For privacy reasons I'll be deleting all but the first post of this on May 31st! So hurry up and read!

I don't know why you say goodbye/I say hello.

At a little over 25,000 words I didn't exactly complete my goal. With NanoWrimo I wasn't going to school, so I had all day to sit at the computer and write. Now, not only am I at school anywhere from 3-6 hours four days a week I'm also writing essays, reading chapters and doing homework. My carpal tunnel has also been in full effect. And in the past three days I've had some of the biggest stresses I've faced so far. With the exception of some poetry [(1) (2)] and some blogging I haven't been doing much writing. I have a writing journal and portfolio due on Monday so I'm going to be a bit preoccupied with writing and finishing up those. I'll probably start a new challenge once school is out, but for now I need to take a break on challenging myself to write a certain word count a day.

section 20, we're back!

The zoo…

It certainly answered my question if this was a date or not. Last time I checked dates did not involve little brother or sisters or even cute fuzzy animals. Not that I would actually know or anything. My knowledge of dating ended at what I had seen on TV and what Kayla had told me about hers, and I had never seen any zoos or siblings on the dates.

Despite my lack of enthusiasim for the zoo outing I still heard myself saying yes and at dinner I found myself asking my parents if I could take Andrew with me. The feeling was kind of the same from when I accepted the cigarette. I had no idea why I was doing it, I didn’t really want to but something in me was still going through with it. All be it, going to the zoo was far less dangerous and illegal than smoking behind the library.

“Wait, you want to take Andrew with you? I usually have to beg you just to watch him.” Mom said snidely.

“Well, it was Lyle’s idea.”

“Andrew, do you want to go to the zoo?” Mom asked in a tone that was usually reserved for a younger child.

“Gerald McGrew. McGrew Zoo,” Andrew chanted. He had been quietly eating his noodles, scooping them on to a piece of bread and then eating them off like how you ate oysters.

“Gerald McGrew?” Mom questioned.

“It’s a Dr. Suess book,” I explained.

She sighed and asked her question again.

“Yes, go to the zoo on Saturday.” Coming from Andrew this was kind of surprising. It was a (almost) full and relevant sentence. Everyone at the table was surprised, except Andrew who had gone back to shoveling down pasta and red sauce.

“Well, I don’t see why not…” Mom trailed off, twirling her plain noodles with her fork.

Dad jumped in, once again stopping us from arguing. “Who’s driving?”

“Lyle is. Remember, he’s the one who gave me a ride home from group on Wednesday.” Of course neither of them remembered, but what was the point of making a big deal of it? It was nothing new in the life of Brigitte Cooper.

“Is he a good driver?”

“Well, I made it home on Wednesday right?”

“What kind of car does he have?” Why does that matter?

“Uhm… one with wheels?” I had no clue what kind of car he had. It was car shaped, not a Jeep or SUV or truck. Just a regular car with four doors and four wheels.

“Just know,” Mom pointed her fork at me for emphasis, “that if Andrew starts freaking out you’ll need to come home right away.” Yeah, I definitely knew how that was. Andrew had ruined plenty of outings for us. I couldn’t remember the last time my entire family had sat through a movie at the movie theatre.

“I know, Mom,” was all I said though. I was starting to realize that sometimes it just wasn’t worth it. No matter what I said or did she was right and that was all there was to it.

“And keep your cell phone with you.”

I was fifteen, I could barely go to the bathroom without my cell phone.

“And on.”

It was only her that had the problem of turning it on.

I kept my comments to myself though and kept eating. I had what was almost a date with Lyle.

dsfdfsafsfdsafdsafdsafdsa

Since I went to a school that had a uniform I had hard time figuring out what to wear on Saturday morning. Usually it didn’t matter, I would just be doing homework and watching TV, maybe if I was lucky I’d get to go to the mall with Kayla. Today was different though, I putzed through my slim collection of April in Denver appropriate clothes before settling on a pair of capris and a t-shirt and zip up hoodie combo. I thought that it said what I was trying to say, even if I wasn’t sure what I was wanting to say. I thought Lyle was cute and that he was nice. We both liked Fro-Yo so that seemed like a plus. I just didn’t know how I felt about Sophie… I wanted to distance myself as much as I could from anything that could be connected to Andrew. I didn’t think it made me a horrible person, I just wanted a life that was seperate from Andrew.

I could hear Mom down the hall getting Andrew ready. He was repeating lines from If I Ran the Zoo while she washed his face and even brushed his teeth. He had been carrying the book around all morning, along with his A-Z Animal Encyclopedia. It was going to be a long day.

At 10:45 Lyle sent me a text message to let me know he was on his way. Dad gave me the run down of what was expected of me. I wasn’t listening though, just waiting for the cash to slip in to my hands. I knew how to handle Andrew in public, I knew what overwhelmed and I knew how to avoid those things. It wasn’t like I hadn’t taken Andrew out by myself before, my parents just liked to act like I hadn’t.

I had the cash in my hand when Lyle pulled up in his car. “Going to the zoo. Going to the zoo. Going to the zoo.” Andrew came catapulting down the hallway, galloping and flapping his arms. Oh yeah, today was going to be a blast. Perhaps I could get Lyle to stop at Daz Bog to get some coffee. Something dark and hard. Nevermind that I hadn’t had anything harder in my life than a caramel frappuccino. I wasn’t sure that would give me the energy to get through this day with Andrew. I didn’t think today would entail chasing Andrew around, I thought that perhaps his meds would have some affect on him. No such luck.

Lyle got out of the car to meet us. I thought it was a little weird and almost awkward, until I saw him going for my dad. And by going for I mean going up to shake his hand not going for the jugular. It was the equivilant of watching the same thing. He was dressed respectfully, jeans and a dark non-descript shirt. My dad would like that. His jeans weren’t sagging down to the ground and his hair looked like it had seen a comb in the past few hours. Lyle was presentable.

Maybe I was comparing him to Devyn though. Compared to Devyn pretty much any guy from the Denver teen population was presentable. But maybe that’s what made Devyn like a magnet. He wasn’t like anyone else.

Andrew jumped up and down next to me and shook me out my thoughts of Devyn, which was good. I needed to focus on the here and now, on Andrew, Devyn and his little sister Sophie who was sitting in the car behind us. Andrew was chatting too loudly for me to hear what Lyle and my dad were talking about. I could see them shake hands and being cordial, but not much else. I wished I had taken the time to learn how to read lips or better read body language, this not knowing was terrifying.

Eventually, Lyle turned around smiling and Dad didn’t look disgruntled. I let out a deep breath; it wasn’t so bad. Lyle walked down the paved path towards and knelt down in front of Andrew.

“Hey, Andrew! I’m Lyle.” He held out his hand and Andrew slapped his down into his. “Are we gonna have fun today?” Lyle asked cheerfully. The enthusiasim was over the top, but the smile on his face was genuine. It was odd. None of my friends had ever interacted well with Andrew. Cody did his best and even gave him old books of his (he had one about zoo animals in his hand right now). Kayla on the other hand didn’t really try at all. I didn’t blame her though, what was she supposed to do? Besides the high five Andrew didn’t answer any of his questions, just kept chatting away to him and mumbling nonsense.

For the first time, Lyle looked up at me, still kneeling before Andrew. “Are you excited?”

I tried to grin, but the more I really thought about it the more uncertain I was about the whole thing. I wanted to go on a date with Lyle, not on some special ed outing with his sister and Andrew. I had this urge to cross my arms in front of my chest and stamp my feet. Once again Andrew was ruining what I wanted. It sounded selfish, but it wasn’t like I got things that I wanted all the time. It wasn’t like I had this whole other life that was without Andrew. He pretty much permeated everything I did unless I put a deadblot lock on it. Like, Devyn. Devyn provided me a life with a deadbolt lock on it.

“You excited?” he asked again when I didn’t answer.

“Yeah, as excited as I’ll ever be at least.” I added the last part quietly before making sure Andrew sat nicely in the car and got buckled up. He was going through a phase where he didn’t wear his seatbelt, which was irritating.

“Hi!” Sophie leaned into Andrew and spoke to him.

“He’s not going to really answer,” I tried to explain.

“It’s okay,” she said to me. Her voice was sweet and soft and had a slight lisp to it, like she was speaking through a mouthful of cotton candy. “Lyle told me.” She held out her hand to me, “I’m Sophia.”

I shook her hand, it was chubby and clammy. “Hey, Sophia, I’m Brigitte.”

“You can call me Sophie,” she said, pushing a cascade of blonde curls out of her face. She had the typical characteristics of someone with down syndrome but it made her strikingly beautiful. Blonde curls that people paid hundreds for framed her chubby face, her bright blue eyes popped and smoke volumes. And comapred to Andrew’s her eyes connected to mine. When I spoke to Andrew, it was like he looked through me. It wasn’t like that with Sophie.

I walked around to the front of the car and slid in to the front seat. Lyle had cleaned the car out recently, it was free of the empty coffee and soda cups that had been there just a few nights ago. I smiled and felt the butterflies go off once again in my stomach. I thought it was cute that he had taken the time to pull the trash out of his car for me… well, for us.

The drive to the zoo was short (and with no stop to the coffee shop, not that I asked though). We really only lived down the road from it, even though we didn’t go very often. Mom didn’t like chancing that Andrew would act up, or that it was too hot or too cold or snowing or raining (come on! It was Denver. It wouldn’t be Denver if it didn’t rain.) Andrew liked the zoo though, he liked the animals and that we got to eat out somewhere. He didn’t like the crowd though and with it being a beautiful Saturday in April I was scared that he would act up.

“Hey, you’re okay if we have to leave suddenly, right?” I asked him once we were in line for tickets. Maybe it was a little late to be asking but I did need to ask.

He nodded and I seemed to understand completely, “It’s not a problem. I kind of figured it might happen.”

Sophia was cute and patient while we stood in the long line, carefully keeping a grasp on Lyle’s hand. Andrew on the other hand kept trying to run off towards the gates. My grasp on his hand was strong but he kept pulling at me and making my shoulder scream. That combined with the hot sun on my back none of this was looking very good.

My neck was already burning up by the time we got into the park and I was missing the days where Andrew fit in to those stupid kid leashes. It wasn’t that bad though. Once we got the animals Andrew was content with his book and Sophia was content to watch them. At each enclosure we would come to Andrew would read the animals name and try and find them in his book, when he found them things were good but when he didn’t find them we had to move from the exhibit quickly because he showed the signs of throwing a tantrum.

As for Lyle and I, we talked. He asked me how my school was and told me about his.

“That seems so intense.”

“I guess it is, but Sophia and I get to go to the same school, which is important to our parents. And they have high hopes for me to go to a good college, Dad wants me to go to his alma matar.”

“Where’d he go?” I asked him. We were in the cool indoors of the bird exhibit and we had let Sophia and Andrew walk ahead of us, but not by much.

“Yale,” he said shortly. He didn’t seem to happy about it but at least his parents had spoken to him about college. Mine hadn’t really said much of anything except that I needed to get good grades and apply for scholarships.

“Wow, to study what?”

“I don’t know yet. Dad wants me to major in business and communications, Mom wants me to major in law.”

“And what about you?” I asked looking up at him. In the soft light of the bird room he looked sadder, like he was more weighed down by something. I could see the dark circles under his eyes and the chapped portions of his bitten down lips. I hadn’t noticed it before, I had thought that he was carefree and had this great life. Wednesday night I had almost been jealous of him, but now I realized that he had just as many problems as I did.

word count: 2,385

total: 25,022

to go: 4,978

explanation

Let me explain, school has been very, very hard for me this semester. I'm taking a math class that isn't a repeat for me, I'm taking a science class and my Shakespeare class has me in a little over my head. Not to mention that on top of what I have to write for this challenge I also have to write for my creative writing class. I love writing but I hit a limit sometimes!

Right now this story is at 22,600 words (not all of it is posted yet). My intention for this challenge was to do a thousand words a day and end up with 30,000 words. From NanoWrimo I know that 30,000 is where I usually start figuring things out. And I'm starting to get there.

At the end of day school has to come first. My grades are important and so is my sanity and sleep. I cannot be doing the five to six hours a night that I have. So, I'm taking an itsy-bitsy break. I have an essay due on the 25th. After I finish that essay I will start posting again and I will post to catch up. No matter what I will finish this month with 30,000 words.

section 19

author's note: school is still controlling me, probably will until Sunday. I'll post what I can but I'm not going to stick to a word count. note, this takes place a few sections ago.

weekend after first group meeting

The phone rang at 3:37. I was waiting for the red paint to dry ony my fingernails and listening to Andrew stack and topple blocks over and over again. “One. Two. Three. Four.” He’d count up to twelve and then knock the stack over, only to start the whole process over again. I wasn’t in the same room as him but he had done it so many times before that I didn’t really need to see him to know what he was doing when I heard the counting and the crashing. It drove us all nuts but there was something soothing about it to him, like it was chant for him.

I had been sitting here on my bed for about two and a half hours, mostly thinking about what had happened with Devyn on Thursday. I could have talked to Kayla about it, I even flipped my phone around a few times, opening and closing it to send a text message to her and asking her how I was supposed to feel. I only got as far selecting her phone number though. Kayla was a great best friend as far as best friends went. She was a little harsh and a little abrasive, but that was her. You could go to her for sympathy but you probably wouldn’t get any. Kayla was also far more mature than I was and I wasn’t sure she really worried about things like smoking or drugs or sex like I did. For her it was just another thing to check off, but for me it was something a lot bigger. Something more than just a check mark.

The phone ringing pulled me out of my my mini-meditation. Carefully I rolled over my bed and grabbed for the reciever.

“Cooper Sanitorium,” I answered. Mom hated when I did this, but it wasn’t like it was false advirtising this was practically an insane asylum. At least on most days—the blocks crashed again—like today.

“Uhm,” the voice on the other end was deep but still pretty young, “is Brigitte there?”

“Yes,” I said cheerfully, trying to figure out who the voice belonged to, “Brigitte is a full time resident at Cooper Sanitorium,” I put on my best sectretary voice, “may I ask who is calling for her?”

“This is Lyle… I’m not sure—”

I sat up so quickly I fell off the bed and on to the pile of textbooks that I had placed next to my bed with better intentions than just letting them take up space.

“Lyle, hi, this is Brigitte, yeah. Hi. How are you?” I clamped my hand over my mouth to stop the word vomit from coming up.

“I’m doing good,” I could tell he was smiling. I imagined him sitting on the couch, his arms were resting on his knees, his right hand was holding the cellphone to his ear and left hand was fiddling with the loose thread on the hole in the knee of his jeans.

“So,” I tried to fill the silence with something but couldn’t think of anything to say, “you called…”

“Oh, yeah,” he seemed startled, “I called you. Well, I wanted to ask you if wanted to go the zoo with me tomorrow.”

The zoo? I had smoked my first cigarette three days ago; I couldn’t go to the zoo. Wait. Was this a date? If it was the zoo was better than nothing, and the animals would provide a distraction. If we went to the movies I would have to worry over whether or not I would pay for tickets and food and whether or not I would use the hand rest next to him. The zoo was safer ground… but what was so fun about being safe?

He must have noticed my hesitation. “Yeah, I thought you could bring your brother and I could bring my sister. I thought it would be a fun thing to do.”

Fun thing to do.

section 18 (or the one that really doesn't go anywhere but let's not tell anyone

author's note: I love, love, loved Boulder, Co. Like a newer San Luis or Santa Cruz but surrounded by mountains.

“You mean metaphorically right? Because of the altitude?” I had heard all the lame jokes about the mile-high city, but I wasn’t sure Devyn joked. He teased, he picked on and he bullied but I was pretty certain that was where his social skills ended. Like Andrew, he was limited in how he could interact with people.

Devyn looked at me with this confused look on his face as he pulled off the main road and started going towards the mountains. “Metaphorically mean—”

“I know what metaphorically means, pretty girl. Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked it honestly, not in a way where is was rhetorical. Which was hard because that meant I was expected to answer… but, logically, if Devyn didn’t always answer my questions then I didn’t always have to answer his. Which was good because the truth was I didn’t think he was very smart, he didn’t try very hard in school, he never turned in homework from what I saw. He only did enough to pass the class and get on to the next one.

“So,” I attempted to change the subject, “when you say high what do you mean?”

“Intoxicated, lit, stoned, wrecked, doped up,” he rattled off a few words with the swoosh of his hands.

“Oh,” it came out weak and terrified, probably because I was weak and terrified. I had smoked a cigarette, that was a big step for me but in six years that would also be legal for me. Smoking I was okay with, something harder… “What, uhm, are we smoking?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Pretty girl you need to learn to relax, chill out a little bit, go with the flow.”

Go with the flow? I bit down on my lip and watched the trees fly by. I tried to get glimpses of the signs at they went by but between the the car going faster than the speed limit and my nervouseness I wasn’t able to process the clumps of letters.

“Shouldn’t— shouldn’t you slow down? You don’t want to be pulled over. I mean, that would really suck,” I tried to suggest it calmly, like it was just a thought and not a plea so that I didn’t go insane.

“You scared we’re gonna get pulled over, PG?” The new name startled me—PG, pretty girl—but not enough to get me off track. I had been meaning to ask him since he took us to the parking lot off of school campus.

“Well, it’s just you’re fifteen,” I pointed out, “I don’t want you to get pulled over because I’m pretty sure we’ll both be arrested and calling my parents from the police station is not the kind of attention that I was looking for.

Devyn laughed. I realized that so far everytime he had laughed in my presence he had been laughing at me. It didn’t make me feel inferior like it should have, I just felt like that was the only way Devyn laughed. He had been the sixth grader beating up kids on the playground, laughing. If he ever ate a popsicle he probably didn’t even read the joke on the stick.

“I’m sixteen,” he said, running a hand through the greasy curls that were usually hidden underneath the ugly grey beanie.

“Sixteen… but you’re a sophomore.” It dawned on me… Devyn had been held back. This wasn’t such an epiphany, it was no eureka moment.

“Why are you so shocked?” he asked.

I didn’t really want to say it. I knew it was rude and that it meant I was thinking less of him and we were in the middle of nowhere somewhere near Boulder but he could very easily take me out of the car injure or kill me and have a million different choices on where to hide the body.

“I just figured that you would drop out once you were sixteen,” I said quickly, knowing he would pester the answer out of me. If I was lucky he would kill me and hide the body, if he injured and ditched me it would be a much more painful death, one that I wasn’t looking forward too.

What I had said seemed to have taken him aback just a little, not enough to get much of a reaction beyond a small flinch in his face and white knuckles but it was some reaction.

“Why’s that?”

“You just… you just don’t seem to care,” I said heefully.

“So you just think I’m a lazy jackass?”

“No, I mean—” I stopped myself, because that was exactly what I meant.

“Look, I have to stay in school. I’ll get in to more trouble than I already do and then no foster family will take me in.” Foster family? Things were starting to make more sense. It was probably predjudice of me or something to think that Devyn’s rebeliousness made more sense because of his family background but… wasn’t I doing the same thing? Not calling home when Lyle took me out for frozen yogurt, the cigarette, whatever was about to happen when we reached or destination, which was probably Utah or Wyoming.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to be mean, I just assumed.”

He smiled snidely, “Don’t assume anything about me.” He made a sharp turn that caused me to crash in to the window, the flesh of my shoulder dug painfully into the raised lock mechanism. I looked at his face set in a grim line, he had probably done it on purpose. I didn’t say anything, once again using the fact that were in the middle of nowhere to strengthen my self-control. I rubbed the pain out of my shoulder, it was probably going to be a pretty ugly bruise by tomorrow morning.

We were on a dirt road now and the springs in his car weren’t great, with every jostle of the road we moved. I bit my tongue more then once and tasted blood before he pulled up to a small leveled off piece of road. It looked kind of like a cul-de-sac except instead of lined with houses it was lined with trees.

word count: 1034

total: 21, 808

section 17

author's note: falling asleep, sorry, love you all my darling readers, good night.

“Where are we going?” I asked, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a bad silence, not an awkward silence, just a silence. He had driven me out of Denver pretty far though, school had been out for at least a half hour. The trees and tall buildings were starting to turn in to mountains. You never got too far away from mountains when you lived in Denver, but when you got closer to them they were immense.

I looked at the road signs that passed by when he didn’t answer. “Wait a minute,” I looked around at the surroundings, “are we going to Boulder?” Dad’s brother had lived up there before moving to Boise and we had driven the way there on pretty much every holiday because the house was bigger than ours and circular and Andrew liked running around the house in circles. Uncle Craig had three little children who liked playing with Andrew, they thought he was just an overgrown toddler.

When Devyn didn’t say anything I realized that we were in fact going to Boulder. “Devyn, I can’t go to Boulder. My parents think that I’m at the library,” I looked back at the highway behind us, as if I was thinking of getting out of the moving car and walking back home. “I don’t break rules, Devyn. My parents have enough to handle!”

Devyn laughed, it was silent but he looked up at the ceiling with disbelief. “What happened when you came home last Thursday, pretty girl? What’d your parents have to say about your cigarette breath?”

That made me stop my mini-hysterics. My parents hadn’t noticed that my eyes were red or that my voice had been hoarse, they hadn’t noticed that my breath had smelled like nicotine or how fidgety or paranoid I was. They hadn’t noticed anything.

“And how did you feel after that cigarette?” he said cigarette like it was a dirty word, like it was something far worse than what it was.

I felt… well, the truth was I felt a little nauseous and I had a pretty bad headache until I went to bed… but the feeling of getting one over my parents had felt pretty good. It was like something that I could hold over them, something that they didn’t know about. It was something that they wouldn’t let me do but I was still able to do. They wouldn’t let me go to the dance and there was no way around that one… but I could smoke a cigarette. I didn’t exactly like it, but I could do it.

Screw them.

I noticed Devyn looking at me and I must have had a smile of some sort on my face because he justed nodded and said, “That’s what I thought.”

I sighed and resigned myself to whatever it was that Devyn had planned. I didn’t exactly trust him… he was an okay driver if that meant anything. Especially for being fifteen…

“So,” I started, “what are we going to do if we get pulled over?”

“What do you mean?” he asked it like I was trying to say something else. Like he thought we were going to pop open a few beers and start drinking them while on the way to Boulder. I snuck a glance behind the seat to make sure there weren’t any beers there.

“Well, you’re fifteen,” I stated, “you can’t drive.”

For the first time Devyn looked uncomfortable, but it was only for a second. “I’m sixteen, actually. I was held back.”

“That must have sucked.” I wasn’t surprised though.

“I didn’t really care.” And he really meant it.

I fiddled with the radio station and leaned back in the beat up seat, it was uncomfortable and had no support but it felt nice. The sun was beating in through the untinted window and warmed my face, it reminded me of being six and mimicing my Mom at the pool as she sunbathed.

“So what are we doing in Boulder?” I wasn’t sure if he would answer, he was about as cryptic as a Greek textbook without a translation.

Without turning on his blinker he merged through three lanes and made it off the exit and started driving through downtown Boulder. I loved downtown Boulder. It was new and pretty and well placed, it was decorated though so that it looked like it had been there for years. The shopping center was permeated with touches of the surrounding nature, but still had the clean look of an outdoor mall. The contrast of the shopping district and mountains was beautiful.

“We’re getting high.”

“Wait… what?”

word count: you don't want to know

section 16 (or the chapter where I had a hard time pluralizing words, so please give me a break

author's note: this is not something that would actually be included in the manuscript but writing from a different character's point of view can help pinpoint what their motivation is and everyone needs motivation. Jessie pointed out that Devyn was starting to become likable, of course he is, he's a bad boy. bad boys are incrediably likable, us girls are just hardwired that way. but Devyn isn't a good guy, not even deep down inside. he's no onion, there's no layers to him. so, enjoy...

The burn of pot smoke in my eyes was not unfamiliar, I had become accustomed to it a long time ago. I blew the smoke of the joint up in to the air, it swirled up towards the ceiling where there was a dark stain of more pot smoke. I took in a deep breath and let my head spin for a few more minutes before bringing the joint back up to my chapped lips. These days I prefered harder stuff but I had to be somewhere that I needed to be at least relatively straight for.

It had been years since pot had done much beyond calm me down, acclimating was a bitch. I had been introduced to weed in my first foster home. I was nine. Foster homes got a bad rap and they should. Somewhere there were good foster parents, but all you needed was one bad one and you would never get a good one. My good one came at age nine and from then on I was screwed. Screwed and tattooed like Mr. Rivera always said.

I was with the Rivera’s for three years. Between that time I had become addicted to the second hand smoke of the dope, I had seen the process of snorthing crack and I knew how to revive someone when they passed out due to alcohol. Some nine year old’s had to learn to make their own bed, their own lunch, maybe were even handed a few chores around the house. I was different though.

Sure I had responibilities. Shit, I had the most important job of all. The Rivera’s produced and sold drugs, I wasn’t old enough or wise enough then to know what kind of drugs. I knew now that most of them were pretty light, lots of pot but also harder stuff like X and heroin. My job was to count the cash. I was pretty good at math back then. Because I was useful and I lied to the social workers the Rivera’s kept me around longer than the other foster kids. They usually had three or four. The other kids— I couldn’t remember there names, ages or even their genrs now—they knew I was a favorite and hated me. These high school kids thought they had it bad with the popular kids and the losers and where they fit in, the foster kids were worse and it started earlier. The foster care system was dog-eat-dog among the kids and the adults didn’t care enough to do anything about it.

Once I had been adopted. Greg and Maria Hershboc had been the best parents any orphan could have asked for. They adopted me when I was three years old. They came in for a baby but came out with me. My room—my room that was specially decorated for me—was done in blue. I had a toy box full of Tonka trucks and toddler sized sports equipment. It was the best six years of my life. Then one night it was storming. It was always storming. Alexis, my babysitter, came over and I watched my mom and dad leave. My bed time came and went and Alexis put me to bed, it was early in the morning when a social worker woke me up and told me to pack. I cried like a little wuss and did what she told me to. I followed her out to the car and waited for her in the back while she talked to Alexis. I watched Alexis’ face in the porch light. I remember her eyes flitting back and forth between the social worker and me. Her eyes were shiny and she looked terrified. Alexis turned around and locked the front door before going into her car.

I cried for three weeks in a boys’ home before being told y parents had died in car crash. They were sorry that they took so long to tell me and that papers had been lost. I didn’t give a fuck about papers at nine years old. I lost it. I destroyed things in the home. I cried. I beat the younger kids up. I kicked. I screamed. They told me I would be “hard to place” if continued acting like that. I didn’t care. I didn’t give a rat’s ass and I kept it up.

I was placed though. With the Rivera’s. Usually kids get a few good homes before ending up in a bad one but because I was hard to place I got the sour apple earlier. Mr. Rivera said he liked me because I had spunk.

My family at the Rivera’s was unorthodox but I liked it. I adapted and I was useful. I hardly ever went to school, just enough to keep them from calling the social worker but I liked it. I prefered to stay home and play with the Rivera’s son Ricky. He had a Nitendo 64 in his room and I was the only foster kid they had that they let play on it. I was happy again.

Then it changed. It was storming that day too. A social worker came by unexpectantly and found Mrs. Rivera with a needle in her arm and that was the end of my new family. I was bounced around between homes and foster families from there on out. I was twelve by then so my chances of being adopted were slim to none, not to mention that I was “hard to place”. People wanted babies. I was lucky to be adopted when I was three, there was no way I was going to be adopted when I was twelve and was continuously running away from the homes in order to get my hands on some pot. No one wanted a druggie in their house even if the state was giving them money.

I got through it, just like anyone else did. I found harder drugs and found ways to obtain them. I pawned stuff from my foster families’ homes or I sold the drugs for a profit. I learned to stick to myself in high school. I knew the people I needed to go to to get drugs but I didn’t really talk to them otherwise. I hooked up with drunk girls at parties but I didn’t have relationships. Relationships were dangerous.

Which brought me to Brigitte. Brigitte wasn’t going to be a relationship. Brigitte amused me. Like silly putty or a yo-yo. Cheap entertainment.

When you were part of the drug and party community you became pretty fluent in pinpointing who people were.

• People who would never do drugs.
• Those who teeter-tottered.
• Those who dabbled.
• Druggies, like me.
• And lifers. They died from the drugs, like Mama Rivera.

Had Mrs. Snyder never grouped us together I never would have fixated on Brigitte. She was a pretty girl and I hated pretty girls. But when I saw Brigitte at the library and I saw how hard she was trying to keep everything together I knew that she was a teeter-totter kind of person. All she needed was one good push. She was never going to be hardcore, she was never going to be hooked beyond perhaps the occaisional social cigarette. But pushing her to the side of evil was something that would keep me amused and my current foster family didn’t have Internet.

So I pushed and she tipped over. Just like I thought she would.

word count: 1246

total: 20,004

section 15

author's note: little Miss Brigitte is up to no good again.

“I’m not angry,” I faltered even though I really wasn’t very angry, at least not at Lyle, “but can you take me home?” I looked down at the the yogurt cup, it was mostly melted and really didn’t look very appetizing now. “I’m not hungry anymore and I’m kind of tired,” I explained. I sniffled, thinking how unattractive it was. It wasn’t like I could help it though.

“Yeah, sure,” he ssaid curtly. It made me feel like crap. I didn’t want him to be mad at me and I didn’t want him to think I was mad at him. I followed him out of Fro-Yo and back to his car where he simply unlocked the door and got in. Last week he sweetly opened the door for me.

I felt defeated.

After he started driving I turned to him, but only slightly. I wasn’t ready to see exactly what he was thinking yet. “I’m not mad at you, Lyle,” I insisted. “I’m just… I’ve never really been asked that and I guess I felt defensive. I mean, I know the way I feel isn’t right. I wish I could be different, I wish everything could be different but I can’t change it and it sucks.”

“I understand Brigitte,” was all he said for the rest of the ride. He didn’t even say good-bye when I got out of the car. After I shut the front door of the house I heard his car drive off, going well beyond the speed limit.

“How was group?” Mom asked from the living.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

I was cranky at school the next day. I was mopey and Kayla said I was depressed. Cody rubbed my back sympathetically even though he didn’t even know what was wrong. I went through the day on auto-pilot. My math notes were pristine, legible and the most thorough I had taken all year. I followed my chemistry teacher’s directions down to a T and didn’t let Kayla or Megan distract me from the assignment. I couldn’t actually recall the assignment though.

“What’s with the sourface, pretty girl?” Devyn asked. He was the first person to actually ask me what’s wrong even if it was pretty rudely. I slumped on to the desk, arms crossed and chin on top of my hands. I rolled my eyes at him and looked at the boaard moodily. “What your mascara clump up this morning?” he proded again.

“Bite me,” I glared at him. We had been broken up in to groups and the rest of the class was pretty loud so I didn’t have to worry about being over heard.

Of course, this only egged him on more. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

“Please don’t call me that,” I begged.

“What someone turn down your invite to the dance?”

And I started crying.

“Oh hell no!” Devyn held up his hands in a form of surrender. I buried my face in my arms, I was pathetic and I was just hoping that no one else was noticing my little breakdown. My breakdown about a boy.

Yes, it was about Lyle. It was about that he was angry at me and that he made me get all emotional the night before and that it hurt. It hurt what I said and I what I realized. I didn’t want to dislike my parents like I did but I also didn’t want to be ignored but I was completely helpless and hopeless because there was nothing I could do about it because they didn’t even realize what they were doing and when they—the times few and far between, though Dad was definitely better than Mom—did realize what they were doing they just thought I should more mature and responsible because Andrew was autistic.

The desk shook as Devyn slammed him hands down. I heard him cuss under his breath. The chair scraped against the tile of the class room floor. “Mrs. Snyder,” he called out over the roar of the class room, “Brigitte needs to go to the nurse’s office,” I peaked out from my arms to see if people were staring. The roar of the classroom had quieted down and I could see people looking back and forth between Devyn, Mrs. Snyder and me. “She has cramps, Mrs. Snyder.” The classroom went dead silent. People were definitely staring. I groaned and tried to curl up further into my seat, hoping that I could just curl myself up in to a ball and dissappear. Maybe people wouldn’t see me, my parents were pretty good at over looking me. I was obviously overlookable.

“Come on,” Devyn grabbed my arm and hoisted me up from the seat. I tripped over my legs but he continued pulling me towards the door. He had picked up my backpack in his other hand and was carrying it like there wasn’t several pounds of books and pens in there.

Once we were outside the classroom he let go of my arm and slowed down his pace.

“What are we doing?” I asked in a whisper. I didn’t want any of the teachers to poke their heads out of the classroom and ask what was going on.

“We’re leaving,” he said briskly.

My mind was having a hard time processing what was going on.

“Are we ditching?”

Devyn looked at me like he was surprised that this was no big deal, then his eyebrows went up. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never ditched before. Aren’t you best friends with Kayla Kerns? She isn’t exactly innocent, I’ve seen her at parties.” I had, in fact, never ditched before. I only missed school for the rare doctor’s appointment and when I was sick. I was really good at forging my mom’s signiture so getting the absence excused was never a problem for me.

I didn’t say anything as we walked out of the school parking lot, but I wondered if we were going to walk to whatever our destination was going to be and if it we were if it was very far away. He walked me to the parking lot in front of the grocery store next to the school and to a beat up car. The paint was peeling off the sides and the front bumber was from another car and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had stollen from another car. “Do you enjoy being boring?

“Just because I’m friends with Kayla doesn’t mean I do everything she does,” I said pitifully. I knew that Kayla was more mature than I was. She had smoked and had had beer, she had her first kiss when she was thirteen. When it came to milestones like that Kayla was ahead of me, but I had never thought it was bad thing until Devyn had called me boring.

Devyn turned the key in the ignition and even over the roar of the engine (I thought he needed tuned or whatever it was that you did to noisy engines) I heard him mumble, “Such a pretty girl.”

I rolled my eyes and sniffled. “So, why are we ditching? There’s only like—” I looked at his dashboard clock but it said it was 5:27, definitely off “—ten minutes left of class,” I estimated.

“Because, I didn’t want to be there,” that wasn’t a surprise, “and because it got you to stop crying. I hate when girls cry.”

“That’s surprising, since you used to make so many of them cry on the playground.” Instead of defending himself he smiled. This distraction had stopped me from crying and for that I was grateful. I shook my head and turned to face the window. It looked like we were going to the outskirts of Denver where it turned from city and suburb to wildlife and small clusters of houses.

word count: 1307

section 14

author's note: here's a thing about writing, sometimes you forget you wrote stuff or planned to write stuff and didn't. then you have to go back and fix these holes. which is all good and well except when you're posting like this. it makes it kind of hard to fix things. if you remember back a few sections Lyle said he would drive Brigitte to group from now on... but that didn't happen last time. oops. this section will fix that. the italic sections are the previous lines before the narrative.

also, I know I said 2500 for this section to make up for missing yesterday, unfortunately my head is about to explode. I don't have school tomorrow though so I shall post twice tomorrow. enjoy!

Even with the ignoring going on I still wasn’t too depressed. I had Wednesday to look forward too. And I had Thursday’s study group with Devyn to look forward to as well.

That night at dinner Andrew was normal. Not like normal-normal, but not-throwing-mashed-potatoes-normal. He sat, he ate, he answered questions to the best of his ability. I liked these kinds of dinners, not the string beans with pork, but when everything was calm. It was like going to a foriegn country and expereincing their culture. I liked these dinners because it was when I was noticed.

“How was school?” Dad asked me.

“School-like. We’re doing this debate project and we each have to take two sides. Our topic is whether legalizing marijauna would have a positive or negative effect on society,” I shurgged. “I took negative and Devyn took positive.” I drew in a deep breath and almost let it out before stopping myself. I thought that perhaps somewhere in my mouth it still smelled like nicotine and that breath might be the tip off to them. So far, they hadn’t noticed anything.

“So that’s who you were with at the library?”

I nodded.

The rest of dinner was silent. It was nice while it lasted. Andrew waved his hand in the sign meaning “all done” and Mom got up with him and directed him in clearing off his plate in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher before sitting back down at the table. “Terrence,” his therapist, “says that we should start having him help around the house. He says it’ll give him something to do and might help with these tantrums,” Mom placed her cloth napikin back in her lap, “Maybe there’s something psychological that needs soothed for him,” she waved her hand absently in the air. To her it meant that she wasn’t sure, to me though it meant that she had no idea what she was talking about. Psychologically soothed? It was Andrew and he was autistic, what exactly needed soothing beyond the neurons going crazy? “Maybe the chores will make him feel more part of this family—” I did chores and I didn’t feel part of the family “—anyway, if you two could just pitch in and walk him through things like dishes and sweeping…” she looked out the window to our backyard, “maybe he can mow the yard.”

“Yes, because Andrew loves loud noises.” Dad had to take him out of the house when Mom vacuumed, there was no way he was going to be able to handle the lawn mower. I had woken up to it at 7 am on Saturday morning plenty of times to know how loud it was.

“Or you can do it,” she suggested.

“I have homework,” I replied. Having homework seemed to cure everything except when she wanted me to help with Andrew, then Andrew took precidence. I picked up my plate and untensils and took them over to the sink, as I cleaned them off I turned towards the table. “So, I’m actually gonna get a ride to group tonight. I know I should have told you earlier, I just got side tracked.”

“With who?” Dad asked putting on the protective Dad costume.

“With Lyle,” I didn’t know his last name, “he lives a few streets over and I’m practically on his way there.”

“Is Lyle a friend?” Dad asked suspiciously. Why was it I could hang out behind the public library, smoke a cigarette and get away with it but when I mentioned riding in a car with a guy I got the ninth degree? It just didn’t compute for me.

“Lyle’s someone in group, Dad. We haven’t added each other on Facebook—”

“What does that mean?” Mom asked. I rolled my eyes at her obliviousness.

“Nothing bad Mom.”

“So you don’t need a ride?” Dad asked, sidetracking me and Mom from an impending dispute.

“Uhm, no. I’ll probably be back around the same time too,” I said while turned around. I wiped my hands with the dish towel on the counter and started walking towards the stairs. I was hoping that just leaving would signal the end of the conversation and they wouldn’t want to ask about why I was showing up almost a good hour after the group meeting got out. No such luck. Dad spoke up, in hard core protective Dad mode.

“Reason?” was all he asked.

“Well,” I drew it out hoping that the few nanoseconds would give me some time to come up with a good lie, but I really had none, “uhm, Lyle and I both like the same yogurt shop—the one you were supposed to take me to,” I gave Dad a pointed look and threw down the guilt trip card on the table, “we stopped there last time and it was good. He paid, so we’re going back tonight to so I can pay him back.” See, parents, you’re raising an honest child… so let her go out. It wasn’t like it was a date. Lyle was a friend, just like Kayla (well, minus the difference in genitalia) was and although the times we went out were few and far between that was mostly their fault for making me take care of Andrew so much.

Speaking of…

“Andrew’s clogging up the toilet again.” I hadn’t said anything, mostly because it amused, but also because I was getting their attention. It was sick.

Tonight was bath night for Andrew and he hated baths. In order to get out of them he would flush the wash rags down the toilet. Of course, wash rags weren’t meant to go down the toilet. It happened at least once a month, the scolding didn’t stop Andrew from doing it again (memory of goldfish?) but the plumbing bills also didn’t stop Mom from, oh I don’t know say, putting the wash rags on a higher shelf so I couldn’t really blame him for not resisting temptation.

Mom made a sound of disgust and shock—really?— and rand off the bathroom.

I looked up at Dad, who looked far older than his actual 42 years. I cut the bolgana. “I’ll be okay, Dad.”

“What kind of projects?” he asked.

I explained a few of them to him quickly, I was sure they weren’t very intresting and that he was just trying to make small talk.

“Gummy worms this time?” Lyle nudged me with his shoulder as he drizzled carmel sauce over his chocolate fro-yo. I tried to hold back a smile but failed, instead I stuck one of the still chewy gummy worms in my mouth and chewed it.

“I’m not adverse to trying new things more than once,” I said with my mouth full.

“It’s not new if you’ve already tried it,” he dolloped a scoop of hot fudge onto my vanilla frozen yogurt. I made a sound of protest but he continued walking down the buffet. Behind the strands of hair blocking his face I could see a smile.

“So,” he asked after I paid for the yogurt and we fell in to the same corner booth as last time, “what do you do in your free time?”

“Uhm,” this wasn’t a question that should have been hard for me to answer, it was pretty straightforward and about as basic as it got, still I stumbled for an answer, “not much. Andrew has a hard time keeping a babysitter so I’m stuck with him a lot—”

“You don’t like you’re brother do you?” he question startled me. I didn’t adore my brother, I didn’t think he was the cutest thing on earth and a majority of the time he irritated the hell out of me… but he wasn’t horrible. He wasn’t a psychopath. I could have been worse off, as brothers went.

“I love my brother,” I answered. I knew that was true.

“That’s not what I asked,” he noticed that I had sidestepped the question and waited for me to answer truthfully.

“I—I—” I lost interest in the yogurt in front of me and set the spoon in the bowl. I bit down on my lips and I felt my throat tighten up, “I— I don’t like that he took the attention away from me.” I held up my hands before he said something. “I don’t mean that in a terribly selfish way… well,” I corrected, “I guess I do. Maybe if I was a better person I could just accept that Andrew requires more attention but for six years I was the center of my parents’ life and then Andrew came along. My parents told me that the baby required more attention and that I was a big girl,” it had been almost ten years but I still remembered the conversation vividly, “but, I didn’t realize that they meant all of the attention. And, I know now that they didn’t know Andrew would require this much attention… but it just hasn’t shifted back in to balance. I love Andrew, I love the way he lines up toy cars along the edge of the carpet and wood floor and how he knows how to push Mom’s buttons just as well as I do. I love how he screams when he goes down the slide, I love how terrified he is of it and yet he goes on it every time we go to the park. I love how he sings Sesame Street songs with his puppets and how he solves puzzles before the contestants on Wheel of Fortune. I love the way he counts his toes every time he takes his shoes off.” I leaned back in the booth, exhausted. “It’s my parents I don’t like,” I realized. “That’s not true,” I quickly corrected again, this train of thought thing wasn’t working out too well, “I don’t like how they handle things. I just wish they could do a better job.”

For the first time I looked up at Lyle. He was staring intently at me, his brown eyes completely focused on me and completely sad. “You don’t think they’re doing the best they can?”

“Their best kind of sucks,” I said honestly. I didn’t doubt that my parents worked hard to keep the family together. The divorce rates among families affected by autism were no secret to me… but it still wasn’t good enough. We might have all lived under the same roof but we were as dysfunctional and screwed up as everyone else.

“I think they’re trying very hard.”

“You don’t even know them. Hell, from what I’ve told you you should be thinking their terrors and calling social services.”

“Every fifteen year old thinks their parents are terrors.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I was angry and I wanted to yell at him, but the public vicinity stopped me from being a totally immature fifteen-year-old. I didn’t need to prove him wrong. “And because you’re sixteen you have all this wisdom?”

He scoffed and looked at me in disbelief. I couldn’t believe I had actually thought he was cool, that he was cute. “No, I think my parents are crazy half the time too. But having Andrew is just as hard on them as it is for you,” it was a suggestion. Something to think about.

I hated admiting it, but maybe he had a point. It had to have been really hard to have six great years with a normal child and then get Andrew. Everything they knew about parenting was probably thrown out the window. Andrew wasn’t parented like I was parented. Things got out of balance with Andrew for everyone. This realization didn’t make up for being ignored and it didn’t make it better or okay and it really didn’t make it understandable but it gave it a reason.

word count: 2,004

total: 17, 475

section 13

author's note: this section contains some telling. telling is a big no-no in the writing business. lemme explain why I used it tho; I wrote this section in tinier sections that were in no way related to each other and before posting I had to connect them together. these bits of telling will be evolved upon, don't worry!

I took the bus home. It meant walking three blocks, but what Devyn had said had struck me. What if my parents did smell the smoke on me? What if I got in trouble? What if Andrew’s allergies acted up and they figured it out that way? I was dreading going home now and hopefully the bus ride and six blocks of walking would help the smell of the smoke drift away. When I reached the front porch though I could still smell it on me and my mouth still felt thick and chalky.

I stood on the cement porch and dug through my bag for mints or lotion or anything I could do to cover up the smell. I could hear Andrew talking with his therapist and Mom was clanging pots and pans around in the kitchen, which meant Dad was probably in his study. Slowly, I twisted the handle and opened up the door. The house was only a few years old so the door didn’t creak when I opened it. I took off my shoes before going in to the house and walked across the wood floor.

“Brigitte?” Mom called out from the kitchen, her head peaked through the archway.

My heart stopped in my chest and I stopped on the stairway and leaned over the banister. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I was at the library—I called.”

“Oh, I know, just wanted to know how your day went.”

I ducked back into the protection of the stairwell and frowned. I smelled like nicotine and now she wanted to bond? Did she already know? Was there some Mom sense that was kicking in? I licked my dry lips and swallowed.

“It was fine Mom, you know school, lunch, friends,” not avoiding peer pressure, “same old, same old.”

“Oh, well that’s good.” Her voice echoed in the kitchen and I could tell she had turned back to do whatever it was that she was doing.

“Uhm, do I have time to take a shower before dinner?” I called out when I was three steps away from the top.

“Yeah, I’m running a little behind today,” she hollered.

“Indoor voices!” Andrew stated.

I sighed and thanked whoever it was that was responsible for letting me get off scott-free, at least so far.

I felt relieved once I turned off the shower. I still had to get the stench out of my mouth, but I was halfway there. I couldn’t believe I had done that, that I had smoked. Sure, smoking wasn’t exactly up there with bungee jumping, but it was dangerous. I knew a headache would probably be coming on soon, I still felt revived though.

I didn’t look too different. Maybe my pupils were dialated. I leaned into the peer and studied my brown rimmed pupils. Yeah, they were defnitely dialated.

Kayla was preoccupied at school for the next few days. All she could talk about was the dance and her dress and her dreamy new boyfriend. I wished them the very best, but I wanted my best friend back. Cody did his best to be enough friend for both of them but it didn’t really matter. Cody wasn’t the same as Kayla.

Even with the ignoring going on I still wasn’t too depressed. I had Wednesday to look forward too. And I had Thursday’s study group with Devyn to look forward to as well.

Tonight, Lyle was wearing paint splattered jeans and his knee was poking out from a hole in the right leg. He was relaxing in the same folding metal chair that he was last time. Dad had dropped me off early so we were the only ones there besides Polly and Carter who were sifting through papers.

“You’re here early,” I commented. Lithely I sat down in the seat next to him but situated the chair so it was tilted towards him but further away. I still wasn’t sure where my feelings stood with Lyle. He was cute, that was for certain, but I just wasn’t sure I liked him liked him. He was someone I could relate to, sure, that was the whole point of this group. But I didn’t want to talk or be with someone I could relate to, I wanted to be with someone who could take me away from what I was dealing with. Someone who wouldn’t be able to comiserate with me or show me sympathy. Someone who would treat me like Brigitte teenage girl and not Brigitte older sister to Mr. Autism.

“I finished tutoring early,” he said casually.

“What are you in tutoring for?”

“Oh, I’m not in tutoring. I tutor the kids at Denver Elementary, the ones with learning disorders. I got involved in it in sixth grade, we had to do a volunteer project. I actually ended up liking it, I get credit for it in my social studies class and it looks great on college applications.”

“Oh,” I said sullenly. It was sweet really, but not something I would ever want to be involved in. I had enough learning difficulties at home with Andrew, I didn’t need to experience anymore when I was at school. “That’s really cool,” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but when we fell in to an awkward silence I realized I failed. “Uhm, so how was your week?” I tried.

“Business as usual,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. Daisy and Jenny walked in to the room, passing a Nintendo 64 back and forth, waving at Polly and Carter without looking up. “Sophie went on some outings with her social group, so the house was pretty quiet.”

“That must have been nice.” Andrew threw tantrums all weekend because Mom forgot to give him his meds on time and he was messed up for the rest of the day.

“Yours?” He pulled out a pack of gum and offered me a stick but I shook my head.

“It was okay… I guess. I have a lot of school projects going on right now and my best friend if kind of ignoring me, she has a new boyfriend. It’s like some disorder or something.” I shurgged and watched as a few more of the kids strolled in.

“What kind of projects?” he asked.

I explained a few of them to him quickly, I was sure they weren’t very intresting and that he was just trying to make small talk.

word count: 1071

section 12 (or the one that needs more research)

Devyn let his board fall down and he skated to the back of the library. I took about thirty minutes and gathered some research and headed to the grassy area behind the library. It was lined in trees, just like the rest of Denver, and had lots of benches and even a barbeque pit. During the summer the place operated like a regular park, but today it was empty.

“Here you go,” I handed him a stack of the opposing argument we were doing. I slumped down on the floor next to him and grabbed a highlighter out of my bag. I started reading, but he just sat there, tapping the papers over a hole in his jeans. Then he began clicking his tongue. “Do you need something?”

He smiled and I thought that perhaps he was trying to be charming or even debonair, but he just came off smarmy. “Do you have a highlighter?” I sighed and tossed him a pink one from my bag. “Pink?” he complained.

“You know what they say about beggars,” I flipped over to the second page of the magazine article I had photocopied.

“That we are all beggars at some time or another?” he suggested.

I frowned, “No, that they can’t be choosers.”

He made an indecipherable noise and went to highlighting the first page. I couldn’t tell if he was actually reading it or just highlighting random sentences.

We spent about twenty minutes highlighting and flipping through papers. I leaned back against the library wall and pushed the papers aside. “I’m taking a break,” I announced.

“Oh thank God,” he tossed his papers aside as well, but about three feet away from them.

“Those are gonna blow away,” I nodded towards the pile.

“You a tree hugger now?” he gripped.

“No, I just don’t want to have to go back in to the library and recopy them. I had to pay for them you know,” I tugged my iPod out of my backpack and plugged the headphones into my ears.

“I’ll pay you back,” he began digging in to his pocket but I could see that it had a whole in the bottom and therefore definitely didn’t have any coins in it.

“It’s not a problem.” I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes, letting the music help me relax.

It didn’t last for long though because after only two songs the distinct smell of cigarette smoke hit me. I huffed in order to try and get him to see how rude he was being. I peeked out of the corner of my eye, he remained where he was and puffed away on the cigarette. I crossed my arms across my chest and started to take shallow breaths, it didn’t help much though.

Kayla said she smoked a cigarette once at a party in eighth grade. She said that she got a distinct feeling of being lightheadedness. She said it was like when she took Valium before the dentist. She had also said that her parents flipped out when they smelled the smoke on her.

“Could I have one?” I asked it before I had even really thought it through. I thought smoking was disgusting, the butts were littered on the ground, the smoke smelled awful and it was quite the money suck. There was also the cancer thing. Even still, I said. I asked it. It was completely unconscious, I wasn’t even sure he meant it. But, when he gave me that look, that nasty smirk/grin thing and held out the already lit cigarette to me I didn’t want to back down.

“Do you even know anyone who smokes?” he asked incredulously. I looked at him. I didn’t know anyone who smoked, besides him. “God,” he shook his head and I imagined that it would have been beautiful had his beanie been gone and his hair been washed, “you’re not who I expected you to be, Brigitte Cooper.”

I rolled the warm cigarette between my index and middle finger, less gracefully than I had seen other smokers do.

“What’d you expect me to be?”

He shook his head, staring off in the distance. “Don’t know…” he turned towards me and leered, “never really thought much about you.” He looked down at the cigarette between my fingers. “You do know you have to put it to your mouth, right?”

I looked back down at the stick, “Yeah, of course.” Gingerly I raised my hand up to my face, the acrid smell of the burning nicotine hit me and made my eyes water. I opened my mouth, mostly in defiance. Once Devyn dropped out of school I’d probably never see him again, but until then I imagined that he would never let me live down this moment if I chickened out and gave the cigarette back to him.

The paper felt warm and dry against my lips and I wanted to pull it away but I resisted the urge.

“There you go,” Devyn said, “just take a small breath.” His voice was so soothing so I followed his directions. Smoke filled my mouth, it felt dry like when they pack it full of cotton swabs at the dentist. I sputtered and coughed, taking the cigarette out of my mouth and throwing it way from me. “Hey!” Devyn scrambled for the still lit bud and saved it. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“Why would I want to?”

Devyn just laughed and shook his head, going back to puffing on the cigarette. I felt defeated and prissy, I stuck my hand back out for the cigarette.

We sat there for a little while longer, he gave me tips and told me what to do. It didn’t really get any better but I didn’t chuck it across the sidewalk this time.

“You’re a pretty girl,” he said after passing me the cigarette.

His comment made me stop and I rested my arms on my knees and let the stick dangle between my two fingers. “No I’m not,” I said sincerly. I didn’t think I was. My hair was average, teetertottering between brown and blonde, closer to brown. My eyes were brown and boring. My cheeks freckeld in the summer and were a burnt rosy color during the winter. I had an average figure and my bra size left me wanting something more.

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, I meant that you don’t want to do something dirty.”

“Like smoking,” I suggested.

“Like hanging out with Devyn Hershboch behind the library.”

“I don’t think you’re dirty.”

“You’re a terrible liar, I hope your parents aren’t home when you get there. You’re gonna reek of cig smoke. I hope I get to see you get your pretty self out of that one.”

“You’re not walking me to the door,” I said defiantly.

He nodded and smiled knowingly and I realized what I had said. He pushed himself up off the ground, grabbed his board and papers.

“See what I mean, pretty girl?” And with that he hopped on to his board and rolled down the small hill towards the sidewalk. I watched him skate away until I couldn’t see him anymore.

word count; 12201

total: 14402

section 11 (or Operation Make Ali Feel Better)

I huffed and rolled my eyes. “Dad was supposed to pick me up. Remember that support group you signed me up for?” I knew I was going to get in trouble for the attitude, but I didn’t care. What was she going to do, ground me? Since Andrew was born my entire life had been lived out like I was grounded. I barely went to friend’s birthday parties, only a few school dances and I was sent to my room at least every other day. I could have been traded with a nanny and they wouldn’t have noticed.

Mom looked startled for a moment before regaining her composure. “I’m sorry. Your brother has a meeting at school coming up, I’ve been a little bit distracted.”

“Yeah, Mom, you’re always a little bit distracted.”

“Brigitte Reed!”

I let my head snap back and I stared at the vent on the cieling. I hated the middle name thing. It meant nothing, it wasn’t like a kind of punishment but what it did do it remind me that I wasn’t special anymore. Andrew had mom’s maiden name as well. I was just Brigitte and I really didn’t matter.

“No, Mom. You are. When was the last time you went to a meeting at school for me? When was the last time you met one of my teachers? Do you even know any of my teacher’s names?”

“Brigitte, you don’t exactly talk to me about school. You don’t talk to me about anything, how am I supposed to know what’s going on with you.”

“You don’t exactly ask,” I rolled my eyes and stalked through the kitchen and up the stairs towards my room. Dad’s door to his study was open, I could see him sprawled out asleep on the couch in there. Freakin’ figures. My eyes and throat felt swollen, I hated when I was about to cry. I walked past Andrew’s door and could hear him jabbering behind the closed door, his light was still on.

I took a deep breath and coughed in an attempt to stop the tears from coming down. It was probably useless. Pretty much against my will I opened the door and went over to Andrew’s bed. “You only get one light on, Andrew.”

“Both lights,” he rocked back and forth on his butt, his feet up in the air. His sheets were thrown around the floor and his pillows were on the foot of his bed. It had been one of those nights.

“No, only one.” I pointed to the three lights he had on and numbered them. “One, two or three Andrew?”

He was only allowed to have his nightlight on at night, not the cieling lamp and desk and nightlight.

“Three,” he said dully. Three was the nightlight. Andrew might have been autistic, but he wasn’t stupid.

I turned off the two other lights, said good night and left.

“Thanks, Brigitte,” Dad said from behind me.

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to talk to him, I had nothing to say. You would think that since being forgotten about was a regular occurence that I would have been used to it, even numb to it. But I wasn’t it. It hurt every single time.

“Whatever.”

I went in to my room and let the door click shut.

I threw my bag in to the corner between the desk and the wall and flung myself on my bed. The springs bounced and poked at me through the sheets. I tucked my head into the cool sheets and covered my head with my arms. Maybe I would fall asleep like this and die due to asphyxiation. It’d serve ‘em right.

There were three heavy knocks on the door though and I turned over to my side. “Yeah?”

Dad peaked his head through the door.

“I’m really sorry about not picking you up tonight.”

“Whatever.”

“Are we really going to do the one syllable conversation?”

Dad hated when I spoke in one word sentences. I shurgged.

“Brigitte, I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you, next time.”

“Whatever,” I said again. “I got home, didn’t I? I got a ride.”

Dad perked up at this and suddenly seemed less remorseful that he had fallen asleep and forgotten about his first-born. “So you made a friend?”

Leave it to a father to hit home my uncertainty over what Lyle was or would be. “I got a ride, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said patently. I got up off my bed and reached over to my dresser and pulled out pajamas. I turned and gave Dad a look that told him to shut the door and leave.

He sighed, but shut the door, obviously unhappy with how things went. He should have thought about that before he forgot about me. I pulled on my pajamas and went to bed without brushing my teeth.

“How was group therapy last night?” Kayla prodded. It was lunch time. South’s lunch was really two periods that stagged each other by a few minutes. Kayla had first lunch, while Cody and I had second.

“It’s not group therapy,” I protested.

“Whatever, AA—Autistics Anonymous,” she flung her hands in the air to emphasize that it wasn’t important.

“It was fine,” I answered, to get her off my back. “I went, I introduced myself.”

“What— my name is Brigitte and I have an autistic brother?” she laughed at her own joke.

I tried to laugh, but only managed a grin. I didn’t find it very funny. “Yeah, basically.” I figured just agreeing with her would make it easier. Maybe she would forget the whole thing. Maybe the bell would just ring and she would go to her next class.

“Weird,” her eyes widened and rolled. “So, what’d you, like, talk about?”

“Just stuff,” I said exasperatedly. “You wouldn’t get it. We just talked about what it was like for us, gave advice, that kind of stuff. It was lame.” I pulled apart my tuna sandwhich and looked at the insides.

“Are you going to go back?” she asked.

I hadn’t looked up at her once but she still hadn’t gotten the hint. “Ugh, I have to, Kayla. My parents are making me go.” I folded one part of the sandwhich in half and started taking small bites of it. Cody was just sitting there. He was more my friend than he was Kayla’s, I think she intimidated him.

“Well, are there at least any cute guys there? I mean, I’m taken. But for you. It might make it worth your while.”

I hadn’t mentioned Lyle to her, and now I didn’t plan to.

“Look, I don’t want to date anyone with some messed up sibling. I don’t need anymore weirdness in my life.”

The bell rang and it ended the conversation. I let out a sigh of relief after we said good-byes and she left.

“So, how was group therapy last night?” Cody asked. There was something different about the way he said it. It was like he actually cared and wasn’t just trying to make fun of it.

I looked up at him and his face showed honest interest in how group went last night.

I shurgged, not wanting to make a big deal about it. “It was fine, I guess.” I pulled out a carrot stick and began to eat it.

“Do you think it’s going to help?”

I leaned back against the bench and let the sun beat down on my face. “I don’t know, Cody. I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m the one that needs help. My parents… my parents just don’t get it,” I looked over at him on the other side of the picnic table. “You know, my dad forgot to pick me up afterwards,” I blinked away the tears again and shook my head. Cody gave me a sympathetic look. “I mean, it’s like they want me to accept Andrew or something. I do, I mean, I get it. I accept it. He’s autistic. What more is there to it? They just don’t get that they have two kids. Two kids that both need attention. And I mean, I guess I can understand that Andrew needs more attention, I’m fine with that. I just hate being forgotten about. It sucks.” Listlessly I chucked the rest of the carrot stick across the outside lunch area. It flew a few yards before hitting a freshman in the back. I ducked my face behind my hand before he turned around.

“Don’t you guys do family therapy?” he took a sip of his water.

“Yeah,” I rested my arms over the table and placed my chin on my hands. “Dad kind of gets it, he’s aware of it. But Mom… she just thinks it’s something I should put up with it because of Andrew. I’m not expecting miracles, just… you know, to be picked up on time.”

Cody smiled sympathetically, except that he would never get it. Cody was an only child. His father was a physicist and his mother was a medical researcher. He was smart and loved by his parents and most importantly cherished by his parents. He grasped my hand from across the table, “Hang in there.”

I appreciated the sentiment, so I smiled back.

Mrs. Snyder assigned group work in sociology after lunch period and I got stuck with Devyn Hershbach, South High’s Sophomore slacker. He was probably just waiting to turn sixteen so he could drop out and be a stoner without school interrupting his smoking schedule. I was sitting in front of the library, waiting for him to show up. Our assignment was to pick a topic and write the two sides of it, it wasn’t exactly difficult but knowing Devyn it probably meant that I would be writing both papers. It was going to suck.

Fifteen minutes after we were supposed to meet he showed up on his skateboard. He rolled up to the where I was sitting, leaning against the wall. He kicked up his skateboard and leaned against the wall, not caring that the board was hitting my knee.

“Hey.” He was wearing those stupid skinny jeans and a ratty black t-shirt that advirtised some band. There were chains hanging off his jeans and I imagined that he had them in his locker during school since they were against the dress code. Had he worked at it, he could have been decent looking. His hair was black and curly, but it was also greasy and mostly hidden behind a stupid beanie when he wasn’t at school. His eyes were a pretty shade of haze and his facial features weren’t disfiguring.

“You’re late,” I commented. I pulled myself up so I could gain some higher ground, but he was still over a head taller than me.

“Sorry, I got caught up,” he smirked.

I shook my head and started towards the library door. “Probably hooking up with someone,” I mumbled.

“Jealous?” He was still standing by the wall.

“What’s there to be jealous of?”

“You’d be surprised,” he said smoothly.

I ground my teeth together to stop myself from saying anything else. Devyn loved being provoked. “Are you coming in or not? This is where the computers are,” I wasn’t going to get started on that this was also where the books were. Devyn probably hadn’t cracked a book since the last time he burned one.

“Yeah, I can’t actually go in there,” he said slowly. I tilted my head, confused. “They caught me smoking in the bathroom over the summer,” he explained while picking at his fingernails. The bottoms were black, I couldn’t tell if it was Sharpie or some sort of nutrition deficiency.

“That’s not terrible. They shouldn’t have banned you for that.”

“Well,” he grinned, “the smoke set the fire extinguishers off and ruined some books and all the computers.”

My jaw dropped. “That was you?” I remembered how over the summer the library had done extensive fundraising in order to get new computers and replace some books after some moron set off the sprinklers. I hadn’t realized that they were set off by some moron that went to my school.

“Yeah, so you can see why they don’t want me to go in there.”

I crossed my arms across my chest, “So, how are we supposed to do this project? I don’t care what other people have done for you but I’m not doing this whole thing by myself.”

He edged closer to me. “You have guts, I like that in a girl.” I tried to control my gag reflex. I could smell the nicotine floating off of him, the generic deodorant, sweat and a soft whisper of laundry detergent. His family used All. When I didn’t respond to his jibe he went on. “I was thinking you could just pick a topic, print up some information, grab some books, whatever it is that you good kids do for research and meet me behind the library. You don’t seem to put up with shit, I respect that and I’ll do my part. Just don’t expect graduate material.”

I sneered, “I never did.”

word count: 2,201