rissy stories

Hey guys,

Here is part 2 of the story I’ve been working on for a while. Go ahead and check out part 1 before you read this or else you won’t really understand the rest.

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Van

Van remained frozen in his seat as he stared into the dark hallway, hearing heavy footsteps sounded from the other end of the hallway. He gulped, his Adams Apple bobbing up and down as he did so. Then he felt a swift hit to the back of his head as he heard Brynn cry:

“No!” while she ran towards the backdoor and yelled out Ripley’s name. Ms. Lowell laid the hand that she hit him with on his shoulder and leaned down so Brynn couldn’t hear her ask:

“How the hell you gonna bail outcha folks without Ripley?” Van shrugged her hand off and licked his dry lips as he remained silent and mentally prepared himself to face Brynn’s wrath. Apparently she had been listening from the top of the basement steps – she was a mini-Ripley-in-training. She was practically teacher’s pet; it was Brynn’s way of getting Ripley to loosen the leash on her. While Ellison rebelled against the enemy, Brynn kissed a** and kept her enemy closer. After several seconds of silence, they heard the backdoor slam shut and Brynn bound into the kitchen, her thick legs and feet stomping on the tile floor and her long, wavy brown hair swaying all the way down to past her already-large breasts.

“What did you do?!” she asked angrily. Van sat with his jaw hung open, not really knowing what to say or what to think. He honestly didn’t think Ripley would leave.

“They were arrested for domestic violence charges and coke?” he asked, wondering where they got the money to score it. Brynn walked up and smacked him upside the head.

“You’re such a dumba**,” Brynn scowled. “Can you even comprehend how colossal of a f*** up that was? We have no chance of getting them back without Ripley,” she yelled as Van abruptly stood up from his chair, the force knocking it backwards, and it landed on the kitchen floor where Ms. Lowell had jumped out of the way – no longer bothering to shut them up.

“You don’t think I know that?” he yelled, approaching Brynn and rubbing his head where he was hit twice. He paused when she actually started looking afraid of him. “She’ll be back,” he replied confidently, breathing hard and trying to calm down so he didn’t hit her back. Brynn didn’t look convinced, but he nodded at her. “She’ll be back,” he repeated.

Brynn looked around the kitchen and shook her head. Her nose was stuck up in the air, like she thought she was better than him. Her brown eyes scanned the brown cabinets above and below the white counters where crumpled sugar and Splenda packets were sprawled around the coffee maker along with tiny bits of white particles. The black fridge was tall, sitting in the opposite corner of the kitchen, and it was covered in pictures of Ms. Lowell’s dog (that was currently crated) and three cats (who were currently sleeping somewhere else within the household). Ms. Lowell clearly wasn’t a very social woman, and this Hazeldine mess had to have been driving her crazy. Brynn finally looked back at Van, who was seething at his little sister.

“Yeah, sure Van, keep telling yourself that,” Brynn said, looking over at Ms. Lowell, who was in her violet silky nightgown and pink slippers, staring at the two of them in silence and sipping on her coffee. As much as she loved these kids like they were her own, she couldn’t deny how much they were turning into their parents. Van pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Then he looked at Brynn and pointed to the hallway.

“Go back to bed,” he said. Brynn scoffed and put her hands on her hips.

“Really? You’re gonna tell me what to do now?” she asked. He attempted to stare through her soul with his harmless, light blue eyes while she narrowed her own eyes on him and shook her head. “Your Ripley impersonation isn’t fooling anyone,” she snapped and stormed out of the kitchen. Neither is yours b****, he thought as he lowered his arm once she was out of sight, turned to Ms. Lowell, and placed his hands on the back of a kitchen chair.

“I’ll be back for them in the morning,” he said in a panic and then ran out as Ms. Lowell called out to him in protest. He was already out the back door before she could even finish his name, and then he was running through the snow, re-soaking the dry spots on the bottom of his jeans. He sprinted around the house as fast as he could in the snow, shivering in the freezing weather, his mind reeling. There was no way he was going to track down Ripley, not after she abandoned them like that. Who was she to act all high and mighty? But if what she said was true, then there was no way he’d be able to keep his parents from doing prison time, let alone bail them out before trial. And if Ripley wasn’t willing to adopt the kids, then they’d all be thrown in foster care. “The f*** am I doing,” he asked himself angrily as he reached the shoveled sidewalk and sprinted further down the street, towards the woods at the dead end.

He slipped on ice a few times but managed to keep his composure as he jumped back into the snow, branches breaking off on his bare arms as he pushed past them, slowing down as he reached the hill. He made his way down the rocky, snowy, and twiggy hill until he reached the bottom and then ran out onto another street full of houses, the streetlights lighting his way. He passed two houses on his right and left before he veered to the right – the third house down. It was another shabby, one-story house. He pulled back the screen door and began pounding on the white front door with peeled paint.

“Ida – Idamae, open up, it’s me,” he called frantically, his teeth chattering and his arms bleeding from the branch scratches. He slammed his fists against the door relentlessly, tears blurring his vision from the cold and anger. “IDA, LET ME IN!” he screamed before he finally heard someone unlock the door from inside the house. He backed up as the door swung open, revealing a short, black-haired girl with spider-bite piercings and no pants on. Her black underwear blended in with the dark background and a cigarette hung from her mouth, her eyes puffy and dark from smeared makeup. Her skin was pale white and her long-sleeved purple t-shirt was thin. Van noticed that her nipples hardened when she was hit in the face with a breeze after opening the front door. She squinted at the heavy-breathing five foot five kid, grabbed her cigarette with two fingers, and blew smoke in his face.

“Holy s*** Van, you’re gonna give my ancient neighbors a stroke. You know what time it is?” she asked. Van pushed past her and walked inside her heated home. He turned on her living room light by flicking a switch on the wall and then stood before the back of her ash-tray of a couch as she turned around to look at him with a confused expression. He ran a hand over his fuzzy hair and stared into her tired, but slightly concerned eyes. “This ain’t a booty call, is it? Cause I told you I ain’t sleepin’ witchu til you turn seventeen now that I’m eighteen,” she reminded him with a cocked hip. He frantically shook his head.

“My parents were just arrested again, but for coke,” he said helplessly as he rang his hands together. Her eyes widened slightly, fully awake and alert now. She normally never let people inside her house after midnight, but she rarely saw Van stressed out, so the fact that he showed up at her doorstep after running through the snow without a coat on at three in the morning ringing his hands together wasn’t a good sign. She gave him a sympathetic, concerned look and nodded understandingly. Her long, blood red dreadlocks bounced over her shoulders as she turned around to shut the door and lock it. She turned back around, put out her cigarette on the side table next to the door and walked over to Van, her feet barefoot and her black nail polish standing out against the tan carpet with trash all over it.

“Your sisters?” she asked softly as she placed a hand on the back of his neck.

“Neighbor’s, but Ripley split,” he said. She raised her finely waxed eyebrows.

“She split? I find that hard to believe,” she said and Van shrugged her off, turning to the right and walking around to the front of the couch, feeling too finicky. Her voice was especially velvety tonight – it was usually more sweet right after she woke up.

“Well, believe it, ‘cause I have no clue how I’m gonna get my parents outta doing prison time. We’re all gonna end up in the system, which means that my sisters’ll get split up and I don’t get out for two to three years!” he yelled and shivered. Idamae muttered “okay, okay” and put out her hands, her palms facing the floor, as she walked around the couch and grabbed a brown blanket. She threw it around Van’s shoulders while up on her tippy toes and then she wrapped it around him, holding the two ends of the blanket in front of his chest for him to hold. He stared at her, grabbed it out of her hands, and then leaned his forehead down against her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him.

“You’ll figure this out,” she replied reassuringly. He slightly pulled away from her.

“I thought you said no sex,” he asked. She scoffed and looked up at him with green eyes gleaming underneath her smeared black eyeliner and mascara.

“Since when is a hug considered sex?” she asked with a smirk. He smiled and she released him, “I can always get you to smile,” she remarked proudly. He lightly tugged on a dreadlock and sighed, plopping down on her grey couch with cigarette burns all over it. Idamae joined up and they stared ahead of them in silence. Ida’s small house was a disaster to say the least. Given that a s***** apartment actually costs more in Harrisburg than a s***** house – she went with the house, but all it gave her was a little more room to leave her stuff everywhere. There was dirty laundry scattered all over the floor along with chips and cheetos. Her small, old school TV was sitting on top of a small TV stand in front of the couch, right before the tan wall behind it. The wall cut off the “living” space to the “dining” space as it extended past the corner, where the TV sat. It stopped a few feet past the TV, and past it was a mini-dining-room with brown, rectangular table and a set of windows with no drapes. Drapes weren’t exactly needed since the window wasn’t facing the road, and since there were no chairs to sit on, Ida always just ate on the couch. Facing the dining room head-on, there was a doorway to the left that led into the dark kitchen, which eventually led to the hallway with the bedrooms. Not a horrible set up for an eighteen-year-old high school dropout who works at the Walmart two blocks away.

“It’s not gonna be as easy to sneak over here when I’m in foster care,” he said solemnly. Ida took a deep breath, leaned her head on his shoulder, and fiddled with his shirt.

“Who says you’re gonna end up back in the system?” she asked.

“My parents were just arrested for coke. They’re gonna have to do time, and Ripley’s being selfish by not adopting us to keep us all together when she turns eighteen,” he complained, leaning his head on top of hers. Her scent was a strange combination of lavender and tequila, and he felt more at home with that scent than he did anywhere else. She looked confused at his statement and then lifted her head up to look at him.

“Do you have any idea how much it sucks to have a dependent? You got a baby sister who is one. You honestly think Ripley wants to take on bein’ a legal guardian for seventeen more years of her life when she’s just granted her independence? Nah, I don’t think so,” Ida lectured with a shake of her head. Van pushed Ida away halfway through her speech, hunched over, and leaned his elbows on his knees. He ran his hands over his hair and lowered his head.

“Even though we’re not technically boyfriend-girlfriend, you’re supposed to be on my side, Ida,” he said. She rolled her eyes – he was cute, but an idiot. She reached over to the side table next to the couch, where there was an open, quarter-filled bottle of beer lying on top of it. She took a swig, then cringed at the flatness of the beverage as she put it back on the side table. She looked back to Van who was still leaned over with his head in his hands.

“Look, first off, technically, we’re datin’, right? It’s just not exclusive or serious. I don’t wanna be tied down to a commitment until I’m at least in my mid-twenties, you got it?” she explained. Van nodded with his head still in his hands, looking down at the floor. He always admired her bluntness and promiscuity. She belched and then patted his back. “Alright, and second, I don’t take sides when it comes to family disasters. You’re the one who showed up at my door at three in the f***in’ mornin’, so if you don’t like what I have to say, then you can always just leave,” she added. Van finally looked over at her with dead blue eyes and leaned back on the couch. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, and he scanned her features. Her nose and lips were the perfect size and everything about her was proportional. How could he stay angry at this girl? He took her hand in his and squeezed, wondering why her parents would ever disown her simply because she wasn’t school-smart.

“I don’t want to leave,” he whispered, looking back down at his lap. She looked at his jawline and noticed that his blonde beard was starting to grow in again. It was nice and smooth a couple days ago, and she normally hated beards, but his were always soft instead of scraggly and rough, like it appeared to be. She reached up and touched it gently with her nail-polish chipped finger tips. Then she yawned and playfully punched his shoulder.

“You can hide out here for the next couple days, but I gotta get some sleep,” she said, standing up and holding out her hand to him – inviting him to come to bed with her.

“But what am I gonna do about my parents?” he asked. She sighed, secretly hoping he had forgotten about that, and sat back down.

“Don’tchu think it’d be better for your sisters if they were in the system instead of growin’ up in your house? I mean, Christ Van, if someone knocked on your door and offered Melvin and Babette a grand or more for Hads, I think they’d hand her right over and you’d never see her again. That kid may have a better chance at a life if she’s adopted by someone else,” she explained. Van just looked at her, slowly shaking his head from side to side with disbelief and anger. Who was she to tell him what was best for his family? Who was SHE – someone who had never been in the system – to tell him that foster homes were better?

“And what about me? Brynn? El? Kids who are too old for anyone to wanna adopt? What happens to us?” Van asked, pointing to his reddened chest. His neck was pulsing with veins and the redness was spreading upwards. His face was already starting to turn pinkish. His eyes were bulging and Ripley-like, and he was inching closer and closer to Ida on the couch, so much, in fact, that she was beginning to inch away.

“You’re all scrappy, you’ll manage,” she replied, starting to look extremely uncomfortable. Her shoulders were beginning to hunch over and her eyes kept shifting from the look on his face to her own lap. She pushed a dreadlock that was hanging in front of her face behind her left ear, which revealing an eyebrow, cartilage, earlobe, and tragus piercings. Then she dug her nails into the couch. She could take a lot of things, and she prided herself on not taking anyone’s crap, but he looked like he was about to hit her.

“What makes you think you know anything about my family?” he asked next. She finally made full eye contact with him again and leaned into him so close that her nose was barely touching his. She stared into his eyes, her upper lip twitching, all of her fear gone.

“Oh what, you think I just ignore you when you’re constantly yappin’ about ‘em ta me?” she yelled. “And if you’re just gonna sit here and yell at me for tryin’ to help your sorry a**, then you can kindly get the f*** outta my house!” Ida yelled, suddenly standing up and pointing towards the door. “Get out!” she repeated. Van stood up with her, his fists clenched.

“You think that ‘cause your parents threw you out on the street at eighteen that you get what I’m going through and that you think you know what’s best for me?” he slowly began to back her up around the couch and towards the front door. “Well guess what, they had a right to throw you out, that’s what happens when you become an adult – I’m not even eighteen, but I’m still getting kicked out!” he yelled. Ida grabbed the thin part of the beer bottle sitting on the side table behind her and held it firmly in her right hand while being backed up by Van.

“F*** you,” she scowled, shaking the beer bottle at him, the last of the contents spilling onto her sleeves and dripping to the floor. “Dontchu ever talk about my family again – where I come from has nothin’ to do with you!” she screamed. Van kept pushing the beer bottle out of his face and he eventually charged at her. He took her by the shoulders and slammed her up against the front door. She dropped the beer bottle with a loud gasp as the back of her head bounced off the door and he towered over her. He may have only been fifteen, almost sixteen, but he was already built, and she was short. This unfortunately wasn’t the first time.

“Well you feel like you can say whatever you want about my family, yet, I don’t have permission to return the favor?” he asked angrily. Ida glared at him, her palms sweaty.

“You’re the one comin’ to me with your problems. Back the f*** off,” she warned.

“Yeah? Or what?” he asked, inches away from her face. She remained silent and they just glared at each other for the next several seconds, breathing heavy through their mouths. Van then looked into her eyes and saw something different than what he usually saw in girls that he’d fought with in the past. She didn’t look boiling mad, teary-eyed, or scared s***less – she just looked exhausted. Almost like she’d been yelled at so much over the years that she was just done – done crying, fighting back, or running away. Like she was tired of people like Van treating her like garbage. He could almost mistake her smeared makeup for a black eye.

“What is it Van, what do you want?” she asked quietly, interrupting his own thoughts. He let go of her shoulders and backed away, staring at the door behind her and shaking his head at the idea that he was turning exactly into his father – someone who’s constantly angry. Someone who constantly feels like they need to be the one in control.

“I’m sorry Ida,” he apologized unexpectedly. She raised her eyebrows.

“You’re sorry?” she asked. He nodded and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah,” he answered pathetically. She scoffed and shook her head at him.

“I ain’t doin’ this no more,” she said, putting her hands behind her back and leaning back on them against the front door.

“What’re you saying?” he asked worriedly. She narrowed her eyes on him, suddenly coming up with an idea.

“You got any 18 or older family members outside your house that live ‘round here?” she asked suddenly. He looked taken aback, thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah, Babs’s sister lives over on Hillside,” he replied. She shrugged.

“That’s your answer. You get her to adopt y’all, then you’re golden. Plus, you may even get to move to a nicer neighborhood than this s***hole,” she said with disgust. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at the floor in slight shame of not being able to think of that himself – she may not have been school-smart, but she was definitely street-smart.

“But what about you?” he asked, looking back up at her.

“What about me?” she retorted.

“Are we… I mean, are we still gonna stay together?”

“Van, we were never really together.”

“Please don’t…” he stopped. “Don’t act like you don’t give a s*** about me.”

“I do, but you don’t wanna be with me,” she explained, pointing to herself. “You said it yourself – look-a-me! I’m an 18-year-old high school dropout who works at a Walmart on the south side of Harrisburg and lives in a slum of a house. You’re a sophomore with decent grades and a chance to get a scholarship at some college for wrestlin’. You don’t wanna stick ‘round here with me! That’s not what I want for you,” she said.

“But I can take you with me,” he said broken-heartedly, already knowing what she was going to say next before it even came out of her mouth.

“You can’t sweep me off my f***in’ feet one day like I’m some princess, cause I’m not. And you’re gonna end up resentin’ me for wastin’ your time once you get outta here ‘n find someone better,” she added. He stood frozen, not knowing what to do or what to say. He didn’t know how to put into words how wrong she was. She bit her lip piercings again and shrugged. “You ain’t my knight in shinin’ armor, and I ain’t your happy ever after. Go to your aunt, work somethin’ out, and only come to see me if you wanna have a good time. ‘Cause that’s really all I can give you,” she finished explaining, folding her arms over chest and looking down at her feet.

“You’re better than a good time, Ida,” he said sincerely, knowing that she wouldn’t believe him, but needing to say it anyways. She looked back up at him.

“Thing is, Van, I’m not,” she replied, as expected. “You can ride out the rest of the night on the couch, but I’m kickin’ you out in a few hours when I go to work,” she added as she walked past him. However, before she could get very far, he grabbed her arm, turned her around, swooped down, and kissed her. She tried pulling away at first, but he held her firm in his arms. He placed his hand on her dreadlocks and held her close to his chest as he tasted her vanilla chapstick. She put her hands on his shoulders leaned into him, kissing him back gently, before they both let go of each other and then stared at one another in silence.

“I lo-” he started, but she placed a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t,” she said and then back away, “Just don’t.” she added before turning around and walking around the white pillar and into the dark kitchen, which led to her bedroom. He watched after her for a few seconds, then kicked the couch next to him as hard as he could. He covered his eyes with his hand, even though no one was around to see him tear up from the pain. He placed his other hand on the top of the couch and leaned up against it as his face scrunched up. He thought he heard footsteps behind him, but turned around and saw nothing through blurry vision. Meanwhile, Idamae was secretly watching him in the darkness of her kitchen with tears running down her cheeks. She watched him as he moved a large pillow to the arm of the couch and spread the blanket out across the couch for him to sleep on. He then walked around the couch and turned the living room light off. At this, Ida tip toed back to bed.

xxx

Six hours later, Idamae, with her long, red dreadlocks pulled back in a large ponytail behind her head, walked through the lit kitchen and into the living room, where Van was still passed out on the couch, one arm hanging over the edge and the other underneath the pillow. She sighed in her white t-shirt and navy blue vest. She rubbed her clammy calms on her tan kakis and furrowed her eyebrows, jonesing for a cigarette. Her ears, eyebrow, and lips were full of tiny holes as all of her piercings had been removed. Her eyes were now completely makeup-less, which made her look paler. She just stood there and watched him silently for a moment. He was snoring, his mouth open, drooling onto the grey pillow beneath his head. The blanket was barely hanging off of him – he must’ve kicked it off during the night. He was now in his boxers, his wrestling t-shirt and jeans lied in a crumpled pile next to the couch. She raised her shoulders as she took a deep breath and walked towards him, her sneakers making the floor creak beneath her. She leaned down and flicked his ear. He jolted awake.

“What the f***, Ida?” he asked angrily as he jumped off the couch and rubbed his ear. She looked at him with raised eyebrows and hands on her hips.

“It’s 9:30, time to get up and get out,” she said. He started pulling on his jeans.

“Fine by me, everything in this house reeks,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“And your house doesn’t?” she asked. He shot her a glare as he threw on his t-shirt.

“You know, I knew you could be a bitch,” he said. “I just never thought you’d be like that to me,” he added. She scowled at him and walked to the front door, turning the knob aggressively, and swinging it open. She felt a cold breeze hit her in the face.

“Goodbye,” she growled. He stepped into his sneakers and brushed past her as he opened the screen door, then let it swing shut in her face as he walked back out into the snow. She jumped back and watched him leave. She grabbed a black sweatshirt off of the hook right next to the door and threw it on as Van’s shoes scrunched the snow beneath his feet. He glanced behind him for a second as he made it to the sidewalk and they locked eyes. She gave him the finger and he gave one back, heading left, down the street. He suddenly heard her home phone ringing from inside the house, and the front door slamming shut right after the first ring. He lowered his hand, shivered, and squinted against the sunlight as he took large strides to the woody hill he had ran down last night. He started sprinting up to it, his breath visibly huffing itself out between his clenched teeth and out of his mouth. He then began to tread up the hill, avoiding trees and rocks on his way up.

He pulled himself up and along, seeing nothing but red. Once he finally got to the top of the hill and back onto the dead end of his street, he started pacing and shivering. He weighed his options of what to do next and realized that he ultimately had two choices: go back to Ms. Lowell’s and face the siblings he abandoned… or find someone to take him straight to Hillside to visit his aunt. Visiting his parents was out of the question because he wouldn’t be able to bail them out, and he’d risk having to face social services. He figured that Brynn would end up not going along with the plan because God-forbid – Ripley wasn’t involved – so she wouldn’t let him go to Hillside anyways. There was no way he was going to be able to take control with Brynn and Ripley, so he reached into his pocket, thankfully pulled out $15.00, then ran down his street with the intention of heading downtown to a bus stop.