The Problematic Life Of Alexis Hart

I was officially kicked out of my house. There was no other way of saying it, none at all. With Dad gone, I was pretty sure my step-mom would do this. I didn’t know it was so soon, I mean it was only a week since Dad died of the big C. So here I was at a diner, eating cold pizza with a can of coke, all alone in the corner while reading a book on my cell phone. I have always liked doing this, but right now, it was very hard to. My small backpack was giving me company, and I had kept my suitcase with Kristy, the diner-girl and also one of my closest friends. There were only a few books in my backpack – the rest were in the suitcase, many more in the house – and my toothbrush and paste. It was getting closer and closer to midnight and I had nowhere to go. It wasn’t like I didn’t have the money. I took all the money in my father’s wallet before my ‘mother’ could stop me. The catch-22 was I was just sixteen years old – about be seventeen on April the sixteenth which was four months away – and I was stranded in the middle of January.

Sure, I had my cardigan and my sweatshirt on me, but it was really, really, really cold outside. I didn’t want to sleep outside in a park and die of hypothermia or lose my fingers to frostbite. But I was at a dead end. Maybe I could ask Kristy if she would fix me up somewhere. She had connections, mainly, because of her particularly rich girlfriend, Alyssa Paisley, daughter of our Mayor. When I finally finished the pizza – all on my own, it’s a talent of mine – I went up to the counter, where Kristy stood looking at me with a rueful expression.

Before I could even say something, she said, “Don’t worry. You can stay at one of Alyssa’s apartments. It’s not far from here. She said that it’s stay-able and we both know that means it’s practically a five-star hotel.” She giggled and I gave a weak laugh. She put one hand on my shoulder. “Everything will be fine, Alex. Your dad must have given something to you in his will. When is the funeral?”

“Next week. Thursday.” I said in an abrupt manner. She nodded her head.

“My shift ends now. Go on and wait for me outside, okay?”

I smiled weakly. “Okay.”

True to her word, she came out five-minutes later wearing a blue A-line dress that stopped at mid-thigh, showing off her long olive legs. Her midnight black hair was tied in a pigtail across her back. She wore a leather jacket and a pair of knee-length boots to keep out the cold. I shivered as though on cue and crossed my arms in front of me. “Let’s go. Else I’ll freeze here.”

“Sure, let’s go, Anorexia.” She smirked at me as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. She had every right to call me that. I was very thin and flat-chested, thanks to my severe asthma. “It’s just across the avenue.”

She walked a few steps ahead of me, her legs taking longer strides than mine. I used to tease her that she might be half Amazonian rather than Latino when we were in seventh grade. Kristy was the only thing that had been constant in my ever-changing life. I breathed deeply when Dad’s face flashed in my mind. Tubes all around him as he took his last breath, his grip on my hand, so strong and so sure. So unlike his fate. They all said the truth: Good things rarely happened to good people. I don’t remember my Mom. She left when I was just two years old. For five years it was just me and my Dad. If I recall correctly, those five years were the best of my life. Then he met Valentina a.k.a the Bitch, and her daughter – my step-sister – Felicia. I think Dad took pity on them, as I haven’t ever seen him so much as kissing Valentina on the cheek. Since day one I knew my life was on a roller-coaster that only runs down and down. When I was in eighth grade, I had my first boyfriend, a guy named Dustin. I mean I don’t know why he was my boyfriend just that he had dimples. But after a month I caught him kissing Felicia. That night as I was lying sullenly on my bed, Felicia had entered the room.

“Oh poor Alexis,” she had said her voice dripping with mock-sympathy, “Your first boyfriend cheated on you with your own step sister. That must be so sad.” She’d looked at me and snickered. “Fortunately, no one wants flat chested anorexic nerds. Everyone needs one apple blossom or two.”

I still have that snicker painted in my memory.

I never said, my Dad, anything about this or how Valentina made me do all the dirty work around the house. I didn’t want anyone to know how much of a pathetic Cinderella I was. Dad had enough to worry about already. Valentina didn’t work and she was a shopaholic, and he had work very hard to provide equally for everyone. It wasn’t much of a surprise that I was kicked out of my own house the very next day my father died. I wondered if Valentina would finally start working or just start selling away Dad’s things. This filled me with white-hot rage. I needed to go back to the house and bring the rest of my books and some of my Mom and Dad’s things.

When we crossed the avenue, Kristy took a left turn and we came face to face with a sprawling mauve apartment named ‘The Enclave’ and had seven floors. It was shorter than the buildings which surrounded it but was for more affluent and modern. The gate to the apartment was at least ten feet high with pale gold railings. The gate was slightly opened and we slipped in. The security guard regarded us with wary eyes but said nothing. I guess he wasn’t used to many people coming here with simply faded jeans and a grey cardigan on a black sweatshirt and had black circles around her eyes and wore glasses. Which rich guy wore glasses? Everyone had contact lenses. Just as we were about to enter the elevator in the parking lot – which was obviously filled with the best cars Mercedes, BMWs, Ferraris and whatnot – Kristy got a call on her phone.

“It’s Mom.” She said. Kristy’s mom had just recovered from pneumonia and was still weak. She put her cell phone to her ear and frowned. I could hear her voice faintly. Suddenly, she hissed, “What? What’s he doing here? Ok, ok, ok. Calm down, woman. I’ll be there.” She cut the call and placed the cell in jeans’ pocket. I looked at her questioningly. “It’s Dad. He’s suddenly back after all those years. I am so sorry Alexis, but I got to go. Your room number is 2504; it’s on the second floor.” She put the key in my hand and kissed my cheek. “All the best,” And then she jogged out of sight.

I sighed and looked down at the grey key on my right palm. I closed my hand so tightly that it hurt. Then, I stepped into the elevator and clicked the button for the second floor and it lurched upward.

There were just two rooms on each floor. So the first floor must have had the room numbers 2501, and 2502, because as my elevator dinged open, there were two mahogany doors in front of me, each wide enough for five of me to stand side by side in a line, with 2503 and 2504 written in bold white letters. Gross, how monotonous can these rich people be? I could hear the sound of the recent hits blaring from the neighbouring room, but as I stepped closer to the door to my apartment I frowned. The music was coming from my apartment – well, borrowed apartment. I clicked open the door and the lights were on.

At first, I was blinded by the bright light, but when I could see again, I saw the magnificent living room. It had pale blue wallpaper and the floor was carpeted with a soft red rug. There was a bookshelf on one side of the room, covering up the whole wall, but it was practically empty. In front of it, in the centre of the room, there was a yellow canary couch and small tea-table. The opposite wall to the bookshelf, one plasma LED TV was on, blaring on the music I was hearing before. The remaining wall had empty photo frames and an open door, which led to a narrow hallway. There was one door on the left and another two on the right. The one on the left was open.

I was just about to peer inside when I came face to face with a boy. And I did the most natural thing: screamed.