It hasn't been edited or anything so it's probably really bad...
“I heard this school is supposed to have the best soccer team in the city,” My father said awkwardly, “You like soccer, right Alice?”
“No,” I mumbled. I had been living with my father for three years now and he knew absolutely nothing about me. I was nine when my parents were divorced. I was never close to my father so, naturally, I lived with my mom. Four years later my mother killed herself. No suicide note, no warnings, no goodbyes. I was angry at first. Betrayed that she would leave me by myself. She was the string holding me to the ground, the very air I breathed. She was my world, and without her I was nothing. I moved in with my father immediately after her death. When I got there, I was stone: Broken inside but cold on the surface. Still, time moved on, and I had no choice but to move with it.
My father was quiet. I think my mother’s death affected him more than he let on. He never really seemed to heal from that wound, sitting still as time lagged on. That is, until he met Julie, a beautiful blonde with lip injections. He followed her to Los Angeles, California where they got married. She was nice enough, I suppose. She didn’t really pay much attention to me, but I didn’t care. I had to give her some credit though, because after she married him, he began trying to be the father he never was.
“There it is,” he said as we drove by a dreadfully cheery looking building with a big sign saying, “Welcome to Sunshine High School.”
“Oh,” was all I could say. Who, in their right mind, would paint a school canary yellow? “It looks…great.” I lied.
“I think it’s charming!” He said happily.
I closed my eyes and sank deeper into my seat. This is going to be fun, I thought.
My room was in the attic. It was small and there were cobwebs in every corner. There was one big window where I could look out and see a big, fat tree blocking my view. I liked it though. It was enclosed, away from the rest of the house: My own little space. I began unpacking. After an hour, I could barely keep my eyes open, so I got out my toiletries bag, went to the bathroom, and began my routine. I forgot to bring toothpaste so I was stuck with rubbing bubblegum flavored goo on my teeth, thanks to my dad. The hot water of the shower was soothing, washing away the tension of the day. Two minutes in, the water became unbearably cold. I jumped out and toweled myself quickly. After getting dressed, I bounded downstairs,
“Dad?” I called.
“What is it, Alice?” A woman’s voice answered. I followed the voice and found Julie and my dad sitting, drinking margaritas on the porch.
“The hot water somehow got turned off,” I questioned him.
“Oh, right…” My dad started, “You’re going to have to take shorter showers here. Sorry” With that, Julie brought his face to hers and they began a full on make-out session.
“Get a room,” I grumbled as I trudged back up the stairs. I went back to the bathroom and wiped the steam off the mirror. I stared at my utterly plain reflection. Pale skin, light brown hair, and brown eyes. Typical. My angular features and full lips did nothing to help my crooked nose. I left the bathroom before I started to cry.
“I heard this school is supposed to have the best soccer team in the city,” My father said awkwardly, “You like soccer, right Alice?”
“No,” I mumbled. I had been living with my father for three years now and he knew absolutely nothing about me. I was nine when my parents were divorced. I was never close to my father so, naturally, I lived with my mom. Four years later my mother killed herself. No suicide note, no warnings, no goodbyes. I was angry at first. Betrayed that she would leave me by myself. She was the string holding me to the ground, the very air I breathed. She was my world, and without her I was nothing. I moved in with my father immediately after her death. When I got there, I was stone: Broken inside but cold on the surface. Still, time moved on, and I had no choice but to move with it.
My father was quiet. I think my mother’s death affected him more than he let on. He never really seemed to heal from that wound, sitting still as time lagged on. That is, until he met Julie, a beautiful blonde with lip injections. He followed her to Los Angeles, California where they got married. She was nice enough, I suppose. She didn’t really pay much attention to me, but I didn’t care. I had to give her some credit though, because after she married him, he began trying to be the father he never was.
“There it is,” he said as we drove by a dreadfully cheery looking building with a big sign saying, “Welcome to Sunshine High School.”
“Oh,” was all I could say. Who, in their right mind, would paint a school canary yellow? “It looks…great.” I lied.
“I think it’s charming!” He said happily.
I closed my eyes and sank deeper into my seat. This is going to be fun, I thought.
My room was in the attic. It was small and there were cobwebs in every corner. There was one big window where I could look out and see a big, fat tree blocking my view. I liked it though. It was enclosed, away from the rest of the house: My own little space. I began unpacking. After an hour, I could barely keep my eyes open, so I got out my toiletries bag, went to the bathroom, and began my routine. I forgot to bring toothpaste so I was stuck with rubbing bubblegum flavored goo on my teeth, thanks to my dad. The hot water of the shower was soothing, washing away the tension of the day. Two minutes in, the water became unbearably cold. I jumped out and toweled myself quickly. After getting dressed, I bounded downstairs,
“Dad?” I called.
“What is it, Alice?” A woman’s voice answered. I followed the voice and found Julie and my dad sitting, drinking margaritas on the porch.
“The hot water somehow got turned off,” I questioned him.
“Oh, right…” My dad started, “You’re going to have to take shorter showers here. Sorry” With that, Julie brought his face to hers and they began a full on make-out session.
“Get a room,” I grumbled as I trudged back up the stairs. I went back to the bathroom and wiped the steam off the mirror. I stared at my utterly plain reflection. Pale skin, light brown hair, and brown eyes. Typical. My angular features and full lips did nothing to help my crooked nose. I left the bathroom before I started to cry.