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Ty just sat on his bed, trying to drown out the yelling that was going on downstairs. His parents were fighting once again, and he just wanted to get away. Ty’s dog, Bob, had his head lying on Ty’s knee.
A fight was always started by nothing at all, and tonight wasn’t any different. Ty’s dad had forgotten to take the garbage out, and Ty’s mom had just flown off the handle. She had started yelling, and Ty had gotten up and gone to his room. Sometimes, though, the arguments escalated into something a little more violent. Ty’s dad would break a lamp or something, and then his mom would get fed up and go to her room. Then, everything would get quiet. Ty’s dad would come to his senses and go back to his bedroom and apologize to his wife. It was all a very well-structured routine, but sometimes it just got old. Ty knew his parents loved each other, but he just wished that they would stop fighting.
Ty listened downstairs, and he didn’t hear any more screaming. He started to creep down the stairs, only to find the Christmas tree, that he had set up with his dad, standing in the cornero of the room. Right beside it, there was a table with a miniature village on it. Ty walked over to the village and just looked at it. Ty’s mom called it The Dickens’ Village. It
She was only a stride away from the bulletin board, as the counselor posted a new announcement. She hurried herself, being the first to attain the news. As she approached the board, she saw in bolded letters the word tryouts. Her eyes instantaneously gleamed.
Claire Bailey was one of the girls who tried almost everything and always was triumphant in her new adventures. Her latest adventure consisted of her participating in a contemporary-yoga class. However, she never became as successful as she wanted to in all of her new hobbies, as she was blinded by her zeal for dance. Her life revolved around dance. It was what she lived, breathed, and desired for. She had been dancing since the age of 3, when her parents enrolled her in a ballet class for the novice. From there her passion was sparked, and a daily fervor derived in the life of young Claire Bailey.
Everyone was gathering their papers, well, everyone but Allison. Mock trail practice was over for the night, and everyone but Allison was ready to leave. The young blonde-headed girl sat at the defense table, her head in her hands while her coaches and teammates alike gathered their own scripts and walked through the swinging courtroom door into the fading daylight of the October sky.
“Are you coming Alli? Or do you want to lock up tonight?” asked one of Allison’s coaches, who casually flipped the keys to the courthouse in her hand. Allison looked up, green eyes laced with a worried stare and replied,
“No ma’am I’m not coming right now, but I can lock up tonight.”
“Are you sure? I mean it can get pretty creepy here at night girl.”
“I’ll be fine Ms. Powoski, I’m a big girl.”
The middle-aged instructor cast a glance over her wire framed glasses as she tossed the keys to Allison, “Alright, just be careful, and when you leave, don’t forget to cut off all the lights. You might have to flip the switches in the fuse box; you know how stubborn these old lights can be.”
