Track 4: Going HAM

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Misery Loves Company

By: theinkslingerr

I'd like to thank everyone that has voted or commented on this story! Especially Fantasy_Sky731 for the sweet, thoughtful review she left for Chapter 3. :)

Keymuse, Exolover44, drizzlestarstone, qveen_what, and Miyako_Toya- you guys were some of the first to vote and comment, so I really want to thank you for your interest and support! You guys are my Day 1s haha.

jhopexoxo, ELMckenzie, AngelofRuin, ChangesWelcomed, IWouldSayNaomi, lucian-islandgirl, dil_howelter2, KindaNobody, and the hilarious BlvzeBaii- you guys are my enthusiastic commenters and I always look forward to what you have to say.

If I forgot anyone, I apologize, but would like to thank you as well.

Keep writing~

Track 4: Going HAM


When is it OK to knock over a kid on crutches?

A. Never!

B. It depends...

C. Any time

D. When running from an evil, psychotic bully.

If you chose D, then you are correct!

I burst through the cafeteria's double doors so hard and so fast, I almost took out an innocent civilian. On crutches.

I used my momentum to swing around and grab him under one arm just as both crutches hit the floor. He wobbled and flailed, avoiding another broken bone when the guy he was with grabbed his other arm and snarled, "I'm sure wherever you're going isn't that important!"

"Sorry," I mumbled, before sprinting down the hall, bumping into several other people along the way. Thankfully, none on crutches.

~~~

The girl's bathroom at Beechmill High was a place I trained my bladder to avoid. I could chug almost two bottles of water and half a carton of milk without having to pee until I got home. When I flew into a dingy stall littered with gum, cigarette butts, and the remains of a tampon wrapper, I remembered why, but collapsed against the door anyway.

Josh Henderson now went to my school and I'd poured chocolate milk all over him- in front of everyone in the cafeteria! By the end of the day, word would spread, and he'd hunt me down to exact sweet revenge.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shivering, and thinking about the time he threw a water ballon full of hot sauce at my face. Due to some miracle (his aim was perfect, my reflexes sucked) it hit my shoulder...

Mostly.

A few splashes made it into my left eye and Enid spent the rest of that recess flushing it out with lukewarm water.

I wore prescription contacts now, so if Josh revisited that stunt, I'd probably end up blind.

There were approximately 1500 high schools in the state of Pennsylvania.

Why had Josh Henderson crawled out of my nightmares and picked mine?

"He's a god, he's a man,

He's a ghost, he's a guru!"

I jumped as my phone blared an Arctic Monkeys' song, fumbled it out of my pocket, and watched Enid's name flash across the cracked screen. I let the call go to voicemail. I wasn't coherent enough to speak. Plus she could still be sitting next to Jessica Paoli, and I didn't need her hearing anything.

This time the phone vibrated and a series of texts appeared.

Enid: where r u?

Enid: heard that was Josh Henderson! Josh-freaking-Henderson!

Enid: didn't he move to florida or something?

California, I wanted to text back. He moved to California. I remembered, because I'd cried tears of joy.

Enid: what'd he say to u?

Enid: u ok?

Enid: Miz! Answer!

Ah, so we were back to nicknames now? I was in the middle of replying, so she'd stop freaking out when I got one more text. It read:

Enid: we still on to film after school? just wanna make sure you're up for it...

I stared at my phone before chuckling darkly.

That's what this was about.

She wanted to make sure I wasn't too traumatized to film the first episode of Misery Loves Company. Especially since Ackerman had been "so kind" to let us delay filming in order for me to "prepare myself" and "gather my thoughts."

The condescending prick left a 30 page contract on my table.

Subtle? I think not.

Opting to ignore Enid's texts, I slid out of the stall, numb and totally exhausted. Images of my warm bed, and sweet, sweet Dennis overwhelmed me- they were what I wanted right now, what I needed.

The rest of this horrible day could continue without me.

~~~

Most kids got yelled at for eating straight from boxes and containers, but when I walked into my kitchen that afternoon, that's exactly what my Mom was doing.

I swallowed, surprised to find her home, but she regarded me lightly. "You ate the last slice of bread, didn't you?"

Not: "What are you doing skipping school?"

I couldn't expect much- I knew that. She was wildly nonchalant on good days and forgot she had a child on bad days. It had been a problem when I was, you know, five, and needed an adult, but now it wasn't a big deal since I could take care of myself.

"I buy you pop tarts, Misery. Eat those for breakfast," she grumbled, cramming ham down her throat.

"You haven't gone shopping in, like, three weeks," I replied in a bored tone, the empty freezer/fridge obvious proof.

My Mom leaned back in the kitchen chair, glanced at the fridge, then went back to her ham. "They've been working us hard at the hospital." As an RN it wasn't uncommon for her to pull 12 or 13 hour shifts. Sometimes weeks would go by and I'd only see her in passing. The freezer usually housed a couple of frozen meals, so for it to be completely empty things had to be hectic.

We weren't rich, but we weren't impoverished.

Through the years most of our communication happened via the dining room table. No, not during warm dinners or girl talk over ice cream. More like anything I needed her to look at (bills, report cards, permission slips) would go on the dining room table, and in a day or two they'd be signed or dealt with.

It was convenient and efficient- and she rarely had to talk to me.

"Did you see the stuff I left for you the other day?" I asked, closing the fridge and perusing the equally empty cabinets.

She scrolled through her phone with the ham-free hand, "Already signed."

That caused me to falter in my search for sustenance.

Two days ago, I'd found Blue Vendetta on my doorstep and it turned everything upside down. That same night, after they all left, I placed Ackerman's contract on the dining room table for my Mom to see. I was under 18 so it required a guardian's signature.

Well, I didn't think my guardian would sign it.

The only crazy thing in my Mom's life was her job. Otherwise, she was very much a woman of simple pleasures: lunch meat, worn-in crocs, and Living Single reruns.

Right now she had all the power. The power to say no and end this obligation.

I'd really been hoping she wouldn't sign the contract, so I could call Enid and regretfully inform her I wasn't allowed to do Misery Loves Company. Enid would be upset, but at least it wouldn't be directed at me. We'd complain about my Mom, call her unfair, and move on. Everything would go back to normal.

But if my Mom actually said yes, I'd have no excuse! No one to shift the blame to.

I stopped raiding the cabinets, emerging with a packet of shrimp flavored ramen noodles. Giving her my best incredulous stare, I asked, "You're essentially ok with me being on a reality show?" Calling it a reality show was a bit much, but thanks to the Kardashians, parents reacted negatively to those words.

"Reality show?" My Mom murmured, arching a brow. "It wasn't some kind of permission slip for school?"

I gripped the packet of ramen so hard it crunched loudly. "Why would you sign something you didn't even read?" Sure, I'd tried to look over it myself, but what if I missed the part about being Blue Vendetta's unpaid roadie for the next 10 years or the part about their sketchy record label claiming my firstborn? Parents were supposed to help you keep an eye out for that stuff, keep you from being taken advantage of.

Not sign a 30 page contract from some greedy record exec without reading it!

And to think years from now my future child could be forced to join some awful alternative rock band, all because their grandma had been more interested in lunchmeat than her own daughter.

"I'm tired, Misery," my Mom admitted, standing up. Even though she'd named me, I hated the fact that she could look me in the eye and actually say it. Free from responsibility, free from guilt.

All of a sudden I wanted to hurt her. Disappoint her somehow. "This isn't the first time, you know."

She stared at me blankly, "What?"

"This isn't the first time I've skipped," I blurted angrily. Tired? Maybe that would wake her up.

Honestly, this was only my second time skipping school. The first time had been with Enid and I'd been terrified of getting caught, but she convinced me to do it for an Everything Enid exclusive interview with an up-and-coming electric violinist in New York. The whole train ride up, I'd been a wreck! Convinced that one of our teachers would jump out from under a seat and slap us with detention or a random adult would magically know what high school we went to and rat us out.

Now I wished I'd skipped school a million times just to see something on my Mom's face.

She stared at me for a moment, eyes just like mine filling with suspicion. Disbelief. Then she started to laugh! She actually started to laugh! This simple, guilt-free, careless woman I called my Mother strode right up to me and said, "When you were really little, maybe second grade, I came and pulled you out of class. I think it was free pancake day at iHop and I figured- why not? It'd be a nice break from routine. Can you remember what happened next?"

No. I couldn't.

"You started crying," she continued. "Over your blueberry pancakes, and demanded I take you back to school because your teacher was reading your favorite book for story time. Listen, honey, despite these being your rebellious teenage years, you really haven't changed much. And I don't know what happened today- what caused you to skip, but it must've been big."

Please ask me.

Just ask me and I'll tell you.

She didn't ask.

Before my Mom walked out of the kitchen, she said, "Enid and her parents' signed. She's your friend, right? So I signed too. I'm heading into work, get yourself a pizza for dinner."

I stood there for a long time.

~~~

Once the water in the small pot began to boil I threw in the ramen, the flavor packet, and stirred angrily.

My Mom's reaction to me skipping school was...unsettling, to say the least. Should I be happy she didn't think I had a rebellious bone in my body...or offended?

I was kinda offended.

I thought about this as I wolfed down my soggy ramen on the couch. Who cares if she'd signed it? I could still tell Enid she didn't want me doing the show. I grabbed my phone, beyond tempted.

There were more texts from Enid:

Enid: don't know why ur ignoring my texts...?

Enid: can't find you anywhere. misery hayes- did u actually skip?! >:3

Enid: remember, be at my house by 4.

Enid: I really need this. please.

Sighing, I tossed the phone on the coffee table, not caring if it cracked because it was already cracked.

I couldn't lie to Enid.

I just couldn't.

It was 1:30 when I closed my eyes, brain craving the silence of sleep.

~~~

Persistent knocking startled me awake.

I sprang from the couch, almost tripping over the low coffee table, and fumbled to get a good look at my phone.

2:50?!

Oh my God, had I really slept that long? I had a little over an hour to get myself together and walk to Enid's house.

The knocking continued in the background, irritating the mild throbbing at my temple. I treaded slowly to the door, wondering who it could be.

When I pulled it open, I found myself face to face with Eli Owens, Blue Vendetta's bassist. Still disoriented from my nap, I stumbled forward a bit then heard the door close behind me.

Huh?

Whirling around brought Rocco Alden into my line of sight. He grinned, leaning against the front door, arm behind him, no doubt gripping the knob. "Hi," Rocco said, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Hi..." I answered slowly for lack of anything better to say.

This was all too familiar.

"Just so you know, this is us kidnapping you," he explained cheerfully, blocking my way back inside.

I narrowed my eyes and frowned, wondering if Enid was behind this yet again.

"But if you're good- I mean, really good...there might be ice cream at some point," Rocco finished with a wink.

~~~

So, you've finally met Misery's Mom. The woman behind Misery's, well, misery! Haha. What did you think of her? About the way she interacts with her daughter?

It's not my aim to make her like Cinderella's "evil" Stepmother, so sorry if that's what you were expecting. I merely want to show readers someone flawed. A mother, but still very much flawed.

Stay tuned for more Rocco and Josh! ;) I know there wasn't a lot of them in this chapter. That's because I wanted to concentrate on Misery's relationship with her Mom.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net