Breaking The Mirror [Edited And Complete]

Wednesdays

Our new neighbor doesn't get out much. Not that I mind, really. He's terrifies the crap out of me. Those dark, piercing eyes look like they know all my secrets. But he doesn't. He can't.

But anyway, he isn't important.

I completed Mr. Spencer's paper on the first day. It was actually quite easy and he seemed really impressed with me. He's way too nice. I don't really trust nice people, they always want something from you. At least in my experience, so no more lunchtime with Mr. Spencer. Wow, that sounds like a bad cooking program.

I happen to like Wednesday. I'm not in the house until about midnight since my dad has poker night. There's about seven or eight guys there, most of whom I barely even remember since the last time I saw them was when I was nine years old, but all of them have been - or should be - in jail for something. My dad even sells and does drugs sometimes. 

They've been doing this poker night thing since I was about four, but after five years of me being around, my dad decided he didn't want me dragging down his free time so I stay and walk around the mall since it's right across the street from our apartment building until it closes at eight o'clock. I've never bought anything from the mall. Ever. It's just the only place you can walk around and look at everything without seeming like a crazy homeless person or a loiterer.

After the mall, I go try to kill four more hours doing whatever I can. There's this place called Lakeside Bookstore really close to apartments and I go there sometimes, on these uneventful Wednesdays. It isn't next to a lake, which is just a little bit annoying. It fact, it's next to a Captain D's and a Hooters. Inside, a look around for an interesting book, grab one with a pretty cover without reading the back. That saying "never judge a book by it's cover" is stupid when it actually comes to books. The best ones usually have the best covers.

And if I've missed the next Harry Potter because of that theory, it's the publishing company's fault anyway for not putting a decent cover on a good book.

I sit down in an armchair next to a woman in a Hooters uniform. Pantyhose, orange shorts that are practically underwear and a skimpy white tank top. I look at her out of the corner of my eye and see she's reading a book that doesn't have pictures which means she reads for fun, and that means I'm thinking why the hell does she work at fucking Hooters? A little stereotypical, I know, but still.

She's spots me looking at her. I blush as I'm caught. Crap.

"I'm a lesbian," She says to me, and I blink, looking at her.

"I- um...yes, ma'am?" I say. Talking to girls confuses me, since I'm so used to saying 'Sir' after yes or no. Only one of my teachers is female, and I almost never have to address her. She looks at me, her long dirty-blond hair falling in front of her eyes.

"I saw you looking and I thought I'd curb your natural desire to ask me out on a date," She responds and I blink. Oh, I hadn't thought of her sexually at all.

"N-no! I didn't... I wasn't... I was just thinking about something is all... I wasn't –" This is why I don't fucking talk to people. I stutter and babble and lose control. 'Yes, sir' and 'No, sir' are so simple. She's screwed up my routine. She sort of sticks her bottom lip at in a 'Huh, you're telling the truth' kind of way and nods.

"Alright then, sorry I just blurted that out then," She cocks her head and raises an elegant, blond eyebrow, "What else where you thinking about me then?"

"I..." I don't want to talk anymore. Damn. Bookstores are supposed to be quiet. You're supposed to read, not talk. "Just wondering... um... why you're working at Hooters, I guess..."