I knew what I was walking into. It wasn't the first time I had walked home to find the apartment empty and the snooping old broad next door trying to find something now to complain about. She had told my mom of a fight I had gotten into just outside the gates. Mom freaked when she found out, worrying about lawsuits that would destroy us financially and ruin her chances of ever getting a better job. I was just happy I had proven myself against those douche bags.

"Oh, baby. Just wait until that excuse of a mother of yours hears her boy is skippin' school," the woman said as I passed by.

"Shut up. And don't talk bad about my mother like that you fat, wrinkled old hag," I growled back.

"Hmph. Apparently she ain't taught you any manners yet. If it were up to me-"

"Except it's not, Babba Yagga. Now why don't you go back to your chicken-legged house and torment other weak victims instead," I snapped, cutting her off. I didn't wait to hear her retort and burst through the front door.

Alone. Empty and alone. Just as it should have been. I slammed the door shut, locked all the locks, and flopped down on the ancient sofa in the living room. Too bad we couldn't afford a television or I might have relaxed in front of it. Instead, all I could do was stare at the bare white wall before me.

Boredom. Nothing to do. And why? Because we couldn't afford anything and I'd left my stuff at school. Wait. I forgot my stuff at school. Damn it! Now, not only did I have nothing to do, I had evidence that I was ditching. My crappy day went from crap to super crap just like that. And it only grew worse from there.

"Hey, Steph. Are you home?" Bill's voice came through. "The key isn't here so I know you're in there." Damn it. Of all the people I didn't want to see, he was number one.

"Steph? Are you in there?" Bill called. "I really need to talk to you. It's about a position that just opened up. It's perfect for you and you won't need a second job anymore. Steph?" Just keep quiet, I thought to myself. He'll go away soon.

And it would've worked perfectly too if I hadn't forgotten the window. Bill peered in and, by the surprised look on his face, I could tell he wasn't very happy.

"Evan?" he said, puzzled. "Evan, why are you...? Never mind. Is your mother home? I really need to talk to her."

"Go away," I shouted. "Even if mom were home, she wouldn't want to talk to you."

"What do you mean 'were'?" Bill pressed. "Evan, what's going on? I called your mother and she said she'd meet me here."

"She probably just said that to be rid of you," I retorted.

"Evan, why are you even home so early on a Tuesday? Is there some early release thing going on?"

"Why do you even care? I'm not your problem anymore! I never even was!" I snapped. I was done with the conversation. I wanted out.

"Evan? Where are you going? I need to tell you something that I need you to tell your mother!" Bill shouted as I stood up and began walking away. "Evan!"

"Screw you, asshole," I growled and flicked him off. Bill kept calling after me, his blood really boiling now. A smirk crossed my face. It felt good to piss him off. The bastard deserved it after all.

I entered my room in the apartment intent on hiding out until Bill finally gave up and went home. An hour passed and Bill finally decided to stop trying to bargain his way in. Another hour later and he was gone. Once more things were as they should've been. I was alone and I didn't have anything to do.

Sometime around four thirty in the afternoon, there was a knock at the door. I was once more in the living room, this time with the curtains drawn. There was a second knock, this time a little more forceful followed by a voice.

"Evan, I know you're in there!" it shouted through the door. "I brought you your stuff."

"Evan's not home right now so if you could please leave your name and a brief message I'll be sure to relay it back to him for you," I shouted back.

"I know you're in there!" the voice shouted more forcefully. "Now quit messing around before I kick this door in!"

"Okay, okay," I said. "Damn. Can't you take a stupid joke? You know we couldn't afford to fix it even if we wanted to." Her name was Sierra Villalobos, and she was a senior at my school. We had known each other for almost nine years and our relationship tended to be based on 'I get in trouble, she cleans up the mess'.

I opened the door and Sierra welcomed herself in. "Great to see you too," I said under my breath. Whether or not she heard me, she gave no notice and threw my stuff onto the couch. "You don't have to treat my stuff so poorly," I said.

"Maybe you should do a better job of keeping track of it then," Sierra growled back. "What is there to eat? I'm starved."

"What? No! Why don't you go eat at home?" I said, appalled. "There's barely enough for just two people! And you probably have plenty of food at your place! Hey! Are you even listening to me?" Apparently, I had just been talking to the air because Sierra was standing in the kitchen area raiding our relatively empty fridge.

"Sheesh. You guys really are poor," Sierra sighed, eventually settling for a hotdog and a slice of cheese. "So, how's your mom anyways? Still working just as hard?"

"What do you think? We'd be evicted if she wasn't," I groaned. "It's hard enough we can't afford much but the rent on this place takes up half the second paycheck."

"Why don't you get a job to help out?" Sierra asked. "That's what I did to help lighten the load for my parents."

"Shouldn't you be there now anyways?"

"Nope," she said. "I've got the day off today. Speaking of which, when does your mom get a break? I swear she works herself to death."

"I've never known mom to have a day off in ten years," I said. Sierra froze mid-chew. She swallowed, realization coming quickly to her.

"Damn. That sucks. I didn't know it was that bad. You're dad doesn't help out?"

"Don't bring up that sorry son-of-a-"

"Geez! Calm down," Sierra interrupted. "I was only asking." Silence followed. Not the kind of silence that emanates when a classroom has an awkward silence, but the deafening silence where you could hear a clock ticking in a room on the other side of a house.

"So," Sierra eventually said, breaking the silence. "When is your mom getting home?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Who knows," I said. "Sometimes ten thirty, sometimes later. It depends on those lazy bastards she has to work with." Sierra just nodded.

"Hey," she said. "Quick question."

"What?" I sighed.

"Can I stay here for dinner? My mom's cooking tonight and you know how that goes."

"Wha!? Shit!" I shouted dashing out the door. "Don't let her in the kitchen!"