Scene 3: Don’t Make Me Go, Momma
By: DropDeadThenDance
“Han, you’re not gonna get any breakfast if you don’t hurry your ass up,” my mom’s voice called up the stairs and I glanced out from under my blankets, my room almost completely black except for the distinct blue hue everything had.
I rolled out of bed, allowing myself to fall to the floor with the blanket wrapped tightly around my body, constricting me. I kicked at it a bit, my body feeling numb as I struggled sluggishly from the heap of sheets and my comforter. Finally free, I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling for a few strained moments, observing the odd green stars that had been there since I was maybe seven.
I sighed then, rolling onto my stomach, my arms out at my sides. “Mom,” I groaned loudly, my voice muffled by the plush carpet under me. “I’m not going to school today,” I called, slowly pushing myself up from the floor, my hair falling around my ears and face in clumps of tangled strands. I stood on my knees, stretching my arms above my head, and listened to my shoulders and back pop and crack.
“You’re funny, Han,” my mom called back.
I crawled to my feet, cracking my neck as I walked over to the thick blue curtains in front of my window; they blocked out most of the light, and also cast this cool blue shadow across my room. Something I made a big deal about when I was little.
I pulled them back, letting the sun filter in and I yawned again, my eyes closed as I inched away from the window. I moved around the room, picking up some random articles of clothing, and then made my way from the room with whatever motivation I could find.
The socks on my feet made it so I didn’t even have to pick my feet up off the floor as I made my way to the upstairs bathroom. The second floor of our house was very simple. There was my parents’ room on one end of a wide hallway, my room on the opposite end, and the bathroom in the middle.
I tapped on the bathroom door a few times, waited for a reply, then opened the door and went inside. I kicked the door gently closed, locked it, then dropped my clothes on the bathroom counter. Just another day with the same routine I went through every day; water on, shower curtain pulled back, teeth brushed, wash hair, towel dry, rinse, lather and repeat.
I shut off the water, shaking my head back and forth to rid my hair of some of the water I’d collected. The towel wrapped around my body felt too heavy, having collected the majority of the water from my shower. I tossed it over the shower’s curtain rod, letting it drip, while I ran a comb through my hair.
The girl staring back at me from the mirror was a short girl, about 5’5”, with shoulder length black hair. She had the underside of her hair dyed a bright blue, which contrasted her grey complexion shockingly. As for her eyes, they were a deep brown that looked almost purple in direct sunlight. I poked her in the forehead, my fingerprint being left on the mirror, and I wondered if I was going to get any taller any time soon. Considering I was already seventeen, it wasn’t likely, but was it wrong to keep hoping?
As for my funky complexion; mom says I’m a little native, which explains why I’m a little darker than the average white girl, but I’d always noticed how pale I was despite that. Like someone had dumped grey into the mix when I was being conceived, giving everything about me a slight grey hue. Sounds like a pain, but it makes wearing bright colors a blast because they always pop.
I pulled on a royal blue tank top, tugging it all the way down to my thighs, then let it ride back up to my hips. I yanked on tan, khaki shorts that dropped to my knees, a black, zip up hoodie with a big, white line print of C2 on the back. “Good enough,” I said with a nod to myself in the mirror then turned on my heel and walked out of the bathroom.
I paced myself down the stairs, my arms out at my sides, and I jumped the last three steps. “Mom!” I called as I turned the corner by the bottom of the stairs, walking into the kitchen. “Do I have toast?” I asked as she turned, holding a plate out to me. I grabbed it and nodded when I found toast already in place. “Thanks mom,” I said with a little smile and she smiled back at me before returning to the dishes.
My mother, Elli Batson, had long burgundy colored hair, her eyes a light brown, and her face dotted with freckles. She had a slight frame, thin shoulders, and long legs; she was pretty, and always dressed in flared blue jeans and a simple white or cream blouse. She always looked like she was about to go somewhere, which wasn’t unlikely, but I always appreciated her simplicity compared to a lot of moms I knew.
“Homework done?” she asked as she set a plate in the rack, her eyes glancing back at me briefly.
“Yeah,” I lied smoothly. Neither of my parents knew about my grades, I made sure of it, and spent much of my time catching phone calls, deleting messages, and hiding report cards from them. It wasn’t that I wanted to lie to them, I just didn’t agree with the school system, so I rebelled against it and refused to deal with them altogether.
… I’m not stupid, I just refuse to do the work until the staff stops treating students like they’re just a part of their paycheck. When that happens, I’ll be a straight A student, scout’s honor.
“So, about not going to school?” I asked as I scrapped jelly over the surface of my toast.
My mom laughed, looking over her shoulder at me. “You’re funny,” she said as she set another dish in the rack. She flicked her hands dry, shaking them a bit, then turned around to face me with a brow raised, her arms folded over her chest. “I’m wondering though, why haven’t you been wanting to go to school lately?” she asked casually and I looked at her with a blank stare.
“Mom,” my tone was flat. “It’s school, why would I want to go?”
She shrugged. “You usually don’t mind it so much, but lately you bring it up a lot more,” moms are always too observant, but maybe this was my chance to get out of it?
“It’s the new teacher, that Mr. Anderson guy,” I explained then took a massive bite out of my toast, trying my best to ignore the crumbs and little bits of jelly that were now sticking to my face. “His nickname is Major Hardass, nobody likes him, not even Megan,” I continued, wiping my face on a napkin as Mom’s face took on a more thoughtful expression.
“I had teachers like that when I was in school,” she said suddenly and I glanced up at her. “Honestly, looking back, those were my favorites. They did more with the kids and we learned more from them,” she unconsciously lectured and I slammed my head into the table, having finished my toast and egg. I felt her hand on the back of my head then, ruffling my hair as she picked up my plate. “Give him some more time. Maybe you’ll start to like him.”
“Agh, Mom!” I said as I threw myself back in my chair. Today was going to be horrible, I knew it…
Scene End
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Chapter notes:Thanks ShadowXNight13 for being the first one to review this story!! I'm glad you like Hannah so far, and I hope she doesn't disappoint :3
Anyway, here is Scene 3! It's mostly filler for right now, but we get to meet another character; Hannah's mom! :D
Alright, review please!
Talk to you kids later!
(4/7/13)