story, (untitled so far) Options

[expoised]

(started this in 7th grade and i just found it yesterday... about 3 years later. heh. just wondering if its worthy to bring back. i actually found it pretty interesting)

-prologue-
They called Raniekan The Ghetto, thought it really wasn’t what people typically thought of when they thought of ghetto. The Ghetto was basically a place where people just stood around, pretending to be cool. It was like the low-class part of the city. There were barbed wire fences surrounding the broken-down, grungy buildings. Graffiti was sprayed all over the decayed walls, signatures of who have come and gone.
Normally, the people who hung around The Ghetto didn’t live there. The people who actually lived there could be found in the streets of 9th to 11th avenue in the neighboring town Milwauken, where all the business was going on. Of course, that part of town was too hectic for the people who lived there so the people who actually lived in Milwauken went to Manhatten. The system was not meant to be understood, it’s just …was. Actually, all the people who even lived in or near Ranieken were somewhat screwed up.
My best friend, Nikki Landall’s, father got killed drunk driving, leaving her with a mom that didn’t work. Eventually, Mrs. Landall did find a job… as a stripper. This was when Nikki was five. Then, the police came and took her away. Now, she lives with adoptive parents in an apartment across from my aunt’s and mine.
My family was just as flipped. I was born out of wedlock to a father who mysteriously disappeared and a mother who was an alcoholic and a crystal meth addict. Mom was in rehab for 5 years. She was let out two years ago and now she’s a waitress and exotic dancer at some club on 20th street. She never broke her bad habits and has a system of chain smoking and chain boyfriends. She was declared unfit to take care of me, thank God, so I’m now living with my aunt.
My aunt’s pretty cool. She’s a lawyer and tries to remember me. But, I guess it’s easy to forget me. She gives me an allowance, food, and shelter, the three things that keep me going. At least she doesn’t put me behind useless things like alcohol and sex. I guess the only thing I’m put after is work.
What I’m like? I hate to confess, but I am one of them who are found in the most disrespectable parts in town. I think you already have an idea where that might be. Nikki and I basically hang out almost everywhere. Well, everywhere except where all the rich folks live. The rich people tramp around everywhere in their expensive ripped up clothes and their million dollar faces. I guess in places like New Jersey, the rich people were real, but in the streets of Raniekan, you really have to get down with it. Money didn’t buy you a freeway out of life here. People like Tori Richards, who walked around with their noses up in the air, only like to hang out in their own neighborhood. Then, when one of us show up in their fancy neighborhoods, which wasn’t that often, they stayed in their houses.
It wasn’t like we had no future and no direction in life. I had a job at an ice cream parlor that opened up a while ago. It was not bad pay. There were a lot of nice folks who left good tip, since the ice cream there’s not half bad. I guess people like me also hung out in what could be called a mall… if a large buildings with graffitied walls and a total of 4 respectable stores could be called a “mall”. That’s why the rich people always went down to Manhattan or even to the “nice malls” of New Jersey to shop.
Early on, I swore to myself that I would never end up like my mother. But, who was my father? He was never there, as far as I knew. Yet, I still took his last name. I guess I’ve been “untold of” for the past 15 years of my life… counting the year I was just born. I don’t know how that happened, but oh well. Tough. I’ve seen his picture, though. He actually seemed like someone of class. I couldn’t picture how he ever met my mom. She was like…a street thug compared to a member of the parliament in England, or wherever. But, I guess he’ll always be someone in the back of my head, like a mystery. Not to be melodramatic or anything.