Unstable

By D.D. Summers

The true story of a young teenage girl named Nina. When her family is struck with tragedy they fall down like Dominos and Nina is left with no one to help her up. It takes her years to finally get someone to notice that she's scarred but is it too late to help this girl out of the darkness or can an unlikely hero named Roy save her from herself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.D. Summers
• Release date: May 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987675811

D.D. Summers

I started to write at the age of fourteen. My influences to become a writer were my grade nine English teacher and Stephen King. I love books by John Steinbeck, Dean Koontz, Harper Lee, Gary Paulsen and any other author that can put me right in their story. I love to write and read. I hope to someday be known for my writing, hopefully in a positive way.

Book preview

Unstable

By D.D. Summers

Published by D.D. Summers at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 D.D. Summers

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Bon Jovi & Booze

Our new house was shaped like a barn. The cream colored siding was dirty and broke in several spots. The house sat at the end of four lots that had never been divided. Huge pines surrounded the middle of the property and broke apart to a nice clear lot that dad had made into his garden. He lived for the garden. It was the first place he went when he got home from work. He would walk through the shadows of the pines and into his beautiful vegetable garden. He would check the corn and then grab a carrot out of the earth, wipe the dirt off with his hand and eat it. If the carrots weren’t ready yet he would split a pea pod and eat the raw peas inside. Dad had been a part of a generation that took pride in what they grew and his peas and carrots were the only thing he felt successful in. We might be dirt poor but as long as there were vegetables in the garden, we would eat.

The last lot was empty except for a huge forty foot pine. This tree belonged to Nick and me. Nick would climb to the top of the tree and just sit up there for hours enjoying the view. Sometimes he would watch the sun go down in a blaze of colors. Saskatchewan was famous for its skies and my older brother would hold the images in his memory and try to recapture them on his sketch pads. I would often ask him to draw pictures of cartoon characters but Nick would only draw Smurfs. I guess he liked the fact that most of the Smurfs were identical and didn’t have to worry about fitting in.

I lived under the trees humongous branches. When I was under there, I was invisible. It was my tree house. Our father was always out on a trip and didn’t have the time to build me a real one so I used the underneath of that tree as my own hiding place. I had stolen some of my mom’s older plates and cups and placed them on the bottom branches, in my own little kitchen. I had arranged my dolls and each had their own special place. Nick could have the top of the tree. My dolls and I were happy in the needles and sap. I still remember looking up at Nick from the bottom. I was amazed at his lack of fear. I couldn’t climb more than two branches before fear would make me climb back down. I loved the place but I knew that my siblings would happily trade it for the home we left behind in Winnipeg.

I spent most of my time observing my siblings and secretly wishing that I wasn’t years younger than them, so I could fit in. My sister Sylvia liked to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the music. It often reminded me of a woman rocking a baby to sleep. She kept one hand behind her back as she rocked to Bon Jovi. Sylvia wasn’t the norm when it came to Bon Jovi fans.

Most of them were head over heels for lead singer, John. She was in love with Richie Sambora and longed to be his girlfriend. She was only fifteen but would happily run away with Richie if he came knocking on our door.

It was nineteen, eighty nine but my siblings were stuck in the decade of decadence. Sylvia would listen to the songs and remember hanging out in her old room in Winnipeg. Our old house was where life had been good for my siblings. They all had lifelong friends in Winnipeg. Saskatchewan sucked, all the older kids agreed on this.

Nick was hit hardest out of the group. He was the oldest and hadn’t adjusted at all after the move. He had even gone back to Winnipeg. Our father had helped him get a job and he had done well, but then things changed. Nick’s friends from high school had all moved on. They had jobs of their own, and Nick was left with just his work. He made good money and dad was impressed until Nick spent all the money on what dad called, silly shit. A drum set, a leather coat, boots and wigs. Nick was infatuated with Motley Crue. He loved the idea of blond hair rather than his long, greasy, jet black hair. He liked the idea of wearing makeup to hide his acne. All of the members of Motley Crue wore make up so why couldn’t he?

He dreamed of starting his own band. He didn’t know how to play the drums but loved the idea of being a rock star. He bought other expensive things but ended up giving a lot of them away to his buddies. Even the drum set went to an old friend, but Nick kept the sticks. You weren’t a drummer without your sticks. Nick ended up coming back to Saskatchewan. He was going to be twenty soon, and life seemed to be hitting him hard.

All the teenagers had been put in the basement like a pack of rats. Dad thought it was convenient, they could come and go as they pleased. They couldn’t get on his nerves if he couldn’t see what they were doing. I knew that we weren’t rich but it never donned on me that my parents might have bigger worries than what their kids were up to. Lou understood why Sylvia liked to sit in her room and drink. Lou was only a year older than Sylvia and they had a mutual respect for each other. Lou knew that the little city of Gavril would never be like Winnipeg. They had met new kids but it wasn’t the same. There was no history here. Lou was a bus boy for a Chinese restaurant and Sylvia took orders over the phone.

They always bought booze on the weekends. I was like all nosy little kids; I wanted to know what they were doing in the basement. I knew that they wouldn’t let me in the room until they had finished a couple of bottles. I approached the bedroom door hesitantly. The basement had only one bedroom and Sylvia had been granted it because a girl needed privacy. The boys slept on mattresses that were in the middle of the large open basement.

They had no real privacy and often were in the bathroom getting changed. Sylvia’s room was where they hung out and it was where I wanted to be. I knocked hard, so they would hear it over the music. Lou answered the door and glared at me. His blond hair had gone completely brown within the last year. His eyes had become a dark green and I was amazed that he was part Indian.

What do you want maggot? Lou asked in disdain.

Can I hang out? I asked.

Why don’t you go watch TV or play with some dolls? Go watch Alf, he said with a grin.

You know they canceled that show and besides dad’s watching hockey.

Eww, hockey. Lou took a chug of beer.

Is it mom? asked Sylvia.

Would I call mom a maggot? It’s Nina. She wants to hang out with us. I could hear Sylvia sighing inside her room. I had come to kill their fun.

Let her in, but tell her that if she gets on my nerves she has to vacate.

I wanted to ask what vacate meant but kept it to myself. The room was filled with thick smoke. They all smoked Players cigarettes and tended to smoke even more once the beers had started going down. If Lou had control of the stereo, it was Whitesnake or Guns N Roses blasting from the speakers. I knew the words to most of the songs and found it interesting that they chose to listen to the same music that they had been listening to for years.

Sylvia dropped her smoke into an empty bottle, and it fizzled out on the bottom. The room smelled like beer. A smell that did not bother me then but now makes my stomach flip like

I’m on a rollercoaster. I have never been able to drink more than one beer. I owe them for that. Sylvia was trying to save her money for a car but would often splurge on herself. Her room had a TV and a new stereo but it was almost bare of furniture. She had an old vanity with a huge mirror for its backing. I would often sit in her room and watch as she curled her long, brown hair and applied make up to her petite face. I envied her. She seemed so girly compared to me. A small table by her bed held the giant stereo that was blasted on the weekend. She would often sleep with a pair of headphones clamped on her head so she wouldn’t be woken up by our parents arguing.

Her mattress was on the cement floor, like most of us, she didn’t have the thrill of a bed. Most of the beds had been thrown away because they wouldn’t fit in the moving truck. She had a couple of posters of her favorite band on her wall and her video collection consisted of Cindy Crawford’s workout video and three Bon Jovi tour videos. I sometimes got to work out with Cindy and her in the basement. I memorized the video, I would often dream of waking up looking just like Cindy instead of a plump, native kid.

I was so happy when they let me in the room on Saturdays. I felt so cool as I sat down there. I would only last for about five songs before I realized that it was getting boring. Lou would get loud when he drank and he would tell stories about his old friends Earl and Julius. I had heard most of these stories as had Sylvia but neither of us brought it to Lou’s attention. Nick would sometimes join in with his own stories but most of the time he just sat at the back of Sylvia’s bed sipping his beer. It was as Sylvia rocked back and forth to Bon Jovi and closed her eyes that I realized that they didn’t drink for fun.

They drank, to try and forget and remember all at the same time. They wanted to forget that our father had moved us to a province where there was never much of anything going on. They wanted to remember what it had been like to be with friends, laughing your ass off at nothing. When they started to look sad, I would get up and make some excuse to leave the room. I always wanted out because I didn’t like to see them so sad. I couldn’t understand it, I thought booze was supposed to make you giggle and have fun, but my siblings looked like they were trying to self-destruct through booze. It was hard to watch. I got up that night with my ass asleep from the cement floor. I tried to rub the feeling back into it.

You don’t want a drink? teased Lou holding out his bottle. His eyes were glossy and red. I reached for the bottle and Lou gave it to me.

LOU! DON’T! SHE’LL RAT YOU OUT! Sylvia shouted. Nick moved forward and reached for

Lou’s beer but Lou moved it out of his grasp.

No, she won’t, said Lou as he handed me the bottle. I put the bottle by my mouth and caught the smell of the beer. I handed it back to him. What’s wrong? Chicken?

No, it smells like pee, I answered. Sylvia and Nick started to laugh hysterically in the corner. Lou took back his bottle and took a quick drink.

You don’t know what’s good, sis.

See you later, I said.

Yeah, they all said together. None of us knew it, but within a month our entire lives would be turned upside down and shaken hard. The ones left standing would have something to drink about, the others would have to try and wrap their heads around how crazy life could be. Our