Nuclear Family

“Lena? Lena? Earth to Helena?”
Someone was calling me. Huh. I tried to roll over, the grit of the basketball court digging into my legs and any other exposed skin. Cracking my eyes open, I groped vaguely in the direction of my aching head while a concerned face swam into view. My glasses were pressed into my free hand, and I thanked any gods that were out there that they weren't broken.
“This,” I croaked, pointing an accusing finger at my friend Tory, and then towards my bruised and bloodied knees, “Is all your fault.”
“Is not.” She folded her arms and tossed her head, curly brown hair flying as I tried to sit up. I groaned and flopped back down. Everything hurt too much. Everything took too much effort. Life was hard when you are lazy and tired and possibly concussed.
Painfully, I got up, dusting off my shorts. “Is so.”
“Well, it’s not my fault that you ran down the half-pipe.”
“Well, it’s your fault for not stopping me.” I surveyed the metal structure in front of me, flicking a hank of black hair out of my eyes. “Wow. I’m an idiot.”
“Yes, you are,” Tory agreed, green eyes glittering with amusement. She slung an arm around my shoulders before staggering off comically, dragging me with her towards the gates of the skate park while I complained and felt sorry for my poor ass. “C’mon. I gotta be home by 5 to help with dinner, and unless I am sorely mistaken, you still have half a history assignment and two chapters of the English book to read.”
“Yes, mom,” I mocked, shoving her in the side before muttering a muted “Sorry!” to the old lady that I nearly walked into. She glared at me, thumping the tarmac with her walking stick menacingly. Tory sniggered behind her hand before waving goodbye to me, leaving me to fiddle with my keys.
I unceremoniously shoved the door open with one foot after trying [and failing miserably] to manoeuvrer the door handle with an armful of letters and cat. I heard the murmur of voices from down the hall, and my mother’s tone rising in slight anxiety. Frowning, I gently dropped Fluffy [shut up, I was 11 when I named him, okay?] before picking up a didgeridoo that was lying conveniently in the umbrella holder. My mom and I had lived alone together for as long as I could remember.
Creeping down the sparsely carpeted hall, I carefully tip-toed over my ballet bag, what I hoped was wool and not another hairball [courtesy of Fluffy], and a pair of white converse that definitely did not belong to me or my mom. Oh no. Please don’t let it be a new boyfriend. New boyfriends were not cool. New boyfriends made Mom way too giggly and occasionally passed out on your maths homework at 2am in the morning.
Bursting into the living room, I brandished the instrument-turned-impromptu-weapon at the intruder, declaring, “NAH SON, YOU BETTER STAY AWAY FROM MY MOM OR I WILL SHOVE THIS UP YOUR-.”, before I got a good look. When I did, I wondered if the hit that I had taken to my head was worse than previously thought.
“Uh,” I said.
“Uh,” Mom said.
“Uh,” Gerard Way said.

Notes

I wrote this at 11 pm, okay, please don't hate me? I hope you enjoyed, and hopefully I will be updating with longer chapters in the future. Okay. I better go to sleep now, the Director of Music wants me to play bass for the band. Also, I'm gonna be working on a vocal workshop with Pentatonix in July!
Right. Goodnight!
EDIT: A character page has been added. Being the narcissistic shit that I am, you guys may gaze upon my face as Helena.
Signing out,
Coke/Mikey