Roy Theresa and Lisa: Just Starting High School

1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-1-0983-0749-3
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 222 Seiten

Theresa and Lisa are normal fourteen year old girls, attending a Denver high school and doing what teenage girls do. But life as they know it comes to a screeching halt when both girls face the shock of pregnancy-one as a result of sexual assault, and the other through a relationship with the boy downstairs. As they struggle to adapt to teenage motherhood, family drama, drugs, and alcohol will affect their attempts to raise their sons.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Roy, Rob

Leseproben

Chapter One You Can’t Keep Me from Going! “Theresa! Where are you going?” demanded Mom from the open front door that I had, a moment before, slammed shut in her face. “Out!” I snarled, only half-turning my face to her when I stopped to answer. “It’s a school night and your grades….” “They’re my grades and my business! And I don’t care!” Blotches of red began to grow across Mom’s face as she stood in the open doorway. She reached for the frame to steady herself and snatched her hand back when it hit the scarred, splintered hole left from a previous tenant kicking the screen off. Then, Mom advanced toward me and I turned to face her, standing firm in the dry grass. I kept my eyes narrow and my face in a sneer. “You can’t stop me from going! You can’t stop me from seeing Tom!” I spat with the sneer, “On Tuesday or ever, I’m grown!” Before I could add another insult, my shoulders slammed onto the ground, and the sudden weight from Mom slamming on top of me forced out the air from my lungs. As I struggled to breathe, I could feel her hands pressed around my neck. About that time Mom must have realized that she lay on top of me with her hands at my throat. “You ungrateful…” she exclaimed in surprise and stopped trying to strangle me. “Get out!” rasped Mom as she solved the problem of what to do with me. She pushed away from me like I smelled rotten and struggled to her feet. I still lay on the ground struggling to breathe and Mom took two deep breaths. She yelled at me, “Don’t you ever come back here again!” Then Mom straightened her faded blue work shirt and blinked her crying blue eyes that tried to look daggers at me through the dirty blond hair hanging in her face. Finally, she turned, walked back through the open door and into the apartment. Surprised but unhurt, I scrambled to my feet, took a deep breath, and began to run off into the September evening. As I ran, I brushed some dry grass off the back of my crop top, the skin of my lower back, and the seat of my jeans. I also brushed my hand through my blonde hair, but I found nothing but tangles. Mom was always crabbing at me to take care of my hair. After several minutes of running, with 7-Eleven store in view, I slowed down, out of breath with my chest heaving. I could see Tom through the window. Tall Tom, with his dark hair, coming down the side of his face and scattering out just past his ears, as he played a video game. Tom had a funny white cross on the back of his T-shirt that moved from side to side as he wrestled with the controls of the video game. I ran in the store. “Go! Go! Go! Shit!” Tom complained in exasperation and he slapped the side of the video game he’d just lost as I ran in the door of 7-Eleven. Tom looked down, and as always, he looked past my eyes to my breasts. “What’s up?” He questioned to my uplifted chest. “Mom and I had a fight—she threw me out!” I announced still out of breath. “Isn’t that great? Great for us?” I continued trying to catch my breath while still looking up at Tom. “Let’s go party then,” Tom suggested. “There are always some people getting together at Kevin’s.” “All they do at Kevin’s is get wasted,” I complained, knowing that one of the first to be wasted would be Tom. “They never do anything fun, just get sick, or pass out.” “Let’s check it out and see who’s there,” said Tom, ignoring my protests. “Besides, I’d like to get a little high, relax, and see if there are any other parties tonight.” He slid his hand across the bare skin of my back, between my jeans and crop top, pulled me close, and steered me toward the door and his Mustang. “It might help you to relax more if you took more than one small pull on a brew or single hit on a joint,” he commented on the way out. Pure volume of sound blasted the night and drowned any possibility of talking once the Mustang started and Tom’s sound system came on. I let myself in from the passenger side after Tom reached across from the driver’s seat to unlock the door. I slid to the middle. Tom, reaching for the floor shift by my legs, ran his hand up the inside of my leg to the point where I stopped him by taking his hand and guiding it to the gearshift. I scolded him by shaking my finger at him knowing that I couldn’t be heard because of the blaring music. Before putting the car in reverse, Tom grabbed a Michelob out of the cooler installed in the back and waved it in invitation to me. I declined, and he opened it up for himself. A beer and several heavy metal songs later, we parked near Kevin’s and climbed out. Tom got what was left of the six-pack out of the cooler. With the beer dangling in one hand and me firmly in the other, Tom led the way to Kevin’s. Tom and I stepped around and over beer bottles and cans, we cut across the dry grass to the side of the red brick apartments and the stairs down to Kevin’s. “Smells like some good stuff,” remarked Tom sniffing as we approached the battered screen door of the apartment. I just wrinkled my nose at the smell of marijuana rising from the basement apartment. I had the feeling that everyone there would be polluted already. Just inside the screen door, bodies sprawled individually, in couples and in groups on the floor, confirming my suspicions that everyone would be polluted. Each person seemed to hold a beverage in one hand while the empty cans and bottles on the floor served as ashtrays for some of the cigarette butts and roaches. Tom accepted a joint offered as we passed a threesome on the floor who had been sharing it, took a hit, and offered it to me. I declined. Music blasted the room continuously from a sound system stacked against the wall near the door. We found a place on the floor near the back corner, and sat down. I started nursing one of Tom’s beers and snuggled close to him on the floor. People had to shout into each other’s ears to be heard. I saw that few were even trying. Kevin touched my hand. I looked over and accepted a joint that I passed on to Tom. Tom took a couple of long hits, and then offered it back to me. I waved it away and snuggled closer. Tom and Kevin yelled in each other’s ear for a few minutes, finished off the joint, and started making another. While Tom and Kevin occupied themselves making the new joint and smoking it, I watched the traffic in and out of the kitchen. People rose from the floor and turned right into the kitchen for a bottle or a can, returned, rose to go to the bathroom next to the kitchen and back to the kitchen to start over again. Other people, probably unconscious, didn’t move at all on the floor. Tom, after he finished the joint and had a long pull on his brew, interrupted my observations. We got down to the serious business of kissing. Way too soon for me, Tom went for my neck to leave his mark and slid his hand up under my top. I pulled closer to protect my breasts and he slid his hand around to my back. His fingers started working at trying to unhook my bra. I could feel the clumsiness of the beer and the dope in his hand movements. I knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get it unhooked, not with one hand anyway. I didn’t reach back and help him either. After a while as he became even more clumsy and frustrated, I had to yell at him. “Tom! You’re going to rip the hooks off my bra! There are too many people here anyway. Besides, here comes Kevin.” I pushed his hand away. I quickly moved my own hand from the floor before Kevin stepped on it with his steel-toed boots. Kevin interrupted by yelling in Tom’s free ear. “Try this shit, Tom. It’s the best stuff here tonight!” After Tom took a strong hit from the joint Kevin offered and coughed, Kevin shouted, “It’s a bit rough, but really good stuff, huh?” He took the joint back from Tom, took a hit, and squeaked into my ear as he exhaled smoke in my face. “Try some, it’s great.” I accepted the joint from Kevin and took a small hit. I gagged and coughed before I could pass it on to Tom. He rescued the joint from my hand, banged me on the back with his hand, and laughed. Kevin offered me his bottle of what I thought was beer to wash the rawness out of my throat. I took a large drink, desperate to stop the coughing, and I gulped stuff that tasted like cough syrup. Kevin and Tom smoked some more and then Kevin smiled at me and drifted away. Soon, Tom’s eyes started getting glazed and he seemed to slide even closer to the floor. I drank my beer to get the bad taste of Kevin’s drink out of my mouth. Tom didn’t even attempt to talk to me. So, I snuggled close. Before I knew it, drowned in the music and the beer and the stuff that tasted like cough syrup and the dope, I passed out. As I awoke, I felt strange. Something felt wrong. I felt cold where I shouldn’t be cold. Where was my top? Where was my bra? My breasts were bare and cold. Something felt wrong with my jeans, too. With an effort I dragged my eyes open and looked down to see what I felt. In the dim lights from the open door to the bathroom, I could see that my crop top hung around my neck along with my unhooked bra and that my jeans had been unbuttoned and pulled down...