Chapter 1
I woke up at 5:30. My mom was banging on the door, screaming at me to get up and make breakfast. Breakfast, that was my job, along with making my own lunch and dinner. Lunch on the weekends if I was home, I wasn't usually. I did the chores in my house, if you would call it a house. I'd like to say I lived in a house, a duplex or an apartment, even. It would be better then what I've got. But I live in a trailer. Not a nice mobile home. I live in a run down old trailer. The worst one in the lot.
At night, some kids fall asleep to nothing; some fall asleep to CD players or sound machines. Not me, I fall asleep to screeching tires and occasional gunshots. My mom could never afford me a CD player, let alone a house big enough for the two of us. I have to say she's not a completely terrible mother, she does work two jobs just to afford food, but she never tries to get a real job, one that could afford a house. A job that could buy me nice clothes. One that could give us the life we need. Maybe she could have afforded them, maybe she just doesn't want to.
We live in the bad part of Natsar, a city in southern California. Luckily we live on the outskirts of the city. Which means I don't go to Natsar High School. The kids from the trailer park and the apartment buildings close by go to Cleveland Liberty High in Passuay, the town next to Natsar. It's a nicer school and there aren't nearly half as many drug problems as there are at Natsar High, but I go to school with rich town kids. Kids with big houses and expensive cars. Kids who live by their social status. I'm at the bottom of the social ladder, I mean, who wants to be seen talking to the trailer trash of the school?
That's me, Trailer Trash. I don't think many kids in my school know my real name. My name is Heather, Heather Jane Hadelbro. I'm 16 years old; 5'7" with bright green eyes and brown hair down to the middle of my back. I don't have many very close friends, but I know the friends I do have wont let me down. I have more guy friends then girl friends, believe it or not. Because of this I get labeled. Class whore, school slut, I've been called all of these. Middle school years were the hardest years of my life. I cried more then than I ever had in my life. But over the years I've learned how to get over what people say about me. I've learned words can mean nothing. Words from the jocks and popular girls mean nothing to me. They mean nothing to me.
"Heather!! Get up!" My mother continued yelling.
I guess you might be wondering why I haven't said anything about my dad. I don't have one. My mom is only 32. That might give you a hint of where my dad might be. He was a senior and she was a sophomore, like I am now. She would freak out if she met some of my guy friends. If I ever got a boyfriend I'd never hear the end of her ranting, she'd scream about how all of them are just like my dad. So you can probably predict the number one rule at home is no boyfriends until I move out.
"Heather!!" She yelled again.
"I'm UP!"
"Hurry! You're going to be late!"
"I'm GOING!" I yelled back at her. She would never let up on me. I pulled myself out of bed and walked into the kitchen. I turned the stove on and cracked open two eggs. Scrambled, that's how my mom liked them. I let them cook for a moment while I got a plate a fork and a glass. I put two pieces of toast in the toaster and poured a glass of orange juice. I put the food on a plate and set it along with everything else on the table. I got butter and a knife and set them down.
"Mom breakfast is ready!" I called.
"Thank you honey," She replied, walking into the kitchen area, buttoning up her shirt and brushing her hair as she sat down. "Are you going to eat anything?"
"I'll grab a bagel before I leave," I lied. It was so easy to lie to her. After all, she lied to me all the time.
I walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess, I had dark circles under my eyes, I didn't fall asleep until past 2:00 AM. I quickly undressed and showered, using cold water. The heater broke a few months ago and mom couldn't afford to fix or replace it. Needless to say my shower was only as long as it took to wash and condition my hair. I turned off the water and got out of my shower. I took a warm towel and wrapped it around myself and shivered. My hair hung over my face as I dried off and pulled clean clothes on. I towel dried my hair and then blow-dried it. My hair was always so tangled after I showered, brushing it made my eyes water in pain.
"I'll be home at 9:30! Don't forget your lunch!" My mom called, running out the door. I looked out the window and saw her running to the car. She was late. I wondered how long it would take her to get fired from this job. She was a secretary at an insurance agency that was an hour and a half away. She would work there until 4:00 then she would drive an hour to her second job, a lawyer's assistant, until 9:00. They weren't good jobs at all. She was still on trial for both of them, so if she got fired, she didn't have two more weeks to work and get paid. She never met any of my friends; even if she had time I wouldn't let her. She was a very strange person.
I don't wonder how I ever got here, me being 16 and her only 32. I doubt she's changed at all sense then. Watching her out the window I saw her getting in the car in her short black shirt, a white blouse and a black bra underneath it which was plainly visible. She walked around in six-inch high heels and lightly tanned nylons.
Now that I think of it, with her holding two jobs we could have been all right, but the only sensible thing she ever bought was food. She spent the rest of her money on dyeing her hair and getting manicures. She was selfish. I shouldn't have done as much for her as I did. You must think I'm a terrible person but it's true. I cooked for her, I cleaned for her, I did the shopping for her. She never even said thank you.
I watched the car drive away. I turned to the mirror and looked at myself again. I smoothed cover up over the circles under my eyes and applied the rest of my make up. I was content with the way I looked. My hair was smooth and soft after I brushed it out a few times. I had surprisingly straight, white teeth, considering I had never had braces or retainers. That was a good thing, if I had crooked teeth, I would always have crooked teeth. My mom would never pay thousands of dollars for something like my teeth, I mean, she wouldn't even pay 20 dollars for a haircut. My girl friends have always told me I have nice full lips and pretty eyes. All that my guy friends told me was that I kind of looked like Shannon Elizabeth. No one ever mentioned about how skinny I was, and I was glad.
I walked into my room and looked at myself in my full-length mirror. The mirror itself wasn't pretty. It was cracked along the side and the gold paint trim around it was peeling. Chunks of wood had rotted out before we bought it at a yard sale. I looked at myself in the mirror. Although I didn't care what people thought about the way I looked, I cared. I wanted to look nice, just for myself. My black tank top was tight and slightly wrinkled I couldn't fix that. My mom had broken the iron earlier that week, and she hadn't gotten paid yet so she hadn't bought a new one. My blue jeans were a little big so I used an old belt to hold them up. I liked the jeans, they used to fit perfectly, but I had lost weight so they weren't the best any more. Despite everything in my life, I actually liked myself. I guess it's more then what some people say. I don't always like my life, but I never hate myself.