|You Still Didn't Leave
Author: Striped Leopard PM
Everyone's got problems. Take me for example. I'm not over my father's death, my mom wants me to be skinnier, I can't bring myself to eat, and my best friend Don is acting really weird. I'm amazed that I have any sanity left. And he still didn't leave me.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Chapters: 15 - Words: 42,270 - Reviews: 186 - Favs: 81 - Follows: 22 - Updated: 01-23-07 - Published: 07-12-06 - Status: Complete - id: 2210216
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
This is not my first story. I was just sitting, listening to my little sister's CD, because she wouldn't turn it down when BOOM! This story pops into my head. Well, the beginning of it anyway. The rest of it was taken from parts of my life that I took to the absolute extreme.The story I was writing before wasn't getting many reviews, and it made me feel sad. So if you guys could tell me what you really think of this, I'd be grateful. I know this isn't very good, but it was in my head, and I had to get it down. If you guys hate it, let me know.
Hi. My name is Robin Green. Colorful name, isn't it? Just so. . . Perky. So unlike me. You'd probably expect a person named Robin to be beautiful, with soft, wavy, or even curly brown hair, a perfect complexion and a perky personality. Someone with dates every Friday and Saturday night.
Well, I'm going to tell you here and now that I'm not. I am not perky in the least bit, and are in no way beautiful. I come from a mixed European descent, German, Polish. Scottish, Irish, French, and according to my Great-aunt Myrtle, A few members of the Onida tribe. And yes, I actually have a Great-aunt Myrtle. Funny, no? I thought so, when my mom told me. Of course, I was six, so someone named Myrtle was bound to amuse me.
Okay, so now you know who I am. Now here's the part where I tell you all about my best friends, who have been with me through thick and thin since kindergarten. There's just one problem here. I don't have any. I've only got a couple people I can really call friends. Sure, I've got people I know and talk to, but most of them are just acquaintances.
I'm nothing special. I've got brown hair that is just sort of there. It hangs. My brown eyes are hidden behind glasses so thick that If I held them over an ant, it would be a pile of ashes within a few seconds. (Probably not, but you get the idea). I've worn glasses since I was in first grade, and now I'm a senior in high school. Long time, no? Anyway, I saw no reason any guy would ever like me as more than a friend. I have always been "one of the guys." I've never had a serious boyfriend (James doesn't count, we went out for two months in the seventh grade because he wouldn't leave me alone. He was borderline stalker-ish. Kind of scary? I thought so) and it's made me kind of depressed. Not that anyone notices it anyway. No one notices anything about me. No one ever really has.
The second half of my junior year changed that thought. In fact, it blew it clean out of the water. KABOOM!
Here's my story.
I guess I can start from the day after winter break. I'd just gotten back from visiting my grandparents, (a fun trip. Note the sarcasm) and was not looking forward to going back to school. Well, in a way I was. I'd get to see my friends, whom I hadn't seen since the day we left. I rolled out of bed (literally) and stumbled into the shower. I left the light off, so it didn't burn my eyes out, and showered in the dark, like I do every morning.
Okay, now I just know that some of you are sitting there going "you shower in the dark?!" And yes I do. We have a rather bright night light in the bathroom because my little sister is afraid of the dark. We've got night lights in almost every room. And I shouldn't complain, I'm afraid of the dark too. And heights. And spiders. And insects. Fun, right?
Okay, so I was showering in the dark when my older brother, Brendan banged on the door to the bathroom. "Robin!"
"What?!" I yelled back, grimacing at the reverberation of my voice in the small bathroom. I'd just gotten into the shower, and it was six o'clock in the morning. My brother was three years older than myself, and was in the second semester of his sophomore year at college. He didn't even start for another week! Why was he up this early in the morning? My answer came in the next few seconds.
"Mom's calling for you!" I groaned.
"I'm in the shower!"
"It's about Uncle Henry!" I froze, my hair filled with shampoo suds, which were dripping painfully into my eyes, causing them to tear.
"He's in the hospital. Aunt Janet called a couple minutes ago." Aunt Janet was my mother's sister, Uncle Henry, her husband.
"When is she going out?" I asked.
"What? I can't hear you!" I shrieked as the door opened. "What?" I pulled the thick, white shower curtain away from the wall and poked my head around it. My brother was standing in the doorway, the door partially open.
"When is she flying out?"
"She doesn't know. She just wants you to hurry up and get out. I'll drive you to school after she talks to us."
"What happened to Uncle Henry?" I asked.
"I don't know. She wants to tell us both at the same time, so hurry up."
"What about Melinda?" I asked. naming my little sister.
"I don't know, just hurry up and get out. And why are you showering in the dark?" He flipped on the light, and I slipped in tub, squeezing my eyes shut as I fell.
"What?" He asked, obviously not seeing a problem with the light. He was such a morning person.
"Shut it off!"
"Shut what off?" Okay, now he knew what she was talking about, he was just annoying her.
"Oh. SoRry." He said, and shut it off. I nursed my throbbing head, hoping I hadn't given myself a concussion. Or rather than my brother hadn't given me a concussion. It was all his fault if my brain began to bleed and I died. I rinsed off my hair and hopped out.
When I got downstairs, I found my brother sitting in his chair at the table, and my mother at her place, her head down. She looked like she'd been crying. Her hazel eyes were all red and puffy, since she'd been crying. I eyed her, and grabbed a piece of bread, sitting down in my own seat at the table. I heard the small, muffled sound of feet on the stairs, and my nine year old sister poked her head over the railing.
"Mommy? What's going on?" My little sister, Melinda asked. I was glad it was dark, so Melinda couldn't see my mom's face from the stairs.
"Linda, go back to bed." My mom said. "It's still early." The little blonde head disappeared, and I heard the feet go back up the stairs and into her room. My mom looked to me.
"She's back in her room." I said, and my mom nodded.
"Good." I bit into the piece of bread, watching my mom expectantly. She stayed silent for a long time. I glanced at the clock. I was going to miss the bus. But it didn't matter, Brendan said that he'd drive me to school.
"Mom? She's going to be late." My brother pointed out. My mom nodded.
"Your Uncle. . . He had a heart attack around midnight last night." I froze, the piece of bread halfway to my mouth again.
"Is he okay?" My brother asked. I just sat there, dumbstruck.
"He's been stabilized, but Janet's not doing so well, mentally." I nodded. "When are you flying out?" While we lived in New York, my grandparents and the rest of my extended family lived in the Midwest. It had been hard on my mom, but we'd managed. The worst had been when my dad died, three years ago in a car accident. Drunk teenage driver. Typical story. I myself was glad that the driver had died, because if he hadn't, my brother would have killed him. Sometimes I worried about my brother, he had some pretty violent mood swings. He'd also threatened any future boyfriends' lives a couple weeks ago, and gave me an odd look when I told him that I didn't have a boyfriend. Pardon me, a disbelieving look. Then he tried to get me to tell him the name of my nonexistent boyfriend.
Okay, now I'm rambling.
"If he's not better, I'm going to fly out Wednesday evening." She replied, and shook her head. I put down the piece of bread, which I'd taken three bites out of, suddenly not hungry anymore. "Rob, you'd better hurry up and get to school."
How did she expect me to pay attention to anything today? I'd just been told that my Uncle was in the hospital because he had a heart attack, and I was supposed to pay attention in any of my classes?
My mind was racing, even as I walked into school the next morning. "Robin!" I heard someone call, but the fact that it was my name didn't fully process. "Rob!" I kept walking. "Robin!" Someone grabbed my arm, making me stop dead in my tracks. I turned, blinking stupidly at the shorter person next to me.
"Are you okay Robin?" She asked, sweeping her brown hair over her shoulder. I shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess." I replied, eyeing her. She was dressed immaculately, per usual. She was Kelly. And Kelly was never under, or over dressed. Today she was wearing an oversized pink sweater and skintight black jeans over black stiletto ankle boots. And she was already a giant at about 5"8' in flats. She eyed me.
"Your outfit says otherwise." I glanced down at myself and raised an eyebrow when I looked back up.
"You're wearing baggy black pants, and a low cut black shirt." She said, pointing at each article of clothing. "Plus, you're not wearing any of your pretty little earrings, or your necklace. And you always wear that necklace. Something's wrong."
Leave it to Kelly to realize something's wrong through fashion.
"I'm fine." I insisted, but she continued to glare at me accusingly. "Really Kelly. I'm fine."
"Who's fine?" I turned, and groaned. Carrie Lynn, one of my few close friends popped up at my shoulder.
"I am, but Robin's not." I rolled my eyes. Carrie may have been my close friend, but she could be a bit too nosy for her own good. Which was why the 'popular' girls snubbed her. Which I thought was a bit ironic, since the 'popular' girls were the most nosy people in the school. Carrie swept a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, her icy blue eyes sweeping over my form, and rested on my bare neck.
"No you're not." I mentally groaned, and sighed. Why was everyone against me? Seriously. Why? "Where's your necklace?"
Let me take a moment and describe this necklace that keeps popping up in the conversation. It's my favorite necklace, and I wear it everyday. My dad bought it for me the week before the car crash. The chain was black silver, (don't ask how they got silver to be black, and it's not painted, because I don't know) and had two black silver dolphins jumping over/around a sapphire blue bead. It was pretty, and I'd never seen anything like it. My father saw it in a shop and immediately bought it for me, because he knew I loved dolphins. And black went with everything, according to him.
"I forgot to put it on this morning." I insisted, ignoring the two annoyed looks I was getting from the two girls.
"Really? I thought you slept with it on." I raised an eyebrow at Carrie, and she grinned at me. I shot her one of my best you'll-pay-for-that-later looks and turned to Kelly.
"I took it off to shower this morning, and got distracted." I said. Kelly raised an eyebrow at me, and I sighed.
"My mom had to talk with my brother and I about something." Kelly opened her mouth, presumably to ask me what my mom wanted to talk about, but thankfully I was saved, literally by the bell.
"I'll talk to you guys later, I've got to run!" I called over my shoulder as I took off down the hall. "Bye!" I slowed as I rounded the corner, not really wanting to be early to my first period class. Chemistry was not exactly my favorite subject, and the teacher only made it worse. He was so boring, and tended to go off on tangents in the middle of class. And normally I don't mind tangents, but his tangents were so boring that they just made everyone want to fall asleep. During our lab time, I could hear whispered conversations about different ways to get rid of him, ranging from taking out the teacher to faking their own death in the middle of class. I was leaning more towards the first option. I didn't want to fake my own death, because then I'd have to go through the whole process of changing my name, and making my death look believable. And I didn't really care to change my life just because of a stupid chem.. teacher. Besides, covering up a killing would be so much easier. Just hide the body where no one would find it. Maybe bury it in the nearby beach. . . Yes, I have actually thought about it many times during his boring lectures. Anyone else see yet another reason I don't have that many friends?
Unluckily for me, I had forgotten that Carrie was my lab partner, at least momentarily. I forgot that, until she plopped down next to me, dropping her bag on the floor.
"Rob, what's wrong?" I clenched my jaw, and stared intently at the black stone table top. Maybe if I stared hard enough it would burst into flames. That would be cool. Not only would something be on fire, we'd probably get out of class. "Hey, girl wonder!" I glared at my friend. She knew I didn't like that name. She was grinning. But she knew it would get my attention. Which it did.
"Rob, it's not nothing. One, as much as I hate to admit it, Kelly's right. You're outfit is screaming 'I'm depressed.' Two, you're not wearing your necklace. You always wear it, and I haven't seen you without it for three years." I sighed, resting my chin in my right hand, and drumming the fingers of my left on the desk. My black nails made a nice clicking sound on the desk as Carrie continued to try to get me to talk about it.
"Carrie, would you leave it alone? It's not a big deal."
"If you're not telling me, it's got to be a big deal. How would you handle me in this situation?" I raised an eyebrow at her, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear. She was right, damn her. I would try to get her to spill the beans, but I probably wouldn't have to. Carrie was a very open person. If she kept something from you it was with good reason. Usually it was something that would hurt your feelings. That was one of the reasons I liked her. The final bell rang just as a boy slipped through the door, just making it through before our teacher, Mr. Moss closed it.
Mr. Moss was our chem. teacher. I would have thought with a name like Moss, he would have been better suited for biology. But no, he had to be a high school chemistry teacher, and torment us all.
The boy who'd slipped through the door dropped his bag next at the table next to mine and flashed Carrie and I a grin. "Hey guys."
"Mr. Clarkson!" The boy looked back up at the room. "It's bad enough that you were late-"
"Almost late. I was here exactly on time Mr. Moss." The boy corrected, grinning at us again.
"Fine. It's bad enough you were almost late, I don't need you flirting in class too."
The boy feigned a horrified look. "Me? Flirting? With Carrie and Robin? Never."
"Don't get fresh with me young man." He warned, picking up his chalk. "Now, everyone open your notes." As Moss turned, and began writing on the board again, the boy leaned over to Carrie and I.
"You okay Rob?" He asked in a whisper. I glared at him.
"Why is everyone asking me that?" I whispered back. He shrugged, pointing his pencil at my neck.
"You're not wearing your necklace." I rolled my eyes as Mr. Moss cleared his throat.
"Donald!" The boy flinched at the use of his first name. I made a face at him as he straightened up in his seat.
"Yes Mr. Moss?"
"What did I just say about talking with Miss Green?"
"You didn't say anything about not talking sir. You said no flirting. I wasn't flirting. I was asking her if she had a pencil."
"But you already have a pencil."
"I know sir."
"Then why were you asking Miss Green for one?"
"Because she doesn't have one in her hand." He explained slowly, as though talking with a child. I smirked, looking down at my notebook. Donald Clarkson was probably going to get sent to the principal's office, again. It wasn't like he intentionally tried to piss Mr. Moss off. Even when he did absolutely nothing, Mr. Moss found an excuse to pick on Don. Whether it was about his clothes, which in no way violated the dress code, as Mr. Moss consistently insisted, or his attitude, which had no problem when he wasn't trying to get Moss mad. So, instead Don had decided to earn his trips to the principal's office first period. I glanced up at the clock. Five minutes. This could be a new record. The shortest time he'd ever been in class before getting sent to the principal's this year had been fifteen minutes. He'd thrown an eraser at my head. Not cool. Trying to get chalk dust out of brown hair was not fun. I'd made sure Don got an earful out of that one. Especially since I'd gotten sent to the principal's too that day. I just hoped he wouldn't use me in today's escapade. That would just make my day that much worse.
Unfortunately, as luck would have it, Mr. Moss had already made that decision for me. "Mr. Clarkson, leave Miss Green alone, and pay attention!"
"But I don't have a pencil." Great. I just had to open my mouth, didn't I? I did have a pen in my bag though. Don shot me a look, and smirked. I'd sworn to him the other day that's I'd have no part in ticking Moss off again. Obviously, he remembered that conversation. I swore under my breath and turned back to look at Moss. His face had a slight pink tinge to it, and I could see he was fighting for control.
"Then would you get one and pay attention?" He spat at me. I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as I over dramatically accepted a pencil from Don. A couple people behind us snickered. When Mr. Moss turned back to us, I quickly bent over my notes and began to scribbled something down furiously. When I looked back up, he was standing to the side of the board, watching me, and. . . Smirking? Why was he smirking at me?
"Miss Green? If you wouldn't mind balancing this equation?" I scanned it quickly, and felt the blood drain from my face. The molecular equation took up almost the entire board. I swallowed, and looked down at my paper.
I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem..
I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem..
I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem.. I hate chem..
That's all that was written down on my paper. I sighed.
"Miss Green? Why don't you come up to the board and solve it?" Right then, I realized what I should have written on my paper.
I hate Moss.
I got to my feet, walking to the front of the room on autopilot. I ignored the chalk in Mr. Moss's outstretched hand and grabbed some off of the sill in front of the board. Mainly because it wasn't white, and hadn't been touched by Mr. Moss. I touched the chalk to board, solving the equation in my head as I wrote it out as fast as if I had already solved it. When I'd finished, I turned to Mr. Moss, and bit back a grin. If he was trying to impersonate a tomato, he was very successful. I knew that this was one of the reasons Mr. Moss hated. Even if I was caught daydreaming in class, I was always able to answer the question right. It confused the hell out of everyone I knew, including myself. I just kind of absorbed information like a sponge and retained it. Somehow. But how that was I had no idea.
"Thank you Miss Green." He said through clenched teeth. I gave him a fake smile, and headed back to my seat. "Did I say you were done?" I froze, mid stride. "Come back up here." I closed my eyes, opening them again halfway through my turn. I caught sight of Don's face, and mentally grimaced. If there was one thing I could say about Don, he was a loyal friend. He looked like he was already planning something to do to Mr. Moss. I shook my head just enough for him to see. He frowned at me, and glanced over at Carrie. She shook her head too, and he slumped back in his seat, defeated. I stopped in front of the chalkboard and stared evenly at Mr. Moss.
"Could you right out the reaction that takes place when you combing sulfuric acid and hydrochloric acid?"
"I didn't hear a please!" Someone called out from the class, but when Moss and I looked out over the students, no one looked conspicuous. Don was still sitting in his seat, glaring at me, still looking defeated. But there was a glint in his eyes that told me he was the one who'd said it.
"Mr. Clarkson, please refrain from interrupting my class." Don looked up, his face a picture of innocence.
"What? What'd I do?" He asked.
"I know that little comment came from you."
"What comment?" Mr. Moss rolled his eyes.
"Miss Green, the equation." I shifted my weight from my right to my left foot.
"Um. . ."
"Don't you know it?" He asked, smirking. "We did learn it in class last week. On Tuesday?" I rubbed the back of my neck. Had we?
"Mr. Moss!" Carrie's pale hand shot up in the air. My eyes snapped to her immediately. Was I about to be saved?
Moss sighed in annoyance. He hated it when other student interrupted his torture sessions. "Yes Miss Lynn?"
"Robin wasn't here on Tuesday last week." She pointed out. I racked my brain, a small smile twitching at my lips. She was right. My little sister'd had the flu last week, and I'd been home with her on Tuesday and Thursday. My brother had class on those days, and couldn't stay with her, and neither could my mom get off of work.
"Or on Thursday!" She added brightly. Mr. Moss eyed her, then turned to me.
"Well, that's not really an acceptable excuse. You should have gotten the work from someone." I bit my lip, and closed my eyes, turning to the board. Sulfuric acid? I opened my eyes and wrote out the sequence, then added the sequence for hydrochloric acid. I bit my lip, and wrote out what I thought the other side should be. After that I turned and looked expectantly at Mr. Moss, who had turned the loveliest shade of purple.
"Correct." He said, grinding his teeth. I bit back a victory cry and dashed back to my seat before he could ask me to do something else. I slid into my seat, and got a smirk from Don.
"Nice one." I shrugged and waited for the end of the period.