Chapter 1:

“Nicole, you don’t understand the pressure I’ve been under. Ever since your father died, I’ve been alone.” She stops talking when she can’t any more. The booze has begun to take over her brain. A zombie I have to take care of who can eat me at any moment. Under all the pressure, how does she think I’m handling my dad’s death? The kid isn’t supposed to take care of the adult, right? That’s what I’ve learned from every book title I see about parenting. I now begin to realize that there are no parenting books for kids, so I must be right. Her words are rattling in my head like chains, and I keep on repeating the word “alone” in my head.
She’s drunk, she doesn't know what she’s saying. She knows that she’s not alone. She knows I’m the reason she’s not alone. She appreciates me. Thinking about all of the reasons I need to help her to her bed only leads me to drawing up abstract art work, from what seems like a mad man’s in my head for all the reasons I shouldn't. This is my life. Debating myself is a big part of it, and I am the one who can say I’m alone. I deserve to cry and have a shoulder to lean on. Being the kid is a pretty good gig, as long as you have that shoulder to lean on, which kind of sucks for me.
After I debate it in my head, I decide to be the adult and help my mom to bed. She has the matted hair that she has every time the zombie takes over. Her clothes aren’t on right because I see the tag peeking out by her neck. I pick up the big garbage can from the bathroom that’s just down the hall, and set it right by her king sized bed. That empty space in bed is just one more thing reminding us every day that Dad is gone. Emptiness is pretty much all I feel anymore. It’s my fault because I shut people out, but I don’t know how to talk about it without crying.
“Alone. Alone. Alone.” I keep on repeating these words in my head, because it is the only word I understand anymore.
“Why do you keep saying that? Is it becau… because of me?” I didn’t realize I was saying it aloud. My mom’s voice lulls together because she’s half asleep. Lost in limbo, not knowing awake from sleep.
“No Mom. I’m just a little tired right now. Sorry.” I say, starting to reach the limbo stage myself.
“It's okaaay. Just go to bed.” She’s almost passed limbo. It will only be a few moments before she succumbs to the dark. Ironically, the dark is the only place I don't feel alone. I get to live in my lit up, fantasy world in my head for seven hours. My only hope is that I don’t have a lot of homework on my first day of school tomorrow. Fantasy is my reality, at least the reality I had with my dad.

***

I wake up to my alarm ringing on my phone. I sigh out of billions of feelings burning like wild fire inside me. It was just a simple sigh that means a lot more to me, because if I don’t sigh, the only thing left for me to do is cry. My phone reads 7:19, which means I’ve been laying here for almost twenty minutes. Time flies when I’m lost in my thoughts. Reluctantly, I stand up and begin to get ready for school. I pick out an outfit that I wore just about every day last year, for good reason. Last year it was just my dad’s ratty, old, yet comfy Minnesota State University sweatshirt. Now it’s a treasure I wear to help remember him.
It’s 7:48 and it takes me ten minutes to get to school, if I don’t speed. I jump in my navy blue Toyota van and speed to school. With the packed parking lot it takes me extra time, so it’s 7:57 by the time I get into school. 7:59, and I’m sitting in history. I’m seated in the back right of the classroom, right by the door, kleenexes, and pencil sharpener. This is going to be a great and noisy year. Sitting by three guys doesn't help the noise factor either. I don’t really have friends anymore, but people still talk to me. They know my dad died, but they are afraid to hurt my feelings. They leave me alone for the most part, which I’m pretty relieved about.
“Class, welcome to U.S. government. Today we will be talking about all of the standards we have to go over throughout the year. Since most of you are seventeen, and can drive, I expect that if you need help in my class, you come in early to figure it out.” Mrs. Spencer drags on for the whole hour about what we need to learn while I think about how I’m going to get through today. The bell screams us to leave, so like cattle we wander together to our next class.   
As I’m walking into geometry, someone taps me on my shoulder. I turn around and no one is there, until I look to my other side where Aiden, a tall brunette in my grade, is grinning from ear to ear.
“Got you!” he says while what seems like dying of laughter.
“Yeah, you got me. Congratulations! You deserve a medal.” My sarcasm is quite sarcastic. I start to walk away, because I’m bored with the idea of him. 
“Hey, wait! Where are you going?” he yells.
“Um, to class, like we are supposed to.” I keep walking.
“Haha, oh yeah, right.” he says as he runs to catch up. “What class are you going to?”
“Geometry.” I say in a voice that’s so monotone that I think I’m a robot for a second.
“Really? Me too!” he say with so much hope. It’s kind of sad that I’m being so judgemental, like saying no to a puppy at a pound, and turning down his hopes. I need to stop
being so judgy and give people a chance. Pull yourself together Nicole! Human interaction is good.
“Cool.” I say with a half grin-smile. He smiles back as an excited puppy would, and we walk into class. After what seems like five hundred hours later the school day ends. I go to my locker, pick up my hippie styled backpack, and begin to walk to my car. Walking is a good time to clear my head, and be free from the world, and get lost in my fantasy. It begins to sprinkle when I get outside. The light drops seem to be kissing my face, and this is my fantasy. Me walking in the rain.

Chapter 2:
After I get home, I check on my mom. Her car was in the driveway, so she should be here. There were a few times, since my dad died, where she was not present in our empty house. She’s in her bed sleeping, with her pale face fading, and regaining the vibrant beauty of her cheeks. I love my mom, but sometimes she makes me feel alone when she’s here.
While walking to my room, I trip over the sad excuse of an old teddy bear that looks as ancient as it smells. Being half asleep and walking isn’t the best idea. I think of where it came from, and I decide my mom dragged it up to cry on, because that was my dad’s old bear. I pick up the bear, and hit it a few times to get the dust off. That is another bad idea that happens when walking and sleeping. The dust is a massive dust storm that is ravaging my eyes and nose. I cough while rubbing my eyes, and almost trip again. After the storm died down I picked up the bear and bring it to the kitchen.
As I’m squinting at  the tag for instructions on how to wash it, I realize that this bear is as older than me. I believe that the only way to wash it is by hand. This is my homework for the day. Preserve my father’s old bear, that’s older that me, through a sense of just needing to do it, for no reason. Putting the bear in the sink, I submerge the entirety of the prehistoric bear. The plume of dust disperses into the sink, and makes it as unseeable as the bottom of the Mariana Trench. I empty the sink and fill it with Caribbean water that you can see the bottom of. There are only a few patches of substances that are almost unknown to man. Not knowing what the heck these things are makes it all the more nasty to deal with.
Scrubbing at each patch of who knows what is a very difficult task. All of the nastiness is gone except for one, and it won’t come out. I scrub and scrub and scrub. My hands are turning red, and pruning. With all I have in me I scrub this old bear for no reason. I start to release the tears I’ve been holding in all day, while scrubbing this bear that I never cared about until now. My mom walks into to kitchen.
“Nicole, what are you doing?” she says in a trembling voice. I can’t really understand her over my tears and sobs. She grabs my hand and sees how crimson they are. She takes the bear out of my grasp and puts her soft hand on my face. She pulls me in like a mother would and holds me. She holds me like a mother bear protecting her cub from the world. I let her embrace protect me while my tears fall onto her shirt. While she holds me and protects me, she is my mother, and for once I’m not alone.

***

My mom brings me to bed for once, and I fall asleep so fast I must’ve been almost asleep before I touched my bed. When I wake up from my dreamless sleep, it is almost time to get up. I check my phone and my mom had called me. While calling her number, I try to think what she wants. She picks up and says, “Hey honey, school is delayed for half an hour.”
“Why?” I respond, not knowing why they would delay the second day of school.
“Um, something to do with an unknown person in the school I think.” She says this in a wary tone, like a person in questioning for a crime, being unsure of herself.
“Okay, well I’m going to keep sleeping then.” I say almost as unsure of myself as her.
“I can wake you up at 7:30, if that’s enough time.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks Mom.”
“No problem sweetie. I love you!” She says in a voice so chipper that I forget who I’m talking to for a second.
“Love you too mom.” We hang up the phones and I fall asleep yet again.
It has only been half an hour, but it was a beautiful thirty minutes! Sleep in general is beautiful, even though most people look ugly while doing it. My mom is standing next to my bed tapping my arm saying, “It’s 7:32, get up Nikki.” Nikki is what I’m called when mom is to lazy to say Nicole, or by a few kids in my grade for the same reason. I like “Nikki,” but it’s just not me. It’s like calling chicken alfredo, alfredo. It’s disappointing when there’s no chicken on chicken alfredo.
I get ready for more misery called school. My mom drives me in because my car is almost out of gas. When we get to school I say, “Thanks for the ride mom. I don’t know if I would’ve made it in the van.”
“No problem! Have a good day. I love you.” She is still chipper.
“I love you too Mom.” I say it, because I mean it. I missed my mom, and I think I got her back. While walking into the school, I hear the little rumors lingering in the air. They are all whispering and keeping their heads down, trying to be silent, yet adding tides to the raging sea of whispers. It’s about the “unknown person” who was in the school. I pay little mind to it, and keep my head above the sea. That’s easy to do until there is an announcement over the old intercom.
  “All students and teachers please report to the auditorium.” It’s the principal. This can’t be good. All of the classes flowing like salmon trying to go upstream. Hectic ia good word to use too. What mattered now is what the hell was going on. All of the kids take a seat in front of  The principal walked out with an “unknown man.” She had her wrist in one hand and a button attached to a chord in the other. The man was smiling the way I did when I was little, when Dad got me a new toy. Principal Jackmond was crying with no sound and this is when people started to freak out.
“Don’t anyone move. You're locked in anyways. I’ve got an unpleasant surprise for you all if one of you disrespects me, or tries to leave my friendly company.” He chuckles a deep chuckle that only a madman can. He pulled his buttoned up shirt apart and showed a contraption that was taped to a belt-like cloth. It took me a second, but I realized it was a bomb. It looked packed up and big enough to decimate the whole school. People everywhere started to gasp. I could hear hearts thudding. My head is throbbing so much that it seems like it would explode at any second, a lot like the bomb.
“I don’t need all of you, only fifteen. Fun fact, that’s the number of years I’ve been lied to by this school.” I want to scream at him. Hating him with all I have in me is the only way I don’t make that scream with all of my pent up emotions escaping like a demolished dam.
“You, you, you, umm… you, and you, you.” He starts to point to people he will keep. He moves closer, and closer, and closer, until he points to me. My heart collapses and I feel as if fainting is a strong reality right now. Me. Out of everyone, why me? I’ve had my crap thrown at me already. Throbbing, pulsing veins putting pressure in every possible place of pain. Why not more pain? He points to Aiden. Why the hell not, because it’s not like he is the only person who has really tried to talk to me this year. I can’t take the throbbing anymore.
“Everyone who I didn’t point to, you can leave. If you are one of the lucky ones who gets to stay with me, don’t even think about leaving. This toy might just have to be tested out.” He is the definition of crazy, he’s more. He’s a lunatic, a maniac, the thing of nightmares; a monster. I’m going to die. I’m going to be like my dad soon.

End of Chapter 2