Chapter 1: Seth
Seth dropped his bag on the floor and collapsed on the bed. It had been another long day at school, and it felt good to just lay down and relax for a few minutes. Seth sighed. Finally, some peace of mind. Without getting up, he kicked off his Converse One-Stars, not caring where they landed. Seth closed his eyes, willing this respite from the day to last just a little bit longer. But the world had other ideas.
His eyes flew open when he heard a sharp knock at the door to the apartment. "Seth, I know you're in there," a voice said. "Open this door right now."
Seth rolled out of bed, stifling a groan. He opened the door. Before him stood a short, gray haired lady in a flower pattern dress that was hemmed with a hint of lace. Her hair was stacked in ridiculous curls, and her eyes were framed by thick, round rimmed spectacles.
"Hello, Ms. Henderson," Seth said as pleasantly as he could, Ms. Henderson was their neighbor. She lived in apartment 23-B, one door down. She was the stereotypical apartment neighbor, always into everybody's business, always gossiping about something. "What are you doing here?"
Ms. Henderson somehow managed to slip into the apartment without seeming to push Seth aside. "Your mother told me to check up on you after you got home from school and make sure you didn't slack off," Ms. Henderson said, sweeping her gaze over everything in the apartment, hoping to find something to report to Seth's mother. "I know how you kids these days spend all your time on your PlayBox or something," she continued, "never getting anything useful done."
Seth sighed and rolled his eyes at Ms. Henderson's back. He refrained from pointing out that he didn't own a Playstation or an XBox. All he had was his old second hand laptop that he used for school projects and the occasional random internet search. Instead he said, "Thank you for coming, Ms. Henderson. I was about to make a quick snack before I started my homework."
Ms. Henderson stared at Seth, a stare that might have been intimidating if she didn't have glasses on, or she didn't have to squint to bring Seth into focus. "don't think that I don't know when you're trying to get rid of me, young man," she said threateningly, raising herself to her full height of about five foot four. "I can smell trouble a mile away, and you are a lot closer than that."
She glared at Seth for another minute before turning to leave. "Your mother will hear about this, you may count on that," she said as she left, closing the door firmly behind her.
Seth let out a deep breath before he returned to his room. It was not a big room. The furniture consisted of a desk in one corner, his bed in another, his dresser against the back wall near his bed, and a single shelf that held a few of his favorite books and some knick knacks. Seth sat down at his desk, pulling over his backpack. He pulled out his math textbook and notebook. As he set them down in front of him, he looked up at the only decoration on the walls. It was a small poster, and on it was a simple quote: "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to go dancing in the rain."
It was his favorite quote. He found it motivational and sad at the same time. Sometimes, he felt it summarized his life pretty well. His life seemed to be one big storm, and he had eventually learned to just take what life gave him and make the best of it. Which was sadly not very good. With a sigh, Seth opened his math textbook, and began to work out the assigned problems.
If only the rest of my life were as easily solve, he thought, writing down his work in his notebook.
Seth almost didn't hear the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. It was well after nine o'clock, almost ten.
She's home early, Seth thought, his thoughts neutral. There was the sound of paper bags being deposited on the counter, and cabinets opening and closing. After that was done, Seth heard the old TV set turn on, and the sound of voices mixed with static.
"Seth, I'm home."
Yeah, I noticed, Seth thought to himself. He poked his head out of his bedroom door. "Hello, Mom," he said before ducking back into his room, closing the door most of the way. He lay back on his bed and slipped on his headphones. He didn't have an MP3 player like most other kids did, but he had an old CD walkman that he listened to. He put in one of his favorite rock CDs, and turned the volume down to about a quarter of full. The light rock music filled his head, and soon, he was only thinking about the lyrics instead of everything else in his life. Three songs later, he heard several loud curses. There were several sharp banging noises, and then a shout.
"Seth, TV's shot again."
Seth sighed and stood up, leaving his walkman on the bed. He left his room and headed into the family room. His mother was sitting on the well worn couch. Her short dark brown was a mess, sticking up every which way. Even though Seth had tried to tell her that no one really liked the short and wild hairstyle anymore, she wouldn't believe him. She was wearing a faded pink T-shirt and scuffed blue jeans. In her right hand she held a can of beer. The three empty ones on the tray table next to her, as well as the slightly spacey look in her eyes, meant that she was still only a little bit drunk. Thank God it was Friday, or he would probably have to call her in sick in the morning.
"Yes, Mom," he said, standing next to the TV.
"TV's shot," she repeated.
Seth nodded and started fiddling with the cables in the back. The picture cleared up for a second, but then faded into static again. Seth sighed. "I'll go check the roof," he said. There was a large window next to the kitchen that led to the fire escape. Seth climbed out the window.
Three stories below was a dark alley, but Seth could see the light of several cars passing it as they drove down the street. Seth started to climb up the steep metal stairs. There were three floors above his, and the climb always left him feeling out of breath. When he reached the roof he paused to catch his breath. When he straightened, he immediately saw what the problem was. A bird sat perched on the antenna, staring at him with cold, unblinking eyes. Seth took a step towards it.
"Shoo," he shouted, waving his arms. "Buzz off. Go on, get outta here."
The bird didn't move. It simply stared at Seth, tilting its head to one side. Seth sighed. He lunged at the bird, shouting as he did. The bird, finally seeming to get the message, flew off in a whirl of feathers.
"About time," Seth muttered, and started back down the fire escape. When he got to the apartment window, he saw that the picture had returned to the TV, though still with the same crummy quality it had always had.
Seth closed the window. "I'm gonna go to bed, Mom," he said, heading down the hall.
His mom mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative noise.
Seth closed his bedroom door behind him. He idly weighed the odds of her falling asleep on the couch, and guessed that they were about 50-50. He sat down at his desk and pulled out a simple black composition notebook from underneath a stack of papers. It was his journal. He had started keeping one after his father had run off. He found it was easier to write down his thoughts than keep them inside. He opened to the most recent page. He wrote down the date and time.
Dear Journal,
I have nothing to say.
He signed his name, just like he always did. He looked back at the entries from the past week. They all said the same thing, with the occasional note about a project for Literature class or an upcoming math test. It was the same as last week, as week as the week before. In fact, almost a month had happened since his last real entry, which was reporting a dream he had. He liked writing down his dreams; it made him feel like there was always another world, one that he couldn't touch or go to, but would be there when he slept. Some places were happy and peaceful, where he didn't have to worry about his current troubles.
Seth closed the book. Turning off the lights, he crawled into bed and soon fell asleep.