Friend or Fiend

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Avalon, we haven't had a sleepover in such a long time," I hear my best friend's usual perky voice say. "Wanna have one this weekend?"

"Sure," I reply automatically; the second my best friend, Brittany finishes talking.

"Wait," she says, frowning. "Don't you have to tell your mom?"

I roll my eyes. "She's not going to care. Beer is much more important to her than her own daughter."

"Just call her," Brittany pesters me.

"Fine," I say, surrendering. Grabbing my black iPhone 4s, the one I bought with the money I earned, I dial my alcohol-addicted mother.

After 5 rings, I wonder if it is necessary to call her, but she picks up on the next ring. Right off, I can tell she is drunk when her voice comes out slurred. "He...hello," she says, before giggling for no reason.

I want to get off the phone as quickly as possible, so I get right to the point. "Mom, I'm gonna go to Brittany's for a sleepover."

My mom giggles out of nowhere. "Who's Brittany? Is she Lucash?"

I sigh and slowly, like I am talking to a baby, I explain, "No, Brittany is not my dad. Lucas is your husband. He died when I was in second grade. Brittany is my best friend."

"Then is she a bitch? You get it... Brittany-britch. Britch-bitch." She guffaws again, probably thinking that her offensive joke is the funniest thing ever.

This time, I feel the anger boiling up in my stomach. How dare you call my friend a bitch! I say to myself. You'll pay for it.

However, I don't say my thoughts aloud. Instead, I defend my best friend. "Mom, Brittany is not a bitch! You get that? Brittany is not a female dog!"

I wait for a response, but all I get is silence. I wait for what seems like forever before hearing glass shattering and the snores of my mother. She fell asleep.

I press the end call button and sigh. Turning my attention back to Brittany, I say, "Sorry."

"Sorry? What are you sorry about? You haven't done a thing," she says, with a confused expression upon her face.

"Okay," I say, "Can we just go?"

Nodding once as if understanding my feelings, she leads the way to her car and I follow.

"Is she always like this?" Brittany asks, staring at the path ahead, probably embarrassed because she heard our conversation.

I nod, but realize that Brittany can't see me. "Yep," I reply instead.

The silence between us is uncomfortable, but it breaks when I hear a voice call out, "What is that loser doing with Brittany?"

When Brittany hears that, she whirls around angrily. Her eyes narrow and she hisses, "Who said that?"

Everyone in the yard bow their head and look down at their feet, unable to meet her eyes. They don't want to get scolded by the most popular girl in the school; they'll never hear the end of it if they do.

Brittany is about to stomp over to the nearest kid - a girl named Danielle, who is in her cheerleading team - and ask her about it, but I pull her arm.

"Leave it alone," I say. "It's fine."

"But-" she protests before I cut her off.

"Just leave it, k?" I say, half-pulling her to her car.

She nods and gets into the front seat. I ride shot-gun next to her and sink into the comfy seat that I only imagined in my dreams. I rest my feet on the dash board. Although it isn't fair to the car, walking 2 miles to and from school isn't fair either. Oh, how I wish for a car -any car. Even a worn-down, rusty car, I will take. But I don't get anything. It isn't fair; nothing in life is fair. But that's just the way it is.