Traveling Feet | Teen Ink

Traveling Feet

January 17, 2011
By ChrisAngel SILVER, Chicago, Illinois
ChrisAngel SILVER, Chicago, Illinois
9 articles 12 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
A good friend will bail you out of jail, but a true friend will be sitting next to you saying, "That was fun."

Boredom. Sitting at home on a Friday, waiting for something to happen. Not one of the greatest things to do with your life. But, hell, my life is summed up in that one word. At least tomorrow I’d be leaving on vacation. Puerto Rico is where I’m going. It might be one of my favorite places on Earth. Not sure though; there’s way too many places to be sure. I’m bored and I have plenty things to do before tomorrow, but I just don’t wanna do them. Anyone can understand. You have this whole list of goddamn chores you need to do, but by the end of the day all you’ve crossed off is the last one on the list that says, “Relax.” That’s America for you. But, yeah whatever. I knew what I had to do, but I took my laptop off of the pool table, plopped down on the corner seat of the coach, the only place in the apartment where I got WIFI, and opened up an internet browser. Quickly, I clicked onto Facebook to see if anything had changed in the last five minutes. Nope. I closed my computer with a soft sigh and stalked to my room to start packing my clothes.
I share a room with my three older sisters. I can say it’s not fun. It’s a goddamn pain in my ass. We moved into the apartment about eleven years ago and over the years we’ve grown and so have all the piles of crap. I climbed through our mountain of clothes, over the hills of stuffed animals until I made it to my suitcase. I grabbed the armful of clothing I had bought for my trip in one hand, my suitcase in another, and made my way out the room. I dropped all my stuff onto the floor and packed. I’m a really quick packer. I can take a whole bunch of stuff and fold all of it and still have room for more. But, I’m not one to brag.
I finished too quickly, so I figured I should pack my purse that I was gonna carry on the plane. I got my laptop and the charger that came with it. It was a shiny black laptop. I liked black things. I’m not a Goth or anything weird like that, I just like black. Everything matches with it, its suppose to be slimming, and it looks cool. I mean look at Dracula; he can definitely pull off the whole, “I’m evil and wearing a bunch of black, don’t I look cool” thing. The same thing should go for me (except for the evil part), I hope. That’s what I had mainly packed black and blue. I’m pretty sure only girls know the difference in shades of colors. Hey, I’ve never met a guy that can tell the difference between fuchsia and pink.
I picked a random book off my bookshelf without looking at the title and the blue digital camera next to it and put that next to my computer. Next I grabbed my wallet with my ID inside and all my cash and cards, double checking even after I was sure I had everything. Now all I need was a purse. Damn. That’s what I hate. You think you have everything but then you realize, oh I forgot, I don’t have a big enough purse. I glanced at the clock on the stove. Damn, my mother would be home soon.
“Hey!” I yelled to my sister. “I need a purse. You got one?”
“You’re not using it!” she yelled back.
“Then you’re taking me to the store.”
“I don’t have my car,” she replied. She frequently loaned her car to her boyfriend and never actually got it back from him.
“Then get it,” I snarled back.
I walked away before she could say anything. That’s the problem with only having sisters. Too many hormones. Sometimes I actually feel sorry for my dad. Five girls in the house must make him want to explode.
I ended up in front of the fridge where boredom usually takes me. I opened up the white fridge door. I took out the bottle of Royal Crown Cola and my leftovers from last night. My mother hadn’t wanted to cook so we had ordered from Bismarck, a kick ass fast-food joint a couple blocks off of our house. I ordered a double bacon cheeseburger with fries. As usually I couldn’t finish the burger just because it was so huge! It was about the size of a small head of cabbage. I popped it into the microwave for 45 seconds while I got myself a cup and ice and poured myself a cup of cola. I watched as the soda fizzed and began to turn brown again. The microwave dinged or whatever you wanna call it. Rang, popped, made some kind of sound, something. I pulled my food out, already steaming, cheese melting, bacon sizzling softly. I sat down on the wooden brown chair which creaked softly. Stupid chair. I tied back my long dark brown hair in a ponytail. I just can’t eat with my hair down. I always end up with some hair in my mouth. Ugh, just plain nasty. If I wanted to eat hair I would ask for hair on my sandwich, but I don’t so stay the hell away from my meat. I took my time eating my food, dragging out as much time as I could. At least I was doing something. I took out my very stupid Nokia cell phone and flipped through my messages. Nothing new to read so I played a game of Sudoku. I wanted to finish the entire hard level before school started, probably wouldn’t happen. I heard the front door open and automatically new it was my mother. I waited a couple minutes before I went to greet her. I wanted to wait until she was a tiny bit comfortable at least.
“Hey Mom,” I said cheerfully.
“You packed all your clothes?” she asked from the floor holding our dog, Chloe, in her hands. Chloe was a black and white Shi Tzu. She acted more like a person than a dog. Her favorite toy was a dark and light blue rope I had made out of the sleeves of an old winter shirt I had had. I had to hide it occasionally when I didn’t want to play with it. That was because she may be a dog, but she was a little cheater too. She would cross her feet over the rope so you wouldn’t be able to grab it. Cheater.
“Yes. But, I still need a purse.”
“Why don’t you use my white one with the G’s on it?”
I tried and failed to hide the disgust on my face. My mother owned this gigantic white bag that was more brown than white. It was absolutely hideous. I would rather take all my stuff in my hands, but no, that wouldn’t happen.
“Don’t give me that look,” she warned. “Then tell your sister to take you to Walmart or something.”
“I did,” I said. “She’s getting her car.”
My sister walked into the room and said, “Mom, my boyfriend’s coming over to pick me up so I can drop him off at his friend’s house so I can take her to get her purse.”
“Whatever. But she needs to wake up at three in the morning so have her home early.”
I wanted to tell my mother I was going to the store, not on a date. But I kept my mouth shut just in case she said I couldn’t go.
I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed my wallet off of the table and ran back to the living room. I sister was standing there waiting impatiently for me. We walked out of the apartment and into her car where her boyfriend was double parked. This was a white Toyota that looked like it was halfway in dead already. He started streaming on about how the dealer was being an ass and whatnot. I tuned him out until he got out and she moved over into his seat. I stood in the back because it was cleaner. We drove in silence to the nearest Walmart. I can hardly remember the ride. I do remember that it started raining, something I hated because I had just flat ironed my hair, which I do on a weekly basis.
When I stepped out the car, I immediately backtracked. Why the hell would she bring me here? I was standing outside a dilapidated building that read “Walmart: Where You Shop and Save.” A police car roared by as I stared at the decaying building emphasizing how horrible the neighborhood really was.
“You brought me to ghetto Walmart?”
“Mom said to be quick,” she said, hiking her purse higher onto her shoulder and walking inside.
Inside was much worse. Merchandise was stuffed into brown boxes and clothing was strewn all over the floor. People were talking loudly and others were fighting over some products they had run out of. Somewhere a baby was crying. I really don’t like when babies cry. I really don’t know if I even like babies that much in general. Sure they can be cute when they want to be, but there also sticky and dirty and they cry a lot.
“Go get what you need and quick.”
I walked hesitantly towards the purses. There were about ten purses on the rack and they were all very ugly. The best one was a shiny zebra print tote that was too small to hold even my book.
I sighed and started looking for my sister. All I wanted was to leave this place and never step foot in that store again.
“Were leaving,” I told her when I found her. “This place is horrible.”
She began to protest, but I was already walking to the car as kick as I could without actually running. She followed just as quickly and hopping into the car and speeding out of the lot. We found a Target closer to home that was still open and looked clean. Inside I found a blue tote big enough for my laptop and for all my other crap.
Later that night in bed I ran over my checklists in my head sure that I was forgetting something. I couldn’t remember. I was restless; too eager to waste time sleeping. I sat up and waited until it was time to get up and leave. I dressed quickly, not caring what I put on, just eager to leave. Outside it was pouring, water so thick I couldn’t see two feet in front of me. I can hardly remember the car ride to the airport or even the plane ride, my night of no sleep starting to weigh me down. I remember drinking a lot of Coke and the airplane being very very cold.
Puerto Rico is a beautiful place. I recommend that everyone try to at least go there once in their lives. The warm summer breeze brushed against my face as I searched for my grandparents through the crowds of eager pedestrians. When I spotted there smiling faces I hurried to their side giving them each a giant hug.
They each grabbed one of my hands and pulled me toward the car. My sleep deprivation was starting to make me feel a little hazy and all the Coke I drank was starting to hurt my stomach.
We got to my grandfather’s car; a silver and black Suzuki. It seemed that everyone in Puerto Rico owned a Suzuki. I lifted my heavy suitcase into the trunk of the car and went and sat in the backseat. My vision blurred and I fell asleep. I barely stirred when I was shaken awake by my grandmother what seemed like minutes later. I mumbled sleepily and walked shakily to my room. I collapsed into bed fully dressed.
When I awoke the first thing I noticed was the scent of pancakes in the air. I hurriedly brushed my teeth and showered throwing on any clothes I could reach. I reached the kitchen and sat in front of a large plate of steaming pancakes. I wolfed them down quickly, burning my tongue in the process. After eating I went outside to the blue hammock and lay down. Eating had exhausted me. Damn jetlag. When I awoke again, I realized I had fallen asleep, and it was already very dark out. I mumbled a curse and head to my room stopping a second to stare at the bright silvery moon that hung in the night sky. Maybe my sleeping pattern seriously needed modifications, but if I could see this view every night for the next month then I pretty sure my weekend and the jetlag was worth all the stars and planets and the large silvered moon that watched over me in the night. I just hoped I’d be awake the next day to see even better views.

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This article has 2 comments.

on Jan. 25 2011 at 8:14 pm
ChrisAngel SILVER, Chicago, Illinois
9 articles 12 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
A good friend will bail you out of jail, but a true friend will be sitting next to you saying, "That was fun."

thank you. Holden Caulfield was an inspiration for this. I wanted to look at my life like he looks at his world. :)

on Jan. 25 2011 at 7:58 pm
emilysbreakfast GOLD, Alto, Michigan
10 articles 0 photos 48 comments

you write like an updated, female version of Holden Caulfield. which i'm guessing you were inspired by. 

i really liked the ways that personality came through, with all the description of your family and everyday life and anger at the world and off-beat humor.  nice job (:

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