Saturday, January 8, 2011

SnappleApple450 Week 33: Where Do You Go When Nobody Wants You (Part 1)

SnappleApple 450

Picture 1

Picture 2

SnappleApple 450's Choice: Picture 2

Where Do You Go When Nobody Wants you? (Part 1)

Who do you go when nobody wants you? Where do you go when nobody cares what happens to you? Oh sure, people say they love you, but they all are in it for a reason. I think for me, Bianca Stratford, it’s for money. Being a wealthy heiress has its perks, but don’t knock it til you tried it. People say money makes the world go round. I say it makes the world blind. So what do you do when when your blind? You grope in the dark for the answer.

“Remind me why I have to go to this place again?” Bianca asked, popping her gum with a manicured nail.

Mrs. Stratford kept driving, eyes on the road ahead. “Because it’s going to keep you out of trouble for summer break. It’ll teach you a lesson.”

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Lesson learned. Don’t get caught.”

Her mother’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I hope a summer spent here will teach you the good moral values we seem to have not taught you.”

“You of all people want to talk about ‘good moral values’?” Her fingers made air-quotations to emphasize her sarcasm.

Mrs. Stratford turned to glare at her daughter. “That’s entirely different, Bianca, and I refuse to have this conversation with you.”

“You mean the conversation about you and my ex-boyfriend?” Bianca’s voice raised an octave in heated anger.

She slowed the car down at the airport entrance. “I’ll see you in six weeks and I expect a drastic change in your behavior.”

Bianca got out and glared at her mom. “Fuck you.” She slammed the car door before her mom could reply. Bianca dragged all 16 of her bags out of the car just as her mom drove off.

An airport worker came out with a cart to load the bags onto. “What flight are you on?”

“Flight 666,” she mumbled, grabbing her purse. The man didn’t get it. She rolled her eyes. “Whatever flight is going to Alaska?”

He nodded, pushing her bags through the door. “You’re not excited about a vacation in Alaska? I heard it’s great this time of year. What part are you going to?”

“The cold part,” she snapped. The man learned to shut up.

Once Bianca was on the flight in her seat, she sighed. She only had who knew how many hours before she reached Alaska and she dreaded every one of them, every inch that brought her closer. Bianca couldn’t even remember how she got in this mess, being shipped off. It wasn’t fair. All she did was skip school to go to this party with her friends. She didn’t expect for the cops to come and frisk her, finding loads of weed, not to mention she was stoned and under-aged. Her dad was furious—as always—and her mom expected it.

Bianca came from a rich, well-known family in upstate New York; they had an image to uphold and nobody knew just how imperfect their life was. Now she was heading to some unknown part of Alaska, scenic nowhere. She actually had to Google the place, not that she remembered the name anyway. Apparently her dad did business up there and one of his workers offered to take her and “teach her”, whatever the hell that meant.

She was almost legal age and in seven weeks it would be her birthday. She was leaving New York and moving to California when she turned 18; leaving all the drama of the Stratford family behind. She couldn’t say anything, god knows she couldn’t. Bianca was the party-hard daughter always in the Tabloids. To say she wasn’t spoiled would be a huge lie and she loved it. She hated leaving her baby blue convertible back home, but she had no use for it where it was snowing. She was going to freeze her ass off.

The plane landed in the dark runway, pitch black outside. She had changed plans three times, downgrading each time to a smaller plane. Why she couldn’t just take the family jet was beyond her. Probably because they knew she’d take it and not go to Alaska.

“Last stop, Miss Stratford.”

She unhooked her seatbelt and unsteadily clambered off the plane. “Jesus Christ, it’s cold!” She yelled.

The man chuckled, taking his coat off. “You knew you were coming this way, why not bring a jacket?” She grabbed his big coat and bundled her arms in it. “Come on, your ride is waiting.”
His jacket smelled of smoked fish; disgusting. A small red truck was idling off the runway a bit.
“I’ll go get your bags and load them up.” The man walked back to the plane as she leaned against the truck door.

“You’re Bianca Stratford, aren’t you? Of course you are. You look like it.”

She jumped from the truck, cursing under her breath. A boy a couple years younger than herself was hanging out the window.

He shoved a hand out. “I’m Corky Bowers, nice to meet you.”

Bianca pulled the coat tighter and ignored him. Back in New York, this kid was similar to the freshmen that would transfer from other cities, or even worse the small towns. Only this time, she was the new kid in a small town. Was there even a town nearby?

“You’ll be—“

“How do I ‘look’ like Bianca Stratford?” She interrupted him.

“You look like a rich, stuck up snob,” the older man came around with an armful of perfectly monogrammed luggage.

“Bite me,” she crossed her arms. “And what kind of name is Corky anyway?”

The kid laughed. “It’s my kind of name!”

She gave a slight nod to show that she heard him but didn’t have a good response.

“So how old are you?”


“I’m thirteen.”


“My older brother is closer to your age.”

“Hmm sixteen?” She was sarcastic and didn’t care what he was saying.

“Close. He’s 18, just a year older than you.”

Bianca’s interest peaked slightly. “What’s his name?”

“Chris Bowers and he’s not happy about you coming at all.”

Bianca glared. “That makes two of us.”

“Alright we’re all loaded,” the man dusted his hands off and opened the truck door. “Get in.” He waved her in.

She slid in next to Corky, who was grinning and bouncing in his seat.

“We’ll be to your new home in no time, Miss Stratford.” He let the brake out and drove off down a stretch of blackness.