“What are you wearing?”
“What do you mean?” I question, adjusting the burgundy corduroy skirt, so it fits perfectly around my waist without bunching up the cream-colored long-sleeve I have tucked inside. I make sure the buttons in the center of my breasts and pelvic region are closed, and my black tights have no holes in them. My shoes are appropriately one and a half inches high. My make-up is natural, and my hair is flowing and soft.
“What's the problem?”
“It’s cold outside, and you’re wearing a skirt. Don’t you think you should bundle up some more?” he argues, looking back at my mother as she hides her amused smile behind a steaming cup of black coffee.
“No, I don’t. Plus, I’m wearing tights. They may not look it, but they’re very warm.”
His sigh is full of annoyance, but I brush it off. I look fabulous, and he’s just stressed about his first day at a new location.
With one last fluff of my onyx hair, I grab the keys to my mom’s twenty-twenty Rogue and my champagne leather backpack off the floor. “Okay! I’m leaving now!”
“Wait!”
“Hold up!”
Their excited shouts bring a beaming grin across my face, but I fight the look, so they don’t know how much I adore their cheesiness.
“You have everything you need?” my dad asks, hands on his freshly pressed slack-covered hips.
“I do.”
“Wallet?”
“Yeah.”
“Keys?”
“Yep.”
“Phone.”
“Always.” I laugh, taking a step forward to wrap my arms around him. “Good luck today, Daddy. You’re going to kill it.”
It’s a cheesy joke between the two of us.The homicide detective is going to kill it.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?” my mom asks, wringing her fingers until the color bleeds from them.
With a hug around her skinny frame, I shake my head. “No, Mom. I’m good. You need to be here in case the movers show up.”
I kiss them each on the cheek before waving one last time and heading out the front door.
Wind breezes past my face, blowing the nearby salty sea air through my waves. I sigh in peace. At least the ocean is close, somewhere to run away when my mind becomes too clouded. When I’m struggling with a piece, the block in my head becomes too much, but I can always count on the cold waters and gritty sand to realign me.
Slapping one of the beams on the veranda, I hop down the couple dozen steps, mindful not to trip and roll my ankle in these boots.
I click the fob until the car unlocks, rushing to get the door open in case Dad is watching me from the window. I don’t want him to see the chills running down my spine. He’ll make me put on a sweater, or worse, change, and there’s no way I’m doing that.
Hopping inside, the overwhelming scent of artificial strawberries clogs my nose. I gag on its cloying aroma, but wait until I’m out of sight of the house before cracking open the window.
Drive You Insaneby Daniel Di Angelo blasts through the speakers, boosting my energy on my way to a brand-new school. The directions on my phone say I’m about fifteen minutes away, so I lean back and enjoy the ride through the oak trees.
At almost seven-thirty a.m. in my old town, the streets were bustling with people rushing to work. Traffic was awful, and I was almost always late to school. I expected Riverton to be the same, so I’m shocked to find no other car around at this time.
While I gaze at the vacant, two-lane road, texts are coming through on my phone, disrupting the navigation. Dana and Jenna are bombarding the group chat, wishing me luck on my first day while also threatening me if I find new best friends. Below is a message from the boy I was really beginning to like, Darren.
I’ll miss seeing your face in Chemistry today.
