Oh My...

7.) Debbie

The woman took a few long strides to the middle of the room and towered over us on the couch. Her hands were on her hips, and ash from her cigarette sprinkled onto the floor. She rose a thin blonde eyebrow. "What the hell is this?" she demanded huskily behind her smoke.

"Yo, you're killin' the moooood." Marshall groaned.

"Nuh-uh Marsh I ain't- is that my liquor?! You little fuckin' shits!" The woman grabbed the empty bottles and looked at us in rage. "What the fuck-"

"They were basically empty when I got them, Debbie." Marshall scowled, his words loose and slurred. "I'll leave you twenty, okay?"

Debbie stared at him coldly. "Don't be disrespectful to your mother."

"Okay, Debbie."

Debbie was fuming. She dropped the bottles carelessly and began to puff up her seventies-style hair with her fingers. Grabbing Nathan off the floor, she walked to the small, boxy TV placed in front of the couch and sat on it. "Where's Kim?" Debbie murmured.

"Don't think she's coming around anymore." Marshall replied in a small voice.

Her watery blue eyes met my face. Removing her cigarette from her mouth, she pointed at me with it. "Who are you?"

"My name's Alex."

"Alex...?"

"Alex Wallace."

Debbie nodded slowly before a spark of recognition lit up her tired face. "You related to Claire Wallace?"

I was dumbfounded. "She's my aunt."

"Aye she's my partner for poker every Wednesday and Saturday." She crackled. "Y'all's look alike! Same small pixie nose and high cheekbones. You ain't got her green eyes, though."

Marshall squeezed me. "Small world," he whispered in my ear.

Debbie stood up. "Marsh, ain't you got the late shift tonight?"

"It's only twelve," Marshall moaned.

"Still. You're gonna feel like there's a bullet lodged in your brain if you don't drink some water and take a shower now. Alex, why don't you go home?"

I frowned. "I just moved in last night. I'm not positive how to get to my house," I admitted sheepishly.

Debbie grunted and stared at me. Setting Nate back on the ground, she said: "I know where Claire lives. I'll drive you. C'mon."

In the car, Debbie lit a new cigarette and passed her pack to me. "How drunk are you?"

"Decently." I replied, carefully clamping a cigarette between my teeth.

Debbie reached over and lit the smoke for me before taking a quick moment to observe me. "You know..." she muttered. "You know who you sorta look like? Audrey Hepburn."

I burst into laughter, dropping my cigarette on my grey sweatpants. "Oh Lord, don't lie to me."

"I'm serious!" Debbie replied, backing out of the driveway. "You could be in My Fair Lady."

I picked up the cig before it could burn a hole in my pants. "Thanks." I muttered, still stifling chuckles. "That's sweet."

"Marshall hardly brings home pretty girls," Debbie grunted. "Kim was pretty, but some of the ladies before that..." she shook her head. "Sometimes, I swear he just doesn't know his worth."

"What's Marshall like?" I whispered.

"Marsh? Oh, he's a sweet boy! He used to be so shy, but he's grown into a fine young man." Debbie's lips slipped into a frown. "Sometimes, I don't think he understands what he means to me..."

I tried to picture Marshall being shy, but the thought couldn't come.

Debbie continued, "Marsh had a troubled childhood--his dad was a scumbag, and me and him never...well we never saw eye to eye on a lot of subjects." She twisted her cigarette around in between her fingers. "Sometimes, I wonder if he really loves me..."

I recalled what Marshall told me last night. "I hate my mom, too.".

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I'm sure he does," I said, but my voice was meek.

Debbie sighed and ashed out her window. "What happened to your shirt?"

I looked down at my white t-shirt; it was stained with blood from when I got jumped. "I got into an altercation," I growled, my hands curling into fist at the thought. If I saw any of them now...

Debbie shook her head. "Don't fight; pretty girls shouldn't need to fight. It's trashy."

"I wish that's how the world worked..."

Debbie dropped me off at the little red house I was now destined to live in. I exited the car and wobbly walked to the front door.

I pushed it open and saw Claire was in the kitchen with a beer in her hand. When she saw me, she dropped her drink. "Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead."

I sneered at her. "Nice to see you, too."

Claire rushed over to me. "What happened to you? Are you drunk?"

"I got in a chick fight," I grunted. "It was nothing. And so what if I am? Are you drunk?"

Claire's face lit up to a deep red. "You were sent here to stop drinking," she reminded me bitterly.

"Yeah, well, I deserved something after last night."

She scanned me again. "Why didn't you come home last night?"

"I got lost."

"Where did you stay for the night..?"

I walked passed her and grabbed a Blue Moon from the fridge. I twisted the cap open and took a swig. "With Debbie. From poker."

Claire's eyes widen. "You met Debbie Mathers?"

"And her son. Marshall?"

Claire groaned. "Don't get caught up with that kid--he's a damn loser."

"Aye you don't even know him." I snapped.

"Ha!" Claire exclaimed. "I've known him for years! A stupid fucker still in the ninth grade. Thinks he's talented enough to make it as a rapper."

I slammed my beer down on the counter top. "School isn't for everyone. And you think having dreams makes you a loser?"

"I know that you're young and you see a cute boy acting badass, but I can assure you that boy won't amount to anything. I've seen them all come and go. And stop drinking!" She snatched the beer away from me. "You seem pretty happy at the moment already; with your slurred words and-"

"Oh Lord," I moaned, sulking to my room. "I'm taking a nap. Goodnight."

"Better wake up early!" Claire called. "You have school in the morning."