Post by SARA STAYBACK on Jun 4, 2009 14:22:56 GMT -8
and it's all in how you mix the two
and it starts just where the light exists[/size][/font][/center]
The smell of grease and heaven assaulted Sara's nose as she entered the take out restaurant. Sara, having grown up with a bad excuse for a hippie as a father, had learned that nothing tasted better on a lonely Friday night than sweet and sour chicken with buckets of sauce and too many fortune cookies. Add in a ton of white rice, a good amount of Pepsi, and maybe a few good movies, and Sara had her lonely Friday night out planned perfectly. Sara had spent many nights in, as of late, and although a part of her seemed content with her hermit lifestyle, a whole other part of her wished that she for once had something to do. Clubbing wasn't her thing, she wasn't even old enough yet, and she'd rather be dead than hang with her grandparents and their rich gardening buddies. Or whatever the hell they called themselves. Sara hardly found seeds and dirt and cow shit entertaining. Most of those people probably didn't even touch dirt themselves anyways.
Sara had decided the minute that she walked into her grandmother's (not so) lively main estate that she'd rather have her grandmother be in a book club or something. Then Sara wouldn't feel so obligated to ignore the club of old women who usually spend their time gossiping over the newest people in town. Of course, Sara was one of them, but they always talked kindly about her, in ways that made her want to hide under a bush so no one could look at her like that again. "Oh, she's a lovely child," they say. "It's a shame that her father left," they'll continue. "I wonder how she survived, with that type of father," then they'd stop. Sara wondered what possessed her grandmother to let them talk that way, but it might have been the fact that she agreed with them. Sara wouldn't put it past the woman.
So, instead of suffering the embarassing talk about her father and herself, Sara enjoyed leaving the house, or claiming to be a homebody and watching movies until four in the morning. Today it was going to be the latter, because she had no intentions of going out into the world, unless someone wanted to buy her alcohol. Going into the city of Vegas without legally being able to drink, was like going to the biggest carnival in town, and not being tall enough to ride any of the rides. It was pointless, and a big let down. She'd walk down the streets, admire the wonderful colors and vibrancy of the people, but any place that she would deem 'entertaining' or 'fun' were for the humble 21+ crowd. It was a sad state of affairs indeed. So stealing alcohol from her grandparents' basement was just as good of an idea as any. Only today they were out of Grey Goose, and Sara wasn't a whiskey fan. It looked like Pepsi and food is all she'd be having today.
When Sara usually waited in line, her favorite thing to do was people watch. She'd look at the woman in front of her with the pants that were way too tight, and the woman next to her with the fake librarian look, and she'd give them lives. The one in front of her had an amazing husband who didn't give two shits if her pants gave her muffin tops, because they had two beautiful kids at home, and then the fake librarian next to her just wanted to bag some guy that got turned on by glasses. And then Sara saw how she fit in. The girl who left her father for money. Charming. She fit right in.
"Sweet and sour chicken," she told the man when it was her turn to order. "Extra sauce, and a two liter of Pepsi." Now all she had to do was wait, and for that fifteen minutes, she'd spend it outside with a smoke. Once the door to the place closed, she'd already had a smoke out, and her lighter going, trying to get the flame to light the Marbolo Smooth in her right hand.
word count: 711
