A New Place

April 5, 2011
By , Tualatin, OR
There’s a window about eighty-two degrees from where I squat. A light is on, and a figure is walking by. I turn away and look at a rat that scurries towards me. Where I am is narrow and leaves little space for my long legs. But it’s quiet here, so I decide to stay. People hurry from place to place and pass by me, but don’t acknowledge my presence. There’s a rumbling in my stomach, and I’m pretty sure it’s not an ache. It’s roaring like a tiger. I try to take my mind off of it by thinking of what my mother must be cooking back at home. The sun starts to set, and I watch as an orange ray runs across the brick wall. I’m getting tired.

I use my jacket as a makeshift pillow, but now I’m cold. Sleep doesn’t come visit me often. But neither does any of my old friends or family. My eyes don’t close, so I just lie on the hard ground and remember how I got here. It wasn’t too much of a process, really. It was my choice to leave and stop being demanded by people I wasn’t acquainted to. They would tell me to write my name, as if they needed to be reminded every day. Father wasn’t quite happy about my decision, though. I wouldn’t forget this fact so often. All I had to do to remember was to roll up my sleeves. Jane stopped looking up to me as a brother. But that’s fine. I always looked down to her because I was so tall.

It was my mom that I would miss every now and then. I missed her wonderful cooking and how she forgave me for all the mistakes I’ve made. And I miss Natalie. I missed the way she strummed her guitar and sang along to Taylor Swift. She was my inspiration. But it was my job to leave her. She wouldn’t have gotten into the college she saw herself in since the age of thirteen if I stayed. She was my best friend.

It’s okay that I left. No one missed me, and I caused trouble at home. The food here is great! Left-over food in the dumps is usually my meal, if I’m lucky. I’ve also made friends with the rats. They haven’t been stealing my food or ruining my clothes. I think I made the right choice to come here. This alley is my home.

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SmellsLikeTeenWriter said...
Apr. 28, 2011 at 6:51 pm
This is a pretty good story...I like the personal, little details! They always make for a better story :)
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