Push - Chapter One - By Lauren & Hattie
Chapter 1
I watched the shadows dance across my wall. They'd never seemed so menacing, so sinister, so cold. I buried my head under my pillow until I realized what a child I was being. I stared again at the shadows, sizing them up. I notice one shadow was blacker than the others. My heart pounded when a vase next to my bed fell to the floor but didn't break, just spilled the single rose it held.
Last month, a girl at my school committed suicide.
She was the kind of girl who was a little "too" brainy, wore those big out-of-fashion glasses, and was picked on constantly.
I was one of her attackers, yeah, but it was only once. Before my friends started picking on her too, I just sat back and watched. I didn't want to get involved, whether it was the tormenting side or her side. But then when my friends threatened to ditch me if I didn't join in on the tormenting, I wasn't about to become someone who got picked on. I stood in front of her, grabbed her glasses and stepped on them mercilessly. She looked up at me, tears forming in the pits of her eyes which I now noticed were large, brown and beautiful, and she tried to run, but, since I had broken her glasses, she mostly stomped around wildly.
I knew then that's why her glasses were so big and thick. She needed them, otherwise she was good as blind. I looked at the crushed glass under my shoe, and walked away with a smug expression on my face as if my heart wasn't twisting in agony for her. About five guys from our school circled around her, pushing her around in the circle and throwing glass from her glasses at her. For some reason, she never reported it.
The following day, she came with contacts, her large brown eyes no longer covered by her thick glasses. She kept her chin held high through the day as some seniors poked fun at her, noticing how hot she suddenly was.
After school that same day, I was walking home and saw them corner her. I saw them do things to her they shouldn't, they were touching her, but I didn't do anything. I looked at her, and she stared at me, and as her eyes pleaded for help, she opened up her mouth and mouthed something I couldn't quite understand. She wasn't going to do anything, but I could tell that she'd had enough. She was ready to give up. I ran from there, horrified that I had pretty much caused that, but I couldn't shake the image of her eyes boring up at me from my mind. I didn't sleep that night, and I rushed to school the next morning, looked around for her. I didn't find her, but I knew that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't there.
She wasn't.
Galena Ann Morris committed suicide on December 19, 2009, and if I had reached out to help her, I could have saved her life. I'm a murderer.
I pulled my pillow over my head and make sure all my body is covered by something. I didn't reach down to grab the vase, or the rose. I let them sit there, and I never fell asleep.
In the morning, I stumbled down the hall to the kitchen where I started to pour some cereal, but I lost my appetite quickly. I heard footsteps coming from the stairs-- heavy ones, not my mother's featherweight ones. I stiffened, and started scarfing down my cereal. If he catches me not eating, he will knock me so hard I won--
"Cadence?" Dad asked me, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. I did my best to make it feel like I'm relaxed.
"Yes, Dad?" I took another bite of Frosted Flakes.
"Have you done your morning chores?" He took a sip of his beer and rested his hand on the table calmly.
A lump formed in my throat, and I did my best to swallow. "No, but--"
"No?" Dad thundered. "No? Why haven't you? Suddenly becoming a princess now, are we? Did you think breakfast was more important than living in a clean house?" Dad raised his hand and smacked me on the side of the head, and I fell off my stool onto the cold, hard linoleum covering my kitchen floor.
"I'm sorry, I was planning on doing it next, I'm sorry! My alarm clock didn't go off! I'm sorry," I rushed to explain. I scrambled to my feet, pushing out apology after apology from my throat.
Dad spat on me. "Useless." He smacked my cereal bowl off the counter, and it shattered and Frosted Flakes spill everywhere. "Clean that up." He kicked my shin, downed the last of his beer and crushed the can against my forehead. He raised his hand and looked at me coldly, embers of rage burning in his eyes. He walked out the door and I heard his car door slam.
My mother came down the steps, holding her face with a wet cloth. I noticed when I saw her face a red hand mark creeping across her cheek from under the cloth. I straightened myself out, wanting to stay strong for her. "Did he...?"
I shrugged, then quickly cleaned up my father's mess. Another typical morning in the life of Cadence Alexandria Peirce.
Mom let out a small cry, then walked back upstairs and shut her door. I heard it lock, and I listened to her sobs as they echoed throughout the house. I felt like crying, too. I was pretty much responsible for Galena's death, and even though its almost been a month since, I couldn't stop feeling guilty, but I guess neither could anyone else at school. I decided I'd handle my dad's wrath for not doing my chores after school, so I quickly dumped the shards of glass from the bowl into the trash can. I turned around to grab my bag, and in the second my back is turned, the trash can fell over, its contents spilling everywhere. Just like with my vase, I realized. I swept it up silently and put it in the garage in a new bag, then I ran to my bus stop, a bruise sprouting on my shin, clearly visible through my thin knee high socks with Cadence sewn into them. I wear them because my school forces girls to wear short skirts year round, even in winter, like now.
Galena used to ride the same bus as me. Whenever I boarded it, I'd see her first, sitting alone in the front seat, or getting her head knocked against the window mercilessly in the one seat the driver's mirror can't see. My bus was the one bus that doesn't have a security camera on it, either, and nobody had bothered to report what was going on.
When I boarded the bus, all is silent, and almost every other window has a picture of Galena. I walked to the very back of the bus, past the boys that touched her, pushed past my "friends" who sat in the middle of the bus, where I sat right by the window. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Nobody did anything. The bus left the stop, Galena-less once again.
Once at school, most of the kids were quiet. That's how you know which ones tormented her and feel guilty now. I'm one of them. My "friends" pretended they didn't do anything by talking and laughing. I trekked past them, and they stopped to look at me. They didn't seem to get why I didn't want to hang out with them anymore, why I ignored them. They just looked at me like I'd gone nuts. Maybe I have, but I'm not completely sure yet. I continued walking to the school's double doors, listening to the steady rhythm of my Converse sneakers scraping against the rough asphalt.
In first period, I rubbed my forehead where my dad crushed his beer can against it. I could feel the bruise there, and I knew it was probably going to turn yellow or green, but my thick bangs hid it well enough that I thought nobody would notice.
I had first period with Galena. She sat to my left, and my friend Lianne sat to my right. Galena would glance over at me every few seconds, and that annoyed the crap out of me then. Now I kind of miss it. I'm pretty sure she did that because she was worried I'd smack her when the teacher wasn't looking or something. I wouldn't have ever had the guts to do that. I don't even know how I managed to crush her glasses. I wasn't thinking straight... Not that that's a good excuse, but it's still an excuse.
Lianne still sat by me, and she occasionally passed me a note, but after I read it, I'd crumple it up in my fist and pocket it. They had been full of Why aren't you talking to Lesley, Kaylee, and I? We miss you! Please reply. Don't ignore, please - Lianne which, against her wishes, I'd ignore. I hardly even looked at them after a while. My old friends were the reason I did that to Galena, possibly why she's dead now. I told myself this every night I laid motionless in my bed, mostly so I might not feel so guilty, although I knew I was right to feel as bad as I did. As I do still.
I watched the shadows dance across my wall. They'd never seemed so menacing, so sinister, so cold. I buried my head under my pillow until I realized what a child I was being. I stared again at the shadows, sizing them up. I notice one shadow was blacker than the others. My heart pounded when a vase next to my bed fell to the floor but didn't break, just spilled the single rose it held.
Last month, a girl at my school committed suicide.
She was the kind of girl who was a little "too" brainy, wore those big out-of-fashion glasses, and was picked on constantly.
I was one of her attackers, yeah, but it was only once. Before my friends started picking on her too, I just sat back and watched. I didn't want to get involved, whether it was the tormenting side or her side. But then when my friends threatened to ditch me if I didn't join in on the tormenting, I wasn't about to become someone who got picked on. I stood in front of her, grabbed her glasses and stepped on them mercilessly. She looked up at me, tears forming in the pits of her eyes which I now noticed were large, brown and beautiful, and she tried to run, but, since I had broken her glasses, she mostly stomped around wildly.
I knew then that's why her glasses were so big and thick. She needed them, otherwise she was good as blind. I looked at the crushed glass under my shoe, and walked away with a smug expression on my face as if my heart wasn't twisting in agony for her. About five guys from our school circled around her, pushing her around in the circle and throwing glass from her glasses at her. For some reason, she never reported it.
The following day, she came with contacts, her large brown eyes no longer covered by her thick glasses. She kept her chin held high through the day as some seniors poked fun at her, noticing how hot she suddenly was.
After school that same day, I was walking home and saw them corner her. I saw them do things to her they shouldn't, they were touching her, but I didn't do anything. I looked at her, and she stared at me, and as her eyes pleaded for help, she opened up her mouth and mouthed something I couldn't quite understand. She wasn't going to do anything, but I could tell that she'd had enough. She was ready to give up. I ran from there, horrified that I had pretty much caused that, but I couldn't shake the image of her eyes boring up at me from my mind. I didn't sleep that night, and I rushed to school the next morning, looked around for her. I didn't find her, but I knew that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't there.
She wasn't.
Galena Ann Morris committed suicide on December 19, 2009, and if I had reached out to help her, I could have saved her life. I'm a murderer.
I pulled my pillow over my head and make sure all my body is covered by something. I didn't reach down to grab the vase, or the rose. I let them sit there, and I never fell asleep.
In the morning, I stumbled down the hall to the kitchen where I started to pour some cereal, but I lost my appetite quickly. I heard footsteps coming from the stairs-- heavy ones, not my mother's featherweight ones. I stiffened, and started scarfing down my cereal. If he catches me not eating, he will knock me so hard I won--
"Cadence?" Dad asked me, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. I did my best to make it feel like I'm relaxed.
"Yes, Dad?" I took another bite of Frosted Flakes.
"Have you done your morning chores?" He took a sip of his beer and rested his hand on the table calmly.
A lump formed in my throat, and I did my best to swallow. "No, but--"
"No?" Dad thundered. "No? Why haven't you? Suddenly becoming a princess now, are we? Did you think breakfast was more important than living in a clean house?" Dad raised his hand and smacked me on the side of the head, and I fell off my stool onto the cold, hard linoleum covering my kitchen floor.
"I'm sorry, I was planning on doing it next, I'm sorry! My alarm clock didn't go off! I'm sorry," I rushed to explain. I scrambled to my feet, pushing out apology after apology from my throat.
Dad spat on me. "Useless." He smacked my cereal bowl off the counter, and it shattered and Frosted Flakes spill everywhere. "Clean that up." He kicked my shin, downed the last of his beer and crushed the can against my forehead. He raised his hand and looked at me coldly, embers of rage burning in his eyes. He walked out the door and I heard his car door slam.
My mother came down the steps, holding her face with a wet cloth. I noticed when I saw her face a red hand mark creeping across her cheek from under the cloth. I straightened myself out, wanting to stay strong for her. "Did he...?"
I shrugged, then quickly cleaned up my father's mess. Another typical morning in the life of Cadence Alexandria Peirce.
Mom let out a small cry, then walked back upstairs and shut her door. I heard it lock, and I listened to her sobs as they echoed throughout the house. I felt like crying, too. I was pretty much responsible for Galena's death, and even though its almost been a month since, I couldn't stop feeling guilty, but I guess neither could anyone else at school. I decided I'd handle my dad's wrath for not doing my chores after school, so I quickly dumped the shards of glass from the bowl into the trash can. I turned around to grab my bag, and in the second my back is turned, the trash can fell over, its contents spilling everywhere. Just like with my vase, I realized. I swept it up silently and put it in the garage in a new bag, then I ran to my bus stop, a bruise sprouting on my shin, clearly visible through my thin knee high socks with Cadence sewn into them. I wear them because my school forces girls to wear short skirts year round, even in winter, like now.
Galena used to ride the same bus as me. Whenever I boarded it, I'd see her first, sitting alone in the front seat, or getting her head knocked against the window mercilessly in the one seat the driver's mirror can't see. My bus was the one bus that doesn't have a security camera on it, either, and nobody had bothered to report what was going on.
When I boarded the bus, all is silent, and almost every other window has a picture of Galena. I walked to the very back of the bus, past the boys that touched her, pushed past my "friends" who sat in the middle of the bus, where I sat right by the window. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Nobody did anything. The bus left the stop, Galena-less once again.
Once at school, most of the kids were quiet. That's how you know which ones tormented her and feel guilty now. I'm one of them. My "friends" pretended they didn't do anything by talking and laughing. I trekked past them, and they stopped to look at me. They didn't seem to get why I didn't want to hang out with them anymore, why I ignored them. They just looked at me like I'd gone nuts. Maybe I have, but I'm not completely sure yet. I continued walking to the school's double doors, listening to the steady rhythm of my Converse sneakers scraping against the rough asphalt.
In first period, I rubbed my forehead where my dad crushed his beer can against it. I could feel the bruise there, and I knew it was probably going to turn yellow or green, but my thick bangs hid it well enough that I thought nobody would notice.
I had first period with Galena. She sat to my left, and my friend Lianne sat to my right. Galena would glance over at me every few seconds, and that annoyed the crap out of me then. Now I kind of miss it. I'm pretty sure she did that because she was worried I'd smack her when the teacher wasn't looking or something. I wouldn't have ever had the guts to do that. I don't even know how I managed to crush her glasses. I wasn't thinking straight... Not that that's a good excuse, but it's still an excuse.
Lianne still sat by me, and she occasionally passed me a note, but after I read it, I'd crumple it up in my fist and pocket it. They had been full of Why aren't you talking to Lesley, Kaylee, and I? We miss you! Please reply. Don't ignore, please - Lianne which, against her wishes, I'd ignore. I hardly even looked at them after a while. My old friends were the reason I did that to Galena, possibly why she's dead now. I told myself this every night I laid motionless in my bed, mostly so I might not feel so guilty, although I knew I was right to feel as bad as I did. As I do still.
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3 Comments
I loved the atmosphere, melancholic and foreboding. Good stuff.
If you are the age posted on your profile then I suspect you have a pretty bright future as a writer(s).
Loved it.
AW
@Ancient Woodland, we are both 13, yes. Thanks again, and we haven't really edited it through all the way, and we started the story out with it being in present tense but then Lauren decided it would be better in past tense, and we tried to get all the present tense words into past tense, but we probably missed a few.
@Gerry, yes, we've gotten up to Chapter Nine finished, and I'll post them all on. I'm fairly certain the early chapters don't explain everything right away, but I might be wrong. I'll post the next few chapters now, tell me what you guys think!
--Hattie
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