Finding Joy | Teen Ink

Finding Joy

August 24, 2012
By RaisaMiri SILVER, Bethel Park, Pennsylvania
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RaisaMiri SILVER, Bethel Park, Pennsylvania
5 articles 0 photos 21 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Do not try. Do or do not. There is no try." ~ Yoda


Author's note: This started out as a short story I had to write for a Creative Writing class in school, but it was, alas, not short at all! So I decided to expand it (just a little bit) into novel form. Hope you enjoy it! :)

“Oh, look! It’s my favorite person, coming to Art class!” Spencer called from the back of the Art room. I rolled my eyes and attempted to ignore the catcalls I knew would be coming. It didn’t work so well.

“C’mon, Witch! Don’t you have a spell to use on us today?” Spencer cried.

I whirled around. “Say one thing more, and I’ll cast a spell that’ll give you all a black eye and a bloody nose!”

Ms. Edmunds chose that exact moment to enter her classroom.

“Why, Joy!” she exclaimed, “I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again!” Damn Ms. Edmunds and her lateness.

But she was a pushover, so, instead of a detention, I was told to sit in the hall for the period. The only upside of this punishment, other than not having another detention added to my record, was that I was free from Spencer’s comments and cajoling for an entire class. Which was a lucky break in itself.

I sat in the hall alone, my personal sketchpad and drawing pencils spread across the desk. I was trying desperately to finish a sketch for the school’s annual art contest, which I’d only just recently gotten the courage to enter. Today though, I couldn’t find the focus. My mind kept drifting to other topics, mostly to Spencer’s ‘witch’ comments.

Those comments were a recent development in the ongoing war between Mr. Popular and The Freak. They’d begun one unfortunate day when I had the terrible idea to bring a book I absolutely loved to school. It was a fantasy novel, where fairytale characters were forced to blend into our world after theirs was destroyed. The book was a bit like the TV series ‘Once Upon A Time’. It was phenomenal, one of my all-time favorites, but the unfortunate part was the wicked witch.

In the story, the wicked witch adapted by dressing more or less like I usually did, a mixture of Goth and Emo. Once Spencer found that lovely bit of information, I was forever dubbed the Wicked Witch of Boulder High School. Or just ‘Witch’, for short.

God, with a lame insult like that, you would think we were still in elementary school, instead of our sophomore year of high school.

But, then again, Spencer and I had known and hated each other since middle school. I guess old, childish habits die hard. Especially when your archenemy has every class with you.

Normally, if I had to spend every school day with Spencer Blake in all my classes, I would just march on through the insults and occasionally make a smart remark or threat here or there. This year, however, I had my favorite class, Art, last period with him. That threw a whole other spin on the ball game.

Art was my passion. I adored flicking colors across a page, crafting lifeless paper into animated figures, and knitting a scene together through pencil strokes. I especially enjoyed Art class as my last period because it helped me unwind from a stressful day. It prepared me for heading home to a house that could never really be my home.

Most days, anyways.

But lately, Spencer had taken to pissing me off in Art, having figured out that it was the one class I truly enjoyed. I’d gotten in more trouble with Ms. Edmunds than I ever had in the previous year because of him. Sometimes, all it took was a little comment made at the beginning of the period for me to snap. Like I had today.

Luckily for Spencer, I was making a library stop before home, so I had one last chance at peace. Then, I would enter the rough-and-tumble world of a house filled to the brim with six kids, excluding myself.

If I hadn’t been planning on going to the solitude of the library, Spencer really would’ve ended up with a black eye and bloody nose. His four best friends who always enjoyed watching him torment me also would’ve gotten them.

The end-of-the-day bell interrupted my thoughts. Quickly, I snapped my pencils into their special case and shoved them and the sketchpad in my book bag. The bag was slung over my shoulder in seconds, and despite most people constantly wanting to avoid me, I managed to slip into the steady stream of people without too much fuss.

I’d disappeared in the crowd before Spencer had even reached Ms. Edmunds’ door.


Two minutes later, in the school parking lot, I approached my battered, ancient, black Jeep. I’d hardly had it for a year, since I’d bought it on my sixteenth birthday.

It was most definitely not a sports car or even a new car. I had bought it used with the two front seats slightly ripped up and the rearview mirror hanging on only by duct tape. However much disrepair it was in, my Jeep served its purpose. It took me to and from school, the beach, the library, my house, and my job at Becky’s Ice Cream Shoppe.

My Jeep was my best friend.

My book bag plopped into the passenger seat, and I slipped my school Parking Permit in the glove compartment. I climbed onto the driver’s seat. Bending over, I pulled my old library books from under the seat on the passenger side. To my immense relief, they were all still there.

It still annoyed me to no end that I had no proper place to keep my library books. I shared the room at my house with three of the other children that lived there, so there was no way they would be safe in “my” room. The locker at school was too small with all my schoolbooks in there. And there was no possible chance of me carrying them around in my book bag all day. I’d learned from that mistake. So, the only somewhat secure place left was under the seat in my Jeep.

Feeling suddenly disgruntled, I eased out of the parking lot, eager for the peace and quiet Boulder Public Library offered. Sadly, the ride there wasn’t as peaceful as I’d hoped.

“Aw, how cute! The Witch even has a black broomstick to match her black heart!”

I’d reached a red light a block from the library, right next to the boardwalk that led to one of California’s many beaches. As usual, tons of kids from school were already there or on their way to the refreshing after-school escape. One of the groups heading to the beach was at the corner right next to my car. The comment had come from that group, from one of my least favorite people, next, of course, to Spencer.

It had come from Lily Stockten, Spencer’s girlfriend.

Mustering a fake smile, I glared right at her and said, in a mocking, singsong voice, “Aw, how cute! The Barbie even comes with removable accessories! Hope you don’t have to wait too long for Ken to come and give you a ride.”

I’d basically just called Lily a whore, but it was the truth. I don’t know if there was a guy in our school she hadn’t gone out with yet.

The light changed to green, and I left Lily spluttering on the street corner. I hadn’t sped away fast enough, though, to miss Spencer’s friends talking about him.

His wingman, Johnny, asked no one in particular, “When is Spencer supposed to get here anyway?” Hearing that, it made me suddenly the tiniest bit nervous.

Whenever Spencer wasn’t with his friends, it meant he was up to something. That something was usually very bad for me.


Finally, I reached Boulder Public Library. I held my old books to my chest, with my book bag slung across my shoulder once again. I didn’t trust myself to leave it in the Jeep. With my luck, the sky would suddenly pour down rain and ruin all my assignments.

I shut my phone off as I approached the front desk. A genuine smile spread across my face when I saw who was tapping away at the computer behind it.

“Hey, Nancy!” I called, almost forgetting to use a whisper. We were, after all, still in the library.

“Oh, hey, Joy!” Nancy looked up as I approached, and, with a sly wink, she added, “How’d you do on that Chem. test today?”

I let out a groan. Rolling my eyes, I replied, “Ugh, I swear she didn’t teach us half of what she put on that test!” Nancy just laughed and began checking in my books.

Nancy was one of the few people I actually liked from school. She was a year younger than me, a freshmen, but she was extremely intelligent and already taking many higher-level classes. Like Chemistry Honors, with me. She was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, with not a detention on her record. But, Nancy loved books and art and was a social outcast in her upper-classmen course, also like me. Since Spencer made sure no one from our grade befriended me and no upper-classmen would even look at Nancy, we’d, naturally, bonded.

Finished checking in my books, Nancy sighed almost with admiration and looked up at me, chin resting in her hands.

“I don’t know how you do it, Joy,” she said, the admiration clearly leaking through this time. “You’re in detention all the time ‘cause of your fights with Spencer, but somehow you still manage to get near-perfect grades in school, hold a job, help out your family at home, relax at the beach every other day, and enter amazing projects in every art show that comes along. Not to mention you still apparently have the time to read five good-sized novels in three days!”

All I could think was Nancy really shouldn’t look to me as a role model. If she did, she’d end up in a never-ending war with the Spencer Blake of her grade.

But, I just smiled and shrugged. “Really, Nance, it’s nothing. See ya in five minutes, okay?”

Nancy waved and went back to tapping away on her computer, while I headed off to the Young Adult section. Even though school had just let out, I couldn’t afford to spend much time browsing for books. It was the twins’ birthday, and I had to get home to help set up for their party. At five, the house would be crawling with six and seven-year-olds, and I knew it wouldn’t be calm again until early tomorrow morning, which was a Saturday, which meant I had to work.

All these lovely thoughts ran through my head as I pulled books from the shelves. I stopped when I picked up my sixth book, knowing I wouldn’t be able to read more than six since some were pretty thick.

I was organizing the books in my hands to carry them better when I heard the rustling behind me. For an instant, I froze, but I quickly snapped out of it. I whirled around, expecting Nancy to be behind me attempting to pull a prank or something like that.

There was no one in the aisle with me.

I quickly glanced down the adjoining aisles, but the library appeared deserted. Spooked and thinking it could’ve been Spencer, I checked my books out immediately, not even bothering to joke with Nancy like I usually did.

Rushing out into the parking lot, I still had the odd feeling that someone was watching me. Suddenly, screaming six-year-olds looked very inviting.


The keys to my Jeep were exchanged for the keys to my house as I climbed the front steps to my porch. From the outside, the house seemed huge, airy, and inviting, but on the inside, it was crowded, filled with junk, and not the least bit comfortable or cozy.

Still, a small smile managed to creep onto my face as the twins and the other younger kids flung the door open before I could even get the key in the lock. I scooped the twins into my arms, and they pressed themselves to me in an air-crushing hug, grinning up at me the whole time.

“Happy Birthday, you guys!” I managed to whisper to them with what little air I had left in my lungs.

At that moment, Mrs. Linden appeared in the doorway. The other kids scattered back into the house quicker than I thought possible. I set the twins back on the ground, and they disappeared too.

Mrs. Linden had chestnut-brown hair that was slowly graying. She was dressed up very nicely for two six-year-olds’ party, but her usually kind hazel eyes were strained. She’d been worrying too much about how the party would turn out.

And worrying made her irritable.

“Oh, good. Joy, I’m so glad you’re home.” She sounded tired.

“Nice to see you too, Laura.” I refused to call Laura – or Mrs. Linden when she was in a bad mood – ‘Mom’.

“Since you were a bit late, I had Sam and Scarlet start the set-up. You just have to finish what they started, okay?”

What she really meant was since they were only eight and nine, they’d done a somewhat-okay job, and first I would have to re-do everything they did. Then, I could finish setting up. But then Laura would probably make me run out and buy some last minute supplies, and she would get pissed when I wasn’t back before the first guest got here.

Instead of my smart mouth answering, I just nodded and tried to brush past her into the house to get started. But Laura had one last thing to update me on.

“Oh, and your father won’t be home ‘til later, so…” She trailed into silence.

I fixed my foster mother with a glare and coolly replied, “That man is not my father.” Then, I swept past her into a house that wasn’t mine either.

The author's comments:
Chapter 3's not finished, but I posted what I had of it since I didn't have enough words to meet the minimum with the first two chapters. I'll finish it soon, promise!

During the twins’ party, I tried hard to be polite around Laura, since I really loved the twins and didn’t want to ruin their day. They were foster kids, like me. With them, I always put a happy façade up to hide the fact that my life really sucked. I wanted the twins to believe that, even though they didn’t have their real family, they could still live a full, enjoyable life. Which was, in reality, the exact opposite of mine.

Somehow, I survived the night without incident and even managed to get a decent amount of sleep. I had to work in Becky’s shop the next day, and she wanted me in by eight-thirty, despite the fact that her shop didn’t even open until nine.

I knew Becky just wanted me to help her set up before opening, but still. Most Saturdays, I tried not to wake up before eleven.

Sadly, it was seven o’clock when I woke up. I rolled out of bed, slightly groggy and giving a silent groan so as not to wake the other three kids I shared my room with.

I crept down the hall, and in the kitchen, munched through a soggy breakfast of Kix cereal and milk. I still was half-asleep when I padded back to the bedroom and, ever so slowly, changed into my work uniform. I’d have to ask Becky if I could get some coffee or something before the shop got really busy.

My work clothes consisted of khakis, a bright blue T-shirt with ‘Becky’s Ice Cream Shoppe’ inscribed in white thread, and a visor that matched the shirt. Pulling my hair out of my face for work annoyed me, and I absolutely despised the fact that the bright blue clashed with the red stripes in my black hair. But, I couldn’t complain much, since I was paid well for the title of “Official Sundae Constructor”.

Becky was also the nicest manager anyone could ask for. From what I’d heard about other people’s bosses (mainly Nancy’s), Becky was a rainbow in a sky of thunderclouds.

Once my real mother’s necklace was secured around my neck and my name tag pinned to my shirt, I was ready to go. The Jeep’s key made a slight ‘clink’ when I grabbed it and the house key from the dresser. I froze, expecting a kid to wake up at the sound.

Surprisingly enough, none of them did. The party last night had been pretty wild for them to be that tired, I guess.



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on Nov. 29 2012 at 8:04 pm
RaisaMiri SILVER, Bethel Park, Pennsylvania
5 articles 0 photos 21 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Do not try. Do or do not. There is no try." ~ Yoda

to anyone who's read what's up so far, if it seems a bit choppy, i'm sorry...i'm rewriting the first chapter or so to make everything make a bit more sense, so hopefully i can put that up soon...thanks! :)