FicWad

Monica woke up to the sound of some shitty local radio station, the clock read 5:45; 15 minutes earlier then what she has to wake up. The 4’11 New Yorker rolled over, accidentally hitting the nightstand with Grandma Edna in a vase on top; currently wobbling its way off of the table.

Monica frantically leaped out of her covers, saving the remains of a never relevant ancestor, but knocking over the 10 lb soccer trophy onto her cold, bear foot.

“GOD DAMN SHIT FUCK BATMAN” She screamed, unknowingly dropping poor Edna onto the floor, the vase shattering into twenty different pieces.

“MONICA, YOU WATCH YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH YOU HEARD ME?” Momma Coco screamed from the other room, bitter from a rude awaking.

Monica looked down at her feet; a three inch crescent shaped cut, oozing enough blood to fill the cracks in the old 1920 vintage Buffalo apartment, a huge red person shaped red stop, guaranteed to leave a bruise, and lastly, her pride all over the bedroom floor.

She released a loud grunt, and stopped her way to the bathroom, dripping blood, dragging along some of Grandma every step of the way.

The bathroom lights were dim as she fixed her frizzy, fried ginger hair. The light bulbs eventually burned out as she straightened her hair, missing her orange locks, and straightening her ear. She jerked the straightening chord out of the wall, and stomped out of the bathroom- stubbing her big toe in the process.

Mo stalked back to her bedroom, and collapsed on the bed, absorbing the warmth her comforter had to offer. She let her heavy eyelids drift back to sleep, but only for a little while.

“MONICA COCO GET YOUR ASS UP RIGHT NOW, YOU GODDAMN MISTAKE, I’M LEAVING RIGHT NOW TO WORK, AND IF YOU EXPECT A RIDE TO SCHOOL, YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS MOVING.” Monica’s wonderfully tempered step-father pulled up the blinds, letting the sun beam onto every inch of her closet sized room. The clock read 6:15. School starts at 7:00. If she were lucky, she could catch a ride with her neighbor, Paige, that nobody liked, but everybody tolerated.

“Die motherfucker.” She sleepily swore at the man she was forced to call ‘daddy’.

“YOU NEED TO RESPECT GODDAMN AUTHORITY, MONICA, I’M LEAVING WHETHER YOU’RE IN THE CAR OR NOT”

The slamming door caused another wake up call delivered to the Smiths, residents of apartment number 569, The Mormons.

“PLEASE KEEP IT DOWN IN THERE PLEASE.” The Coco’s were surprised that nobody called the cops on them for noise; they didn’t push their luck though.

Monica rolled out of bed, avoiding all hazards to her feet, strolling over to her closet to pick out her most impressive outfit.

Then she remembered the salvation army cleaned out her wardrobe, she had no clean socks that the cat had not urinated on, and all she has left is a purple Anarbor band shirt, and denim flair jeans.

“So I guess I’ll be going to school in my pajamas then.” Mo Coco mumbled to herself, grabbing a pair of converse from her box of shoes. She wiped the open wound her anti-bacterial wipes, rapped her foot with gauze, swallowed pain, and shoved her bear foot into her sneakers hoping to God that athlete’s food wasn’t able to get into the bloodstream.

After realizing that you would need a backpack for school, Monica ventured into her coat closet, and searched for a bag. Not only did she find a backpack, she found a twenty pack of condoms stashed in her mom’s coat pocket, a half loaded gun, that half doll/half spider legged things her brother used to torture with as a child (as seen in those classic horror films from the 90’s) and Scruffy, the dog the Coco’s lost… 6 months ago.

The small girl marched out of the apartment, and down the hall. She banged on the door belonging to who she knew as Paige Castro.
"Yeah?" Paige opened the door, looking around the hall until her eyes settled on her neighbor/classmate.
"Can I get a ride?" Monica said, annoyed with the sound of Paige's voice.
“I have to walk to school, I got in trouble last night.” Paige bit her lip, pushing her untamed hair away from her small brown eyes.
“But school’s 20 miles away.” The ginger questioned, noticing the scar above Paige’s bushy eyebrow.
“I know. But they say walking in 90 degree weather builds character.” She nodded, her lips tucked in between her teeth.
“Oh. Okay. Well can I walk with you?” Mo asked, hoping for rejection, there were better places to be than school.
“Yeah, sure, what to have some breakfast with me?” Paige’s eyes lit up, her obnoxious voice getting slightly more annoying.
“Sure.”

Monica walked in to a cold small kitchen, the granite filthy, mice hiding in the corner of the room.
“Oh, watch your foot.” Paige warned, pointing down at one of the few mouse traps spread out on cluttered stone floor. Monica laughed, and kicked the trap to the side; she had close to 20 of these contraptions in her room.
“Would you like a bagel?” Paige asked, opening her fridge, filled with items that varied from rat poison to beer to Tabasco sauce.
“Of course I would like a bagel.” Mo smirked.

The dark haired child took two bagels from the brown paper. She grabbed a jagged knife from the cabinet, and began to cut the bagel. About half way through cutting her breakfast, she skinned her finger and ripped a centimeter of skin off of her hand.
“OUCHIE.” She dropped the pastry on the floor, and sucked on her finger, hoping the blood would die down.

Monica ran out the door to her room, grabbed her band aids, antibacterial soap, and gauze, then rushed back to Paige.
“MOVE LADY, I’VE DONE THIS BEFORE.” Mo grabbed Paige’s hand, and ran it under cold water, washing it with the soap. She grabbed the nearest paper towel, wrapped it around the finger, counting to ten, then wrapping it with gauze.
“Thanks friend!” Paige smiled, surveying her finger cast.

“Sure sure, kid, you’ve got much to learn.” The ginger cut the other bagel, without cutting any body parts, and buttered each piece, giving one to Paige, and keeping one for herself.
“You ready to go Monica?” Paige asked, getting her TMNT backpack.
“One, don’t call me Monica, call me Mo, and two, yes, lets go.” She asserted her authority, figuring it was better for Paige to fear her then anything.
“Haha, OKAY DOKAY MO-KAY.” She laughed, skipping out the door.

There was no fear to be had.

“Which way do we go?” Monica asked as soon as they left the building.
“Left.”

On their hour journey to school, they pasted a pigeon on the ground that some of the neighborhood bullies were messing with.
Paige rushed over to the group and started screaming “THE BRITISH ARE COMING, THE BRITISH ARE COMING”.
All heads turned in confusion.
“Wait what?” the group stopped their lallygagging.

“Yeah, if you don’t leave this bird alone, the Brits will come to your house, steal Christmas, and slit your mother’s throat, its been known to happen.” Paige convinced them, her eyes wide and her arms flaring everywhere.

“Guys, I need Christmas, Santa’s supposed to be bringing me a time machine.” The fat one replied, throwing his stick into the air, and grabbing his backpack. The rest of the gang ran off with their bikes, and left the pigeon.

Monica approached the Paige and her pigeon friend after the mob had left, “what was that about?”
“You see, I used to have a wild animal circus, and this bird was star. Then I started losing profit, and Lahoya flew away. When I saw those kids and heard the squawks, I knew it was my bird friend, and had to come to the rescue.” She explained, holding the pigeon close.

“You’re really weird… I like it.” Mo approved, nodding her head.
“Oh thanks. By the way, I like your pajamas.” Monica looked down at her onesie, and smiled.
“Thanks. I picked it out myself.”
“Well, we should probably get to school.” Paige suggested, laying her animals friend in a safe bush.
“We should, its already 7:15.”
And on that first day of 2nd grade, Mo Coco and Paige Castro became best friends.