Fighting Fate

Well, not only is this my first posting on Literotica, but it’s my first time ever attempting to write a story. Later on this story will have both romantic and sexual elements, but as for now, this will be a primarily non-erotic story. Not everything in life is about lust and sex, and I really hope this story does a good job of depicting other human emotions we’re all so familiar with: anger, anxiety, hurt, trust, despair, and hope. Please, please, please give me feedback. I hope you all can find you relate in some way to Amelia.

Chapter 1

I stand outside the doors that lead into my new school. They’re ugly. They’re this atrocious green color that makes the doors and window frames look like the Incredible Hulk barfed all over everything. Somehow I really don’t think I’m going to like this school, but of course I don’t have a say in it. I never did, and I never will. My dad decided he wanted a new family. So he went and found a woman with three kids of her own and left my mom and me to fend for ourselves and my two younger siblings. My mom had to move, and there were no apartments for rent in the school district, so here I am standing outside the green and maroon and brick building, on my first day of high school in a brand new fucking school district… and I know absolutely no one.

I take a deep breath. It’s not like I can make time stop just by standing still. I know I have to go inside and try to find my way to homeroom. Then I need to spend the day wandering around trying to find all of my classes. And hope to God I meet someone, anyone, that might be friendly enough with me so that I don’t have to eat lunch by myself. The bell rings. I take a deep breath and take my first steps into the school.

I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Amelia Elizabeth Gereau (pronounced “jer” as in “journal” and “ow” as in “row”…but don’t worry, no one ever pronounces it right anyways). Back when my dad still pretended he cared about his family, he would call me Milly Lilly. Now I just go by Mia. Anyways, I’m 14 and I am the oldest of three. My sister’s name is Serena, which is pretty ironic if you ask me because she is the farthest thing away from “serene” as a person can be. She’s three years younger than me and about as different from me as could be. ‘Bout the only similarity her and I have is that we’re both pretty tall. I’m 5’9 and still growing. At 11, Serena’s probably around 5’4. I have dark brown hair that goes to my shoulder blades. It’s bone straight and layered and about as thick as the vegetation in the rain forest. It never does anything I want it to do, so I normally just stick a headband in it or throw it up in a ponytail. My sister’s hair is longer than mine, goes to about the middle of her back. But her hair is blonde and wavy and frizzes like nobody’s business when it’s humid out. I’m really skinny…always have been. But I can eat. I have a really fast metabolism, and back when I was in fourth grade I got pneumonia. Threw up for two weeks straight. By the end of that nightmare, you could just about see every bone in my body. Then the following winter I got pneumonia again, and all the weight I had managed to gain back, I lost again. I only just broke 100 pounds this summer. I have no boobs and no butt. My sister is chunky, even a little overweight. But she’s already developing. In fact, her butt’s always been bigger than mine and whereas I’m just barely an A cup at 14, she’ll probably be a B cup soon. I have blue-green eyes that are more green than blue, and her eyes, well, they’re like you’re staring into the ocean.

My brother’s name is Jackson and he is 10 years younger than me. He is just the sweetest little boy you will ever meet. My parents divorce isn’t final yet, but my parent’s have been separated for 8 months now and Jackson is taking it really hard. He obviously couldn’t understand what was going on when my parents sat us down to tell us they were divorcing and dad was leaving. Jackson was, after all, only three, and the only thing he wanted to do was get back to playing his Sesame Street game on the computer. Then all of the sudden Daddy isn’t there to tuck him into bed at night and Jack doesn’t understand why. So lately Jack has been throwing a lot of temper tantrums, but we all know it’s because he’s hurt and confused.

I was so excited when Jackson was born. Even back then my dad was distant, though I didn’t really notice it. I would change Jack’s diapers and put him in for naps just about as often as my mom would. I gave him his bottles pretty often too. In fact, Jack called me mama before he called our mom that, but mom doesn’t know about that. I love Jack so much and I feel as though it’s my responsibility to help raise him now that my dad has left. Jack follows me around the house like a duckling follows its mother. He and I play games together and cuddle together to watch TV. Sometimes he feels more like my son then my brother. I’m fiercely protective of him. No one is ever going to hurt my Jackson.

My mom has her issues. She can be a real mean bitch sometimes, has even gone as far as to hit me hard enough to leave bruises. But her specialty is her yelling. Boy, when she gets mad (and it doesn’t really take too much) she can scream and call you names and threaten you and all you’re thinking is when can I go to my room to escape. I know all of this is really hard on her. I know she’s been depressed since she found out Dad was playing house with another woman, and I know she hasn’t been sleeping well either. Money’s a lot tighter now too, and we’re lucky her parents live so close to us because they help us so much. They bought the house we’re living in now. My mom just pays them rent every week to help cover the bills. We would probably be homeless if it wasn’t for them.

So that’s my family. My dad’s gone, and my mom doesn’t know how to control her anger very well. Sometimes, she can’t afford groceries, and more often then not our phone, TV, and/or our internet is shut off due to unpaid bills. We have no cell phones because that’s one more bill my mom can’t pay. Only a few people know all this about me, most are my friends from my old school. My family doesn’t even know about the time my mom kicked me from one end of the apartment to the other because I didn’t finish my homework before gymnastics practice, but my best friend Jaime knows. She’s one of the few people who know almost everything about me.

I don’t open up to people very easily. I’m shy and I’m a little self-conscious. I love being around people I know, but it’s the getting to know part that I suck at. I was in my old school district for five years, and I managed to make a pretty good group of friends. But only one of those friends knows everything. I wish she was here with me. I wouldn’t feel so awkward as I walk into homeroom. I quickly scan the room, no assigned seats, so I sit smack dab in the middle of the room. About half the seats are still empty. Slowly people start trickling in and filling in the rest of the seats. I look at the clock, 7:15, only 7 more hours until I can go home. The teacher comes in with a giant binder full of stuff. She sits at the desk and looks at everyone over her glasses. Her face looks like she just bit into a lemon. She’s probably at least 60 years old, and that’s being kind. Her hair is graying, and her face, with all its wrinkles, is starting to resemble that of a Shar Pei.

She takes role call, mispronounces my name, which is nothing new. I correct her even though I know it won’t make much of a difference. She gives us our agenda books, with the school name printed on it. The name is spelled wrong. She says we’ll be getting new ones in about a month. Then she hands out all of the papers we need to have our parents fill out and return within the week. She gives us our locker assignments and tells us we can choose our locker buddies. “Well that’s just great,” I think as I watch everyone pair up. Most of these people have been in the same classes since first grade. I just write my name down next to a locker that doesn’t have anyone assigned to it. If anyone else doesn’t have a locker buddy, they can just put their name down next to mine.

With five minutes left until first period begins, we’re allowed to go find our lockers and put our stuff away. All the freshmen lockers are in the same hallway, so I just follow everyone. Once I situated all of my stuff into my locker, I take my first look at my schedule. English is first, and it’s in the same hallway as my locker. Thank God, at least I won’t get lost trying to get to my first class. I find the room, sit towards the back. Still, no one has even attempted to talk to me, and I’m not feeling confident enough to start a conversation with anyone, so I just sit there and watch people as they come into the class. There’s no one I recognize from the bus or my homeroom. Go figure. Today is going to be a long day.

*******

My first day turned out to not be so bad after all. I even talked to a few people who seem pretty nice. This girl Sarah, a girl I recognized from being on my bus, turned out to be in my science class. We sat together at lunch and we really hit it off. Then in my art class I ended up sitting next to this kid, Chris, who was really funny, and also pretty damn good looking. At lunch, I met this kid Sean, and we ended up being in the same Spanish class. He and I just sort of connected. I have a feeling he and I are going to become pretty close. Even the bus ride home wasn’t bad. The two girls who are at my bus stop sat with me and we talked the whole ride home. Maybe I was being stupid this morning when I stood staring at the doors to the school. Maybe I was wrong when I spent the last 3 months convincing myself that switching school districts in high school was the worst thing that could ever have happened to me. Maybe going to this high school won’t be so bad after all. My classes aren’t hard, none of my teachers are complete assholes, and I actually talked to some people today. Maybe I can do this. I can recreate myself into a person who isn’t afraid of being ridiculed. Maybe I can be a person who is confident and can say “fuck you” to anyone who tries to stomp me down. Maybe I’ll actually find my place, my voice. Maybe, just maybe, I can actually do this.