"Azaria! You're late...again!"
    I roll my eyes beneath my black covers and the warmth of my bed. Who cares how late I am? School is superfluous. And she cares even less about my education than I care about getting one. It's one of a few things we agree on.
    I hear my bedroom door creak open.
    "Azaria, didn't you hear your mother?"
    Make that we used to agree on the subject until her new beau came into the picture and tried to add some class to our lives.
But little did he know, the Jamesons don't do class.
    "I'm not going to say it again. It's time to get up," he threatens in a gravelly tone I've come to know too well.
    I scoff, "You just did."
    Before I know it, I'm hitting the floor and looking up at Brad. The way the dust fairies dance in the light that shines in through my window, I can't see his face; just a dark figure. How fitting.
    "What the heck, dude?"
    "Get ready for school. I'll talk to your principal about you being tardy."
    "Don't do me any favors, Prince Pugnacious."
    I get up and dust off nothing in particular causing the fairies to go crazy.
    What a prick. Here he comes to save the day. Random white guy swoops in and improves our lives. Sike! He's trying desperately to change her which is pretty much impossible and he's trying to play the daddy role for me which is next to impossible, literally.
    I don't know how they met and I don't really care. I just want him gone. I don't like the way he looks at me and I don't like how he just lets himself into my room without knocking. Who knows what I could be doing in here? And my room isn't the biggest so it's not like I'd be able to escape him.
    "Can you leave?" I sneer at him.
    "Hurry up."
    "Make me."
    When he reaches for me I manage to squeeze pass him and out the door.
    The bathroom is directly across from my room. Our house is where old shiny wood goes when it needs a new home. We have enough wood paneling to fuel fireplaces far into the future. We even have it in the bathroom where it's kind of warped from all the heat and moisture.
    I have a love/hate relationship with the shower. It feels so good but it wakes me up. After I'm clean, I throw on whatever's lying around my room: khakis, yellow tank top, my brother's Navy hoodie, beat up black Converse and then grab my empty backpack.
    The only thing I'm grateful for from that woman is my hair. I scrounge up money to keep up long, thick and healthy. It's black as coal, softer than silk and comes to the middle of my back. I where it up in a high pony tail because I like the gypsy look.
    He's sitting in his car outside already. I slide into the back seat.
    "What do you think you're doing?" he asks.
    I look at him sideways. "Going to school."
    "You can ride in the front."
    "I know."
    "Azaria--"
    "You're making me later."
    He exhales sharply, his wide chest expanding, then pulls away.
    We take the same route that I usually walk to get to Quest High School or as I like to call it: Havoc High. In ten minutes we're pulling up in front of the building. It's ordinary.
    It's a long reddish-brown rectangular box. There's a massive football/soccer/ lacrosse/whatever field behind it and a baseball field off to the left. The band room, my favorite room, is on the top floor and has a back staircase where all kinds of tomfoolery goes on. It also leads out to the street which makes for a quick get-a-way if a teacher or someone is coming.
    Brad turns to say something but my door's already open and I'm getting out.
    "Come here," I hear him say but I keep walking.
    I guess there is another upside to school. I get to escape him. 
    I walk into my first class, late, of course.
    "Do you have a pass," Mr. Gibson asks me.
    "Do I look like I have a pass?"
    I hear a few laughs and am tempted to say more but I shut my mouth. I don't mouth off to entertain others, only me.
    He goes over to his attendance book and marks something that doesn't bother me like it probably should.
    "Have a seat, Azaria."
    I make my way toward the class and when I turn back to him he's looking at me like Brad does when he thinks I'm not looking. I sigh and head down the first aisle. As I'm passing through, my ex, Terrence, or Terry as I called him, slaps me on the butt really hard. I gather myself then turn around and slap him in the face really hard.
    "Hey! Both of you--"
    "Consider us even...this time," I hiss.
    Terry smiles, not at all fazed by the red hand print on his left check. We were a very physical couple. That's one of the main reasons I broke up with him. There was no real balance to us. The violence turned us on but it wasn't healthy.
    When I get to my seat, class has returned to normal and I'm not listening.
    I just start to think about how all these guys, teachers included, saw me. Everyone knew my mom was a slut so I guess genealogically that meant I was too. I did have a lot of her looks but I also looked a lot like him.
    I have her awesome hair, body structure and lips. But I had his darker completion and dark brown eyes. I got some of both their height putting me at five foot six and a half.
    It's weird how I love him even though he isn't around. But my reasoning is that if he isn't around he can't hurt or disappoint me like she does.
    I don't have much to be grateful for or anyone to be grateful to for that matter. I simply live life and that's all there is to it.

    I've been told by countless adults, mostly in their twenties, that I have an old soul. It's mostly because I wear my pants a bit sagged and you can see the very tops of my undies. I wear my tank tops tight and a bit up so you can see my midriff. They say I have a '90s flavor about me.
    I did like debuting Aaliyah and TLC's style before they started dressing like women and stopped dressing like teenagers. 
    At lunch, I'm sitting with my head down having already devoured my food. The noise doesn't bother me. In my house you learn to sleep through anything.
    I feel a hand barely touching my stomach and I jump.
    "Hey, Zar," Terry whispers in my ear.
    I sit up and punch him in the chest. He traps my fist against his heart and pulls me in for a kiss.
    Kissing him was one of my favorite things to do. We used to spend a lot of time in the back stairwell.
    I pull out of the kiss. "What the frak, Ter! Where's your girl?"
    He smiles a lopsided smile. His skin is beautifully tanned, easily one of my favorite things about him and there's remnants of a beard coming in. His eyes are practically black but he has a good heart. You have to really know him to know that. Off the top he comes off like a jerk.
    "Right here."
    "Boy, please," I say holding back a smile.
    "So, has your mom's new boyfriend gotten to you yet?"
    I snatch my hand away and stand up.
    "Why would you ask me that?" I whisper, disgusted.
    He stands, "I didn't mean it like that."
    "Then how did you mean it? I told you that in confidence."
    "I know but--"
    "You'd be in jail if I hadn't talked you down."
    He looks away.
    "That will never happen again. I was..." I trail off not knowing what I was.
    "I'm here for you, Azaria."
    "I know."
    I suddenly feel very lost and I think he senses that because he hugs me.
    "Terry, what's going on?"
    "Go away!" I hear him growl at the voice I know belongs to his girlfriend.
    Everyone in this school knows Terry and I will never be over, new girlfriend or not. We were perfect for each other in a destructive kind of way. We were in love; still are to a degree. I just didn't want us to get to a point where we changed from violent love to all violence and no love. I had enough of that at home.
    We started off well enough, like any couple. We lived in this bubble made of steel and there were no windows. We were we and there was no one else. There was no one we felt we needed to answer to because no one existed but us.
    Soon after, I began to make a big deal if his eyes strayed and he'd blow up if I even snickered at another guy's joke, nevermind if it was at his expense. We'd argue and the fights would be loud and big. I'd avoid him for days on end while still missing him like crazy.
    We'd finally make up passionately and our kisses would be filled with want. We'd kiss for hours. He'd pull at my clothes and I'd claw at his back, never actually committing the act which just made us both sexually frustrated.
    This is the dance we'd repeat all the while getting more and more physical. One of us needed to notice the pattern. When I realized what was happening and how it mimicked my mother's escapades, I ended things.
    In the midst of all of that, we learned a lot about each other. For instance, he's the only person who knows about my life at home. He's been there at night, unbeknownst to my mother, when she brought a random guy over who paid her for her services and then beat the stuffing out of her because she didn't last that long or because she, on one of rare occasions, kept him out of my room.
    He knows me. Not just the me I want everyone to know. I'm all that I am but I bring my "shining" qualities to the forefront when I don't want to give off hints that something's bothering me.
    I realize how much he means to me and I kiss him like he's still mine. I know everybody's looking because that's like one of my things, to be watched. And I know she's watching and hating me but in pain because of him. People tried to warn her. Maybe she thought she could change him.
    "Thanks," I say and turn to go.
    He holds on a bit longer than he should then lets me go.
    I escape to the band room. I find my seat and my snare drum and tap away at it, not too loud and not too serious.
    Mr. Washington comes in from his private office.
    "I thought I heard someone out here."
    He is the youngest and most attractive band coordinator we've ever had. Then again, he's that good.
    Today he's wearing blue jeans, a white button down and a red pullover vest. Earrings shine in his ears reminding me that he's somehow gotten away with that so far.
    "What are you doing here so early?"
    "Had to get away."
    He's attracted to me but I'm okay with that because I'm attracted to him too.
    He keeps his distance, "What're you running from?"
    The world, I think.
    I shrug my shoulders for him.
    "You don't strike me as the unsure type."
    "I'm not. But there are just some things my careless attitude doesn't have an answer for."
    "You never cease to amaze me with your maturity."
    I laugh, "Some people would argue with you on that. But I have no choice but to be mature. Azaria doesn't have the luxury of being a happy-go-lucky teen."
    "Sounds deep rooted. Do you want to talk about it?"
    I become acutely aware that if I say yes, I'll have him. Our relationship will grow until we finally sleep together and he eventually loses his job. Meanwhile, I'll possibly graduate and go on to live my life while his is ruined.
    "No, thanks. I've been coping for this long. I can manage a bit longer."
    He smiles and heads back into his office.
    Band class helps me get out some frustrations. After school, I head home. I see Terry and his girlfriend. She's yelling at him but he's smiling and waving goodbye to me. Soon enough I see my brick bungalow house coming up soon. It's nothing special with it's broken gate and it's crappy lawn and it's terribly paved driveway.
    I walk up the walkway and climb the four stairs and sigh, not quite prepared for another day at "home".
    When I open the door, Brad is standing there. 
    "Not in the mood," I warn, squeezing past him for the second time today.
    "Too bad. And we finally get to have some...alone time."
    Something about the pause in that statement alerts me to my current predicament.
    "Where's my mom?"
    "Not here. Aren't we lucky?"
    I quickly turn back toward the door and he grabs my backpack. I slip out of the straps and fall out of the door that he hadn't bothered to close yet. I skin my hands in an attempt to protect my face from the fall.
    "You'll have to come back sometime," he muses.
    "Like hell I do," I spit on the walkway.
    He doesn't like that so he comes out after me but I run back down the walkway and away from that house. I spot a black truck parked outside the house but keep running. This time for my survival.