the window, taking with the smell of stale cigarettes and old paper.