Breaking the Sidewalk

"Go on! Take it!"

I hesitated before reaching out and warily grabbing the cigarette from Cody Colltempt's hand. He smirked before taking a lighter from his back pocket. With one swift move, he lit my cigarette and stuffed the light in the back pocket of his jeans. He looked at me with expectant eyes. I swallowed the lump in my throat before bringing the cigg to my mouth. After a few quick glances, I took a huge drag from the cigarette causing me to cough like I was just caught in the biggest cloud of smoke.

I threw the cigarette down and bent over, coughing towards the ground. Cody laughed loudly, an action that made the others chuckle as well. I managed to crack an embarrassed smile between coughs. Cody put his hand on my shoulder, and grinned.

"Hey, don't worry kid. Everyone pretty much hacks on their first try. You'll get the hang of it. Hell, it took T.J. a few weeks just to get it right." With that everyone laughed, leaving me with a severely confused look. "Anyways," he continued, "come here tomorrow and we'll show you how to do it right. We might just show you something else too." He looked back at his gang. "Right guys?" A murmur of mixed replies, and I felt a little better. But my lungs were on fire, so I still coughed until my lungs grew sore. I'm such a dork!

After a few more trials on the smoke, I awkwardly said good-bye with a wave, and soon I was out on the street and away from the dirty alley.

I sighed, thankful they didn't trick me, and beat me up, or whatever they do to people like me. Besides, I have nothing to take. The most they could take from me were the worn out sneakers I've had for two straight years. I doubt they could find any value in that.

Sirens wailed in the distance as I took slow, lingering steps towards my house. I didn't want to go back, but I knew my mom would probably call the police or something if I didn't return. She's pretty weird like that. The only reason she probably worries is because my older brother has to remind her that she has another child.

I kicked a small rock out of boredom and gave a small cough, my throat feeling like burning ice. When I rounded a corner, just my luck, I ran smack into some idiot who didn't look where he was going. We both doubled over and feel on the cracked sidewalk with a loud thud. I took a few deep breaths and let out an agitated sigh. I opened my eyes to a guy sprawled on the sidewalk. He groaned and clutched a black bag in his right hand. He was young, not much older than me, I guess. Teenage age. He wore black pants and a shirt, and even his hair was black. But he opened his eyes to reveal deep green-greyish eyes. It gave me chills. They were like a cat's eyes.

Shouts and yells came from behind him, and I heard him curse. He took a short glimpse at me, got up, and began to run in the direction from where I came. Several cops ran past the corner, and I just sat there. A few idiots tripped over me, and one policeman on the hefty side stopped by me. He bent over and put his hands on his thighs. He gasped for air, and with a jump realized I was sitting on the sidewalk beside him. Several police cars sped down the street as he eyes me cautiously, his pink checks puffing in and out as he struggled for breath.

A police car parked sharply by the sidewalk. The passenger door opened and a voice angrily shouted, "Get in, idiot! You don't have time to stop for air! C'mon, he's getting away!" The fat policeman glared at me, while getting in the car. He eyed me driving away, but I didn't think anything of it.

Once they drove off, their sirens mingled with the other cars chasing the man. Everyone left, leaving me on the sidewalk with a confused look on my face. I just smack into a criminal, and I didn't get shot! I jumped up and felt my whole body for holes or stabs I might've missed. With a grin, I stood up and wiped the street dust off myself.

I looked down at my feet and groaned. I had just washed them, and now they were scuffy dirty. Something beside my shoes created a glare off the old streetlight. I picked the small piece up, and to my amazement, it was a small silverish coin, with tiny writing on it. My eyes widened in amazement as I though of the thief who probably dropped this. Then out of idiocy, I chuckled at the though of believing something so dumb. So instead, I stuffed it in my pocket, and in a daze walked home.

¤¤¤

I walked quietly up the few steps to our porch, hesitating as under the dimness of the porch light. All the lights were off and I hoped to God that they were asleep. As silently as I could, I creaked open the door, and slipped in. With a sigh, I made my way to the stairs, not needing the faint light of our living room lamp to guide me. Suddenly, something caught my ear in a tight grip. I cried out, only to have my mouth covered by a large hand. The hot stench of beer hit my olfactory smack in the face.

"Comin' home late, eh? What'd ja' think? Could get away with stayin' out late, and not even think of your old man!" He shook my collar angrily with a low growl. "Know the time boy? Two o' fucking clock, that's what! Once I'm done with you, you're gonna wish that you never come home a second late again…"

This is supposedly my father. You could call him that, but you'd be dead wrong. A father is a man who protects for his children, and treats them with care and love. Someone who watches your baseball practice and tells you to mow the lawn. You could call him my father, but somehow there's a lot missing in that picture. Thanks to my new curfew, I was going through hell again the third time this week—only this time, I wasn't just getting a beating.

He wrapped a meaty arm around me and picked me up off the ground. I struggled against his arm as he carried me upstairs, digging my fingernails into his skin as hard as I could. My anger rose as I felt tears swimming in my eyes. I felt stupid for crying and bit my tongue to stop; I tasted blood in my mouth.

As we walked upstairs my father brought a knuckle down to my temple to shut me up as we passed my mother's room. I could have done that myself. Now I was blinking against the heavy dark, my head exploding into a stead throb that ached more and more with each second. My mouth tasted dry against the rusty taste of the blood.

We entered the guest room, and he heaved me onto the bed as he locked the door behind him. I laid there dazed, the pain in my head beating against the world like a heavy drum. As I looked up, I saw him staring at me. I sat up quickly and almost threw myself against the headboard. He fumbled with his jeans, taking off his belt and motioning to me.

"Get yer fucking ass over here."

I swallowed hard, with no saliva to wash it down. I shook my head at him, and then stopped because my head exploded with the pain behind my eyes. It took some seconds to recover my vision. His eyebrows furrowed and he snarled.

"Fucking dipshit."

He reached over in one wide motion and lashed out, grabbing my wrist with a sharp twist. I gave a shout as he tugged. I crawled toward him awkwardly, pressing my teeth down on my tongue again.

As I reached him, he yanked me off the bed and forced me to stand. He slapped me hard and my head flew back involuntarily. He ignored me stomped over to the dresser and opened a small drawer. He fumbled inside and grabbed out the large roll of duct tape. He let me go, knowing I wouldn't try to run away. The fear ran through my veins like a river. My hands were sweaty and my heart beat against my chest as if it wanted to escape.

I stood there as he plastered my mouth with duct tape, getting my hair and everything in the way. When he was done I reached out with a shaky hand and felt myself. Gagged, completely.

With a hard shove to my chest I fell to the floor, clutching myself. I cried out into the tape as my head banged against the floor. My eyes shut themselves. The back of my head pounded against my brain, hard and fast, almost angry. I don't have time to think about it when I feel the sting of the first whip against my skin.

I tried not to cry, I tried to be strong, but the pain hurt so much I couldn't ignore so in the end I let the tears flow down my face. I knew I shouldn't cry anyways because it becomes harder to breath. This is a bad thing considering I could only breathe through my nose. It is also a bad thing because I've showed weakness to him.

He ignores my whines and cracks his belt against me again and again. The snot in my nose bubbles up, and I try to snort it down again. Breathing is hard and hard and I have to stop crying but I can't. All I can do is snort in while the pains on my skin become sharper and clearer.

I tell myself sometimes that in the morning I won't even remember what it felt like.

¤¤¤

I woke up slowly to the light from the window and instinctively looked around the room. I was on the floor of the guest bedroom. I ripped the tape off my mouth and took a great gasp of air, thankful, and yet disappointed, I was still alive. I looked down at myself to notice my clothes and hair were a mess. I sat up, only too sharply. I gasped at the pain. I got up extremely slow, fearful of hurting myself even more. I clenched my jaw, and stood up. The dim blinking light on the clock said 6:23. I rubbed my eye with a hand and slowly made my way down the hall to the bathroom, hoping my dad didn't plan any more surprises.

I splashed cold water on my face to wake myself up, used the bathroom, and skipped the shower. I dully looked at myself in the mirror. I'm not particularly handsome. I have semi-long, light brown hair, and pale blue eyes. I'm kind of short when it comes to kids my age, and there are scars all over my legs and arms. Not a very pretty sight; it sure as hell doesn't guarantee a date. My eyes are too close together and my nose is kind of big. The only thing I liked about myself was the tanned look I got from staying in the sun all summer long.

I left the bathroom and with a yawn, I made my way down the stairs. As I was almost at the bottom I heard a familiar voice call my name. I turned around and managed to crack a smile. A small figure with a worried look stood at the top of the stairs.

"Big brother! I'm so happy to see you!" He hurried down the steps in front of me. "Mom and dad got mad last night when you didn't come home. Oh Dawn, I heard you last night! I'm so sorry, I didn't want to get him more mad." He clutched onto my shirt and rested his head against my chest. I heard him sniffling, and wiping his eyes.

"It's okay, Andy, I'm okay." I lied. It sounded strange to me, because I never usually lie unless the moment calls for it. And I didn't want to worry my little brother; sometimes he gets so paranoid. I stroked his hair, calming him down. "Andy, I'm fine. I feel better today."

"No, it's not okay! I'm such a coward…I-I meant to help you, but—"

"Really Andy…" My voice was barely above a whisper now. "It's okay..."

He gave me a tight hug, making me wince. I stood there, gasping, trying not to pry him from my waist. He finally let go with another sniffle. "When will you be back?"

I took a while to answer. I acted like I was thinking when I was trying to regain my senses from that damn hug. "Uh, I'll try to be back after school, though I might come home later."

"I miss you," he stated sullenly. I chuckled at his statement.

"But you have Jean. He plays with you," I pointed out after wiping my eyes out of pure sleepiness.

Jean is my older brother. Older only by about two years, but still old to me and Andy. He already turned seventeen this year, but he still acts like a kid. I'm turning fifteen this November, hopefully old enough to hang with his gang. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Andy made a grumpy face. "Jean doesn't play with me like you do Dawn. He makes too many jokes, and he's never serious enough to read me any stories. I like you better. You make me laugh when I need to, and you're serious enough at the same time." He smiles at me and I swear the whole room lights up.

"Heh, well, if I come back early, I'll read you a story. How does that sound?"

He jumped up and grinned. "That sounds great Dawn! WHOOPS, I mean, that sounds great Dawn." He whispered.

"Haha, okay, well you should probably get ready for school. Is the bus picking you up?" Andy nods, grinning and at the same time showing off the gap at the front.

"I'll miss you Dawn." He gave me another tight hug and bounded back upstairs with his usual cheeriness. I shook my head at the thought of him waking up early just to tell me something as ridiculous as that.

I didn't know what else to do so I walked into the kitchen and sneakily poured myself a glass of milk. I sat at the table when I looked at a stray pencil near the cabinets and suddenly remembered my math homework. I cursed, grabbed my bookless backpack, and headed out the door.

¤¤¤

When I reached the school, I made it just on time. The bell rang just as I stepped onto the property. Large groups of kids gathered and pressed themselves into the entrance of the building. I waited it out, taking a spare cigarette from my pocket and lighting it with a packet of cheap matches I bought at a corner store on the way over. I'm still pretty horrible at it, but I guess to get good you got to practice.

At first period, I took my usual seat in the back of the class. The second I sat down, something poked my hip. I jumped up with a yelp, causing everyone within a three desk radius to turn my way. My face grew warm as I reached into my pocket. To my surprise, it was the coin I picked up yesterday. I set it on the desk and sat down. Most people turned away and began whispering. I rolled my eyes and looked at the little coin. It looked like it belonged in a collection of some kind. I was probably gonna sell it at the local thrift shop for some money. I dunno, it wouldn't get much anyway.

"Look at little Dawn, playing with his life savings. I wonder what he's gonna spend it on."

I looked up to see Tony, a big ugly bully who just about owned the ninth grade, seeing as it was his third year. He had a flat pug nose and a nasty scar that ran across his upper lip. He stank to high heaven. Clinging to his every word was his dirty accomplice, Johnny. Johnny was probably the opposite of Tony in appearance. He was tall and slinky but actually had a nice smile if he was being nice. God, what the hell am I saying?

"Haha, yeah, look at him," Johnny said, "Whatcha gonna do with it, Dawn? Cause' a small dime ain't never bought anyone nothing." Jesus, If their English teacher could hear them. Tony joined it.

"Yeah, Dawn. No sane girl at this school would ever go out with someone who can't buy a few chips at lunch." They snickered harshly as I lowered my head in embarrassment, remembering yesterday.

I regained myself and sighed, unknowingly rolling my eyes. "Look, I really don't care if any girl looks at me or not, okay? I could care less if anyone didn't like me. Now go off and torture some innocent sixth grader or something." I turned back to my desk, and opened a notebook, trying to look a little busy.

"Aw, look Johnny. Dawn here ain't interested in no girl cause' he don't like no girls," said Johnny, with a malicious grin. It took a moment for Tony to understand the joke, but once he did, he began to get wise about it.

"He don't?" Tony acted surprised. I could tell what they were gonna pull. I know because I've heard every single accusation in the world.

"Nah Tony, cause' he's a fag. Hear that Dawn, you little faggot?" Johnny spit on me. I wiped away the spit and went on with my "looking busy" act. Several kids around us heard, and rumors began spreading like wild fire in the classroom. Before I could protest, however, the teacher walked into the class with a stride only a cocky teacher like him could perfect.

"Now now children! Settle down, class has begun. Settle Down. Before we begin anything, I want to start by checking our math homework. Everyone should have it, I gave you an easy assignment." Shit. Usually I start scribbling down random answers on a measly piece of paper, just to convince him. But today, I feel unusually lazy, and particularly angry. When I felt a wad of paper thrown at my head, I was just about to give that flat faced idiot a piece of my mind when I heard my name.

"Dawn? I called you twice. Do you have your homework or not?"

A few nosey heads swerved in my direction, and I pretended not to notice. Besides, just because they did their homework, and acted all goody-goody, didn't mean they were actually smart. It just meant they knew how to copy homework.

"Dawn? Hello? Come back to earth."

"Hmmm? Oh, um, no." A few titters graced the room, and the teacher shook his head.

"Dawn, Dawn…why don't you just do your homework? I understand this may be a bit hard for your level of understanding, but just give it a try, won't you? If you have any serious trouble, ask your parents. They went to school, they should be able to help you."

By then, I was gritting my teeth so hard, I thought I might have to go to the dentist again this month. I wasn't looking forward to that. This idiot of a teacher was beating on my ass, just cause' I didn't do some unimportant piece of crap. So what? Both my parents didn't even finish school. I should ask them? The last time I did, I got a new purple bruise on my left arm. Oh yes, and a little more than one kick to my already bruised legs.

Tony, or Johnny, whatever, threw a new wad of slimy, spit covered paper at my dirty hair, and I knew this was going to be a long day.

¤¤¤

Thanks to Tony, and his idiot face "buddy," I am now apparently a "faggot" to the members of my shitty school. Why the hell would anyone care anyway? I'm just a fish.

After lunch, my locker was written on with marker. I heard a few giggles around me as people passed by. With the same old sigh I made my way to the next period, disappointing the people who wanted to see me get mad or something. The same word seemed to follow me everywhere. I just ignored it as best as I could, keeping my mind on something important to me, like my famous sketchbook.

When I get bored, I just sketch whatever I'm feeling in this small yellow sketchbook. I even have every drawing since the seventh grade, just to see how good I've improved. Sometimes I feel good enough about a drawing to color it. Not too often though, because I've screwed up a good drawing more than once. As proud as I feel about this talent, it's also very disappointing. I thought maybe I could have a knack for math or science or something that would guarantee me a job, but drawing?

After the last period bell rang, I headed out to the parking lot with my things. I have an old CD player I had gotten about two years earlier for Christmas. I took it out of my backpack and slipped a CD in. Just as I sat down on the concrete steps by the building, a girl plopped down beside me, grinning like she won the eight million dollar lottery. I stared at her, with a CD player in my lap, and my backpack beside me.

"Hi!" she waved. I didn't say anything, and I hoped that would be enough to scare her away. It wasn't. She waited for my expected reply. When I didn't give it, she said, "My name's Marianna, you can call me Mari, or Anna." She giggled. "Whatever you prefer." More silence. "What's you're name?"

"Why are you talking to me?" I really didn't need another joke to finish the day. She gave me a blank look, but quickly recovered.

"Because I want to talk to you." She gave me a warm smile. I looked at her through narrow eyes. She looked about my age. She was Hispanic with dark chocolate eyes. Her long hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore average clothes. She gave me more of that calculating smile, and waited for an answer. Problem was, I didn't have one.

"So, I hear people are talking bad about you…"

I didn't let her finish. I shoved my CD played in my backpack, and zipped it up.

"No, wait! Don't go, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you or anything."

I looked at her. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to say that I think Tony and Johnny didn't have the right to be starting rumors about you, and I was wondering if there was any way I could help you?"

I immediately warmed up to her, and sat back down. But, just for safe measure, I cautiously asked, "What did you have in mind?"

She grinned again, and said slyly, "I think I have an idea."