The Day All The Statues Came To Life

My mother leaving us set several things into motion. First, it led my father to drinking, and the drinking led to him being unable to keep a job longer for a month. And then, it got to the point where the time spent “looking” for jobs became longer than the time he spent actually working. And because of this, we could no longer stay in our townhouse, so we moved to a condo, and then an apartment, and then a smaller apartment, then a smaller crappier apartment, then to just a shitty apartment, that we were no in, and were two months behind on rent.
Her leaving was harder on Bex, I think. In movies, and sometimes life, the older sister takes on the responsibility of the mother for the younger. When she left, I was 6 and a half, and Bex was 8. At that age, it’s a big difference, and in all honesty…Bex crumbled under pressure. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t take the responsibility. Most people when they meet us think I’m the older sister. I don’t blame her; I don’t resent having to do all the things I do. I mean, Dad always liked her a little more, always thought she was more special than me.
I think she is too, sometimes.

We have exactly half an hour until my father gets home, and Bex didn’t do the dishes, and she and Jake made a mess of the living room.
“What the fuck were you doing? Setting off atomic bombs?” I scream as I survey the damage.
“Calm down,” Bex says. “We have plenty of time.”
I put a fist to my forehead and think for a minute. “No,” I correct her. “You have plenty of time. I’m taking a shower and I’ve saved your ass so many times that you owe me for the rest of your life.”
I make my way to the bathroom, but Bex is charging behind me, “Wait! Tea! You got to help!”
I ignore her and slam the door to the bathroom in her face.

Still, feeling dirty and used, I stand in the hot shower, letting the steam fog up the whole small room. I think briefly of what would happen if I could drown myself in here, would James even care? Would dad? Would Bex?
I spend extra time trying to scrub the number written boldly across my arm. Bex already made some sort of comment on the way home. But it won’t budge. It won’t even fade slightly. Stupid Ryan. I wish I had told him that I couldn’t call, not now, probably not ever, because I was in way over my head with an asshole. I don’t even know why he would want me to call. I mean, our whole “bonding” experience was doing shots to mock the happy couple that was our siblings. He said he’d heard not so nice things about me, maybe he assumed I was a slut and would give out. Not for you darling, I thought bitterly, just for James. Every single fucking time.
I’m sure blacking out on his sofa, and then the whole lovely racing around his house like an idiot was very attractive. Once I’m out, I change into a long sleeve shirt to hide my arm and some shorts.
Bex has managed to clean up the living room, but she’s miserable when it comes to dishes.
“Go get cleaned up,” I say with a sigh, taking the rag out of her and resume scrubbing a pot. “I’ll finish.”
Bex gives me the evil eye and leaves. I don’t let it bother me, she is a bitch, and housework won’t hurt anyone, no matter what the research says.
I’m finishing up drying when my dad comes home. He’s got a 40 in a brown bag, and looks like he’s been through two already.
“Hi, Dad,” I say tentatively.
“Why aren’t those done already?” He snaps, nodding to the plates I’m drying.
“I made breakfast for Bex and me.” I lie quickly.
And casually he leans over and cuffs me hard on the back. It’s enough to make me lean over the counter and gasp in pain, but he doesn’t notice. He’s on his way to become one with the armchair. I quickly bat the tears of pain out of my eyes and get back to work.

I don’t go to school. I go to a factory. A factory that makes perfect little American Eagle Barbies and Kens. And every once in a while, the factory messes up, and instead of some social butterfly, you get…well, someone like me. And let me tell you, it scares the shit out of them. They can’t get you pegged. They can’t figure out why something malfunctioned. Even the kids that label themselves as “outcasts” don’t really like me. As much as they try and pretend to be misunderstood, and lonely, they have other people they can sit with and gripe about the world. The factory still helps produce little clones of them to help them get by.
The rumors and glares hit me the second I walk into my first period class. I get there early to try and avoid this, but as if they all got together last night, they are all already there. I walk in, taking in their presence, flip my damp hair over my shoulder sit down and take out the book I brought with me today for this occasion alone. As soon as they think I’m not paying attention (see how nice they are?), the whispers and giggles start. “No, I hear she came right up to as soon as she heard and seduced him!” “After she got him drunk, you mean.” “What?” “Uh! She had to get him drunk before he would actually sleep with him again! Duh!” “Whatever she’s a hoe.”
Typical.
But what crossed the line was this comment by Maddie Baker: “And then, on Saturday, she fucking called him and said she was coming over! Like she didn’t know Sarah was over and they were trying to work it out.”
That was like a stab to the heart, because that meant James told. He told someone that I was over. And he probably made up a whole bunch of shit that wasn’t true.
Without thinking, I got up and threw my book on the ground. The classroom instantly went quiet, but they didn’t look abashed at how upset I was. No, they looked pretty fucking proud of themselves actually. Proud that they had pushed me to this point, and even I could feel the anticipation from them. They wanted me to yell at them, they wanted me to deny it.
Fucking bitches.
Instead I turned on my heel and left, I almost ran into my teacher on my way out. “Teagan?” He called after me as I started running down the hall, but I ignored him. I ran to the bathroom down the hall, where a freshman girl was putting on makeup, but she took one look at my face and left.
I sat on the toilet and took deep breaths. This was ridiculous. I was so good at ignoring them! I had never been so bothered by it, and I mean all of it, in my life, not James cruelty, not the stupid bitches at school, not the giant bruise on my back from my dad yesterday, but right now, I felt like I was going to have a panic attack.
And that’s when I saw on the bathroom stall, written in black marker, “Teagan Marshall is a HOE”
‘No’. I thought furiously, taking my phone out of my pocket. ‘Fuck this.’ And without thinking, I looked at my arm and dialed.
“Hello?” He answered on the second ring.
“Remember me?” I asked, getting out a cigarette and cracking the bathroom window slightly.
I could practically hear his smile through the phone. “Of course. What’s up Teagan Marshall?”
I hesitated, taking a long drag. “What are you doing? Like, right now? Because I want to get the fuck out, and you should come with me.”