Never let the music stop

I don't exactly know what to write. i just sort of saw this pen that's shiny and black, and there was this blank page in front of me. i just wanted to write something.
Okay, that's total bull crap. i was forced to sit here and write something. i was put in this "therapy" thing by my school counselor. I've been getting in trouble lately; talking back, getting in fights, skipping class, smoking on school property, minor stuff like that. The teachers and faculty had gotten together (without my consultation, i might add) and decided that an anger management class would be best for me. Morons. the only reason i had agreed was because if i refused, they would call my mother, and if she were to know about me getting in trouble...
Anyways. So the people at this therapy place believe that writing about stuff will "release your inner anger". What crap! And all this psychobabble is driving me insane! I've only been coming here for two days and i never want to come back! All the other kids have been here a month, three months, a year, and they all seem pretty angry to me. Doesn't that say something? Like, maybe, they're doing a pretty terrible job and trying to help us?
Well, right now im supposed to be writing about my family. where do i begin? okay, so there's no dad, just a screwed up alcoholic mother and a little seven year-old brother named Toby. if it weren't for him i would have been gone a long time ago. thats another reason why hate this arrangement: i can't get home until six to take care of Toby. who knows what could happen? my mother might leave to go get drunk at our local bar. i don't even want to think about it. im just going to be a good girl and get out of here as soon as possible. why do i even have to write this stuff if i live it every freaking day? Whatever.
My time is up here.

(Authors note*this part i am going to expand with what she does on her way home*)

I didn't want to go home, but Toby was waiting for me. A few trailers away from mine, i stopped to grab a quick smoke. the air was chilly, but these sure warmed me up! After a few drags, i dropped the butt of the cigarette and turned my foot over it. then i reluctantly headed to a place called "home".
i hesitantly turned the knob of the front door. we lived in a trailer park. Ghetto, right? yeah, well, we probably could afford a small nice house if mom didn't waste all of her money she earns by dancing at poles in a g-string on booze. Anyways, the screen door has holes in it with mildew growing in the cracks, and our carpet is some seventies green mixture with different coloured dots in it. our couch is broken down and and ugly brownish colour, then our walls are just chipped white. Yeah, i don't invite people over much.
i closed the door lightly behind me and tiptoed down the hall. it was only a little after seven o'clock, but i figured my mother was passed out somewhere.
"Where have you been, Hayden?" my mom's sluggish voice came from the kitchen. Looks like she's still awake! Joy! As i turned around to go into the kitchen, the strong stench of alcohol burned my nostrils. i may smoke, but i've sworn to myself that i will never drink.
Seen too many side affects, i guess.
I came into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway. mom looked like she always does after school: hair in every direction, eyes blood shot, makeup smeared, and a pink fuzzy robe.
"Just out," i sad with a shrug.
"Just out, huh?" She looked me up and down and smirked. i hate it when she does that. It makes me fidget. "You smell like pot."
"Um, have you seen where we live, mom? Everyone in this trailer park smells like pot."
"You better watch your tone, young lady. I am in no mood for it."
"What?" i said, uncrossing my arms. "Hangovers no much fun today?" It was my turn to smirk and i enjoyed it.
She laughed a little, then threw her head back and laughed hysterically.
"You think you're so funny, don't you?" mom shook her finger at me. then she got up and moved toward me. When her face was just inches away from mine, she sneered and whispered, " That'll get you hurt out there, sweetheart."
"Get away from me," i growled and pushed her back to head down the hall. Toby didn't need to hear this.
"Run away from a fight, Hayden!" she yelled after me. "That'll get you real far!"