Sights - Mercades Licht (early reader chapter books .txt) 📗

Ceri

I wake with a start as someone grabs my arm and yanks me off my bed. A loud thud sounds as my body hits the ground and my head bangs against the hard wood. Giggles sound as I groan and struggle to get up. Opening my eyes as I make it to a sitting position, I see a gray skirt attached to someone and glance up just in time to get water flung in my face. More giggles sound as I move over onto my side coughing up water that got in my mouth and started to chock me.
    "Get up!" Sister Mara yells as I'm still on the floor coughing up water. With how little pastionts Sister Mara has, she grabs my left arm and halls me to my feet, just to push me at the small dresser next to my bed and almost making me fall on my ass again. "Get dressed! Everyone!" She yells before storming out of the room. With giggles still sounding, all the girls including me (now that my coughing spasms have stopped) looks through our dressers and grabs some closths.

The first girls that find there clothse runs to the showerroom and to one of the seven shower stalls to take a shower. Since there are only seven shower stalls and there are sixteen of us, the rest have to wait to take a shower. We all have a limited time for a shower, but nobody besides me pays attention to the scedeul. Having to  only open up my top dresser drwar and grab a bondle full of clothes, I'm the first one in the shower room.

Walking to the very last stall, I open the door, close and lock it, I turn to the brick wall that holds the shower head, I stand on the bench thats there to put my clean clothse and my towel on the hooks that are above the shower head. Once thats done I strip, put the clothse I just took off on the side of the stall door, turn on the water and take my shower. Just a couple of seconds into my shower I hear giggling and then my dirty clothse that I had thrown over the side of my shower stall are taken and pounding foot steps suggest that the culprets ran off. Now I'm pretty sure you know why I put my fresh pair of clothse on the hooks in the stall.

Being me isn't always easy, I wasn't even homeless until three in a half years ago. Before then, I had a loving family and I used to have a best friend. Since I first started kindergarden I had a friend, well almost had a friend. I was younger than everyone when I first started school, smarter too for my young age and everyone liked to take my things away from me and just be plainly rude like little kids like to sometimes be. He was there. My best friend Jace was there.

At first he didn't want to be my friend, but then when we got older he started hanging with me. My family was poor, but he shared his food with me at lunch when I couldn't affored anything to eat. Even though my family and I are witches (sorry for leaving that minor detail out) we can't use our powers to make us rich. Use our powers for greedy reasons always has a cost.

We hung out quit often, which made me learning how to control my powers when they started kicking in hard when we were with each other 24/7. Then he moved.

My parents weren't happy about this nor were they upset. Yeah they missed Jace's parents because both of our parents befriended each other, but they were happy when they could finally train me. And me? I was devisated when Jace left. Though we got to call, text, and write to each other when ever we could, which was all the time. Until almost a year into my magic training my bestfriend stops all contact with me and then a car crash ensues.

My family and I were in that crash. My mothers neck was snaped, my father impaled in the stomach, going all the way through to stick into his seat. My face went through the window I was sitting by, giving me a small gash on my forehead and some scratches scattered on my face. And I also had a big huge piece of glass in my left thigh, plus internal bleeding. I lost so much blood and the doctors had no clue how I survived losing so much blood. When my moms neck snapped it completly severed her spin and then my dad died in surgery. He had a few brocken ribs, a callapsed lung, a damaged kidney, and he lost way to much blood. Not as much as I did, but close. I had to have surgery done on one of my kidneys and had to have a blood transfution to insure I would survive.

Glancing down to my right side, I trace the slitly long scar going from the bottom of my hip curving slitly around to the start of my back. After so long of having the scar its gotten a bit fainter from when it used to be an ugly redish-purple color. Removing my hand from the ugly scar, I start washing my hair and then my body, wishing I could erase the memory of the accident and hate knowing I can't. 

Once dressed and dried off I walk out of the stall carring my towel in search of the culprets that took off with dirty clothse, so I can put the clothse in my dirty clothse basket and wash them later. I find them one at a time in the other room marked bathroom, that's a whole other room from the shower room, in the toillet stalls. With a an anoyed sigh I wring the each out before piling them ontop of the towel over my left arm. Walking out of the bathroom to the showerroom then out of the showerroom into the bedroom qaurters, I walk over to the basket beside my bed and drop the clothse in the basket. Once that's done I scoot the basket under the bed and open the only other drawer in my dresser and grab a pair of clean socks and my brush.

Getting my ratty old shoes out from under my small dresser I put my socks on and then my shoes and then standing I brush my long redish-orange hair and then put the brush away. Grabbing my long, two sizes to big, black jacket from atop my dresser I put in on over my then plain old gray shirt, grab my bag from between my bed and dresser and walk out of the bedroom down the hallways until I reach the dinning room.

Sitting in one of the chair at the long table I put my bag on the floor and hang on with it with my feet (to make sure no one takes off with my bag.) Being the first one here (as always) I sit and wait for everyone else to file in. The first ones to fill there paper plates with food get breakfist and everyone everyday pile there plates high until the food is gone. The guys with there plates piled high can usally eat everything on there plates and all the girls usallly eat some and then toss the rest away without offering the people that didn't get anything to eat if they want it.

As everyone files into the dinning room the food starts to be served and layed out on the table I get a humungous amount of food from each iteam like everyone else and sit in my seat and wait. Looking at the plate full of toast and eggs and sausage and bacon and excetra makes my stomach growl with hunger that is never satisfied with how little I ever get to eat. I resist temptation to start eating and watch as everyone else sitts back with there plates full of food. There not being anything left on the bowls and plates in the middle of the table I lood around at the people that didn't get an ounce of food to even eat. As always its the little kids between the ages of seven through eleven.

There being seven kids that didn't get any food I put my fork on the paper plate under some food to make it stay and then stand up, put my bag over my shoulder and then pick up the plate with both hands and walk over to the closest kid without food and scoop some onto her plate. The seven year old girl squels exicidedly when she sees her favorite food (being pancakes) and gives me a hug and then starts to eat. Walking from kid to kid until all seven of them have food on their plates leaving mine empty, I walk over to my seat, pick up the glass of orange juice there and seeing people smiling in my direction I know they put something in it. Walking into the kitchen with the glass of poisinous orange juice and my fork and paper plate. Going over to the sink I dump out the orange juice and watch it go down the drain.

"Let me guess, they put something in the juice?" Asks a person behind me. Putting the now empty cup down in the sink I turn around and see Chef Mason over by the stove.

"You know they did, whoever it was, they always do. That's why I hardly ever get to drink the orange juice in the morning because they either poison it with their spit, toothpaste, hotsauce, which that time was really bad. That's why if I see them smiling in my direction when I go to drink it I don't drink if just in case its poisoned."

Walking over to the trashcan I drop the paperplate and plastic fork into it and watch them both fall until they both hit the trash at the bottom. Smelling the aroma of food in the kitchen my stomach growls, but I ignore it has best as I can, like I always do. I hear a groan and look over at Chef Mason and see him watching me.

"You didn't skip eating again, did you?" He asks looking at me with concern. 

Looking at the thirty something year old man, my only friend in this hellhole, and don't answer him as for he already knows the answer.

"You need to start eating Ceri. Your to skiney for your own good. Brittney and I both hate it when you don't eat." Brittney is his wife and she works as a chef here too, but right now she must be doing something for the Sisters.

"You and Brit both know I won't eat unless the seven little ones I give my food too has something to eat too." I tell him like I've told him and Brit a thousand times before.

"Here." Says Chef Mason as he hands me a plat full of bacon and toast. "You've got to eat something."

Handing the plat back I tell him, "No. Don't give me any of yours or Brits porton of food. You guys have to eat too, since you both live here too. I will eat later, either at dinner if I'm lucky or two days from now when I get money for lunch at school." Before he can say anything else or try to force me to eat I say, "Bye Chef Mason, don't want to be late for school. Oh, and tell Brit I said hi when you see her." And then I walk out of the kitchen, through the dinning room, through the hallways and then out the door and walk the nine blocks to school.

Walking down the halls of Westford High