Zada

    The name's Zada. No last name, no anything, just Zada. Yeah, I know what's on that mind of yours now. Why no last name? The truth is that I have one. I just don't think a last name defines me. I'm just Zada.
    Picture this, a fifteen-year old 5'4'' black-haired, blue eyed psycho. That's me. I'm not really a psycho, although most people do call me that. The truth is that I do scare most people. It could be anything from my don't-mess-with-me attitude, to my unknown past, or even from the scars on my wrists. I'm not crazy though, mainly just unsure. Unsure of where I came from. Unsure of where I'm going. Unsure of where my family stays.
    Family, that one word is the bsis for the pain. Dead mother, lost father, missing sister all haunt my everyday living. The thought of never knowing them kills my last ounce of hope.
    Exactly ten years, three months, and one week ago, I sat in my living room beside my sister Zaja. Every door in the house was closed except for the door to the kitchen. Nothing made a sound except for the constant fidgeting of my 6-year old sister beside me. I had my hands clasped in my lap in front of me. They shook and sweated just as they had on my first day of kindergarten two months before. Rocking back and forth and staring at the floor, I noticed the soft tap tap tap of my father's shoes walking across oru hardwood floor. He wrung his hands and looked each of us in teh eye before giving out a hearty chuckle. He swung me onto his lap and bounced his knee up and down like he always did for the game of bucking bull. Each of us received a big bear hug while he continued to laugh hysterically. "Go on! Go see your mother now," he told us while holding his stomach. We raced each other to the closed door to our parents' bedroom where our mother layed. Zaja reached the door first, since she was the older one, and she shakily reached her hand out to the knob. When she gripped hold of the knob, she looked back and gave me the biggest smile she's made for weeks. Giggling, we crept into the room and sat on either side of our mother. Giving us a smile, our mother took in great gasps of air to fill her infected lungs. Our smiles never left out faces that whole night. That is, until morning. I never knew how something so unexpected could change a life so drastically. Suddenly, I lost my mother, my dad took off out of sorrow, and we were living in a family of people we never met or even wanted to meet.
    Ok, back to the present. Finding myself in front of the door I knew better than my bedroom door, I suddenly realized how terrible life suddenly seemed to get. The principal welcomed me in. His hand pointed to the chair and he sat behind his desk peering at me over the top of his glasses with his eyes as narrow as he could get them and still be able to see. I took the seat he indicated and crossed my legs, preparing myself for a long lecture. This chair practically had my butt imprinted in it. Looking over my records, the principal shook his head from side to side, "Second time in my office this week Zada. What punishment could I give you to actually make you listen to me?" My shoulders decided to do the usual and arched up and fell back down for a shrug. "You are only millimeters from getting sent away to boot camp young lady. I'd suggest you straighten up. Now, tell me exactly why we found you holding that girl against the lockers."
    "Actually, I was only defending someone who rightfully deserved it. That girl was threatening my friend. I rescued her from going through the pain that girl sweared she would cause her." My face turned completely surreal, and I leaned back with my fingers laced together behind my neck.
    "This is another mark on your record, another step toward boot camp, another reason you might not graduate. Help your friends by telling me what is promised to them." He leaned forward and stared me directly in the eye.
    I leaned forward and put my hands on the edge of his desk. "Whatever. I don't care."