Perfect Disaster ~Original Story~

Not much to say here. Read the story and you'll find out.

Chapter 3

Kaylee's Weekend


When the weekend finally comes, I'm relieved, but worried. Mom's away all of Saturday, leaving me alone with my dad. Hopefully, he'll just sleep, or work. Anything but come after me. I still have a bruise on my forearm from last week, when he got into a temper. I'd offer more detail, but I hate talking about it.

When I get home, I go straight up to my room, set down my science textbook on my desk, and head to the computer. I sign onto the email, and find spam from iTunes (ugh) someone's followed me on Tumblr (yay) and.. more spam from some company selling phones. Deleting them, I exit that, enter Microsoft Word, and begin typing. Glancing at my phone now and then, I type out all the poems I wrote that day. There's three, one titled 'Drowning In Air,' another 'Forever', and the final one, 'Miss You'. That one is one of the first poems I managed to write about my sister without crying. She's been dead for two years now, and I still can't put thoughts about her on paper. So, I guess you should know about this.

I had an older sister. Her name was Elaine. She was two years older than me, so she would be 17 now. She died in a car accident, about a week after I won that talent show in middle school. After she died, Mom went into depression, Dad started drinking and becoming violent towards Mom and I, and I.. well I drowned my sadness in my writing, and my music. I had no choice. I couldn't go on with life as normal after that. Of course, now I'm pretty much a huge loser, with no sister, a violent dad, and a depressed mom, whom I love very much, but some days she just can't cope with everything. Some days I can't cope either. But I have to. Because with guys like Caleb and Jake around, you can't exactly burst into tears without hearing things like "Baby", "whining biitch", and "loser". Which is of course what I'm trying to avoid, so I stay quiet.

I go downstairs, and grab a handful of almonds. Holding them in one hand, the other presses the messages button on our answering machine. There's only two: One from Mom's therapist, asking her to call him back. I quickly scribble a note of this and stick it to the wall above the phone, so she'll see it. The second message is from my beloved high school, informing students that the Grade 10 Prom is indeed scheduled for May 10th. I check the calendar. April 20th. Damn. 20 days till I'll be forced to.. oh, hang on. The message isn't finished. The recording's saying something about the prom being in Greenstone Park. Say what? I thought proms were always at school. I guess not this one.

I run back up to the computer, and consult Google Maps. Greenstone Park is apparently not to far from here, right below those bluffs overlooking Crystal Lake. This information being known, I head over to my desk to sort my binder. My 'doodle pages', as I call them, full of my lyrics, are practically overflowing, and I want to empty them out. The more there are, the more chance someone will see them. So I carefully check my binder, making sure each sheet is there. I always put a number on the corner of each doodle sheet, just to keep track of them. I would completely die if someone read one. So I begin counting: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.. wait, 9's not there! Maybe I misplaced it? 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16. Then that's it.

In panic, I comb the rest of the binder. Nothing. My textbooks? Not there. My backpack search shows nothing, either. I check everywhere it could have gone. But it's not there. My lyric sheet is gone.

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